Where Did the Bible Come From? Part I

           In the fall I asked some friends and family what kinds of questions they had about the Bible, and one of the topics that came up the most frequently had to do with the composition, compilation, and canonization of the Bible (Yay, alliteration! I think I'll refer to these as the Three Cs). In short, people want to know how the Bible came to be. Most folks are well aware that it didn't just drop into the lap of some ancient religious leaders by the Holy Spirit. But a lot of people still aren't really sure about the Bible's actual origins.

            As I have insisted in my earliest posts, the Bible is not really a book, but more like a library of books. It is a whole corpus of literature composed over a period of a thousand plus years or so, and its content concerns events that range over two thousand years of history (delving into some undatable, legendary periods as well). The books of Bible are compiled somewhat according to the order of the over-arching narrative – where there is a narrative to follow – but certainly not according to when they were written. Some of the older books of the Hebrew Scriptures predate some of the books of the Torah (those first 5 books). Matthew's Gospel precedes Mark's in the New Testament, but Mark was almost certainly written first – not to mention the letters of Paul before any of the Gospels. And Romans is the first letter to appear among Paul's epistles, but it was likely one of his later letters. Basically, the ordering of the books in the Bible has little to do with the date of their composition.

            The who and when of biblical authorship is a rather complex issue. Regarding the Old Testament alone, most of the books were not composed by single authors but were more so the product of collaboration "– collaboration of a special kind because the various authors were widely separated in space and time, had no knowledge of one another, and certainly had no conception of the form that their work would finally take."[1] The Hebrew Scriptures had a slow development that included various authors, sources (both oral and written), editors, and compilers. This is especially true for the Torah, which brings me to source analysis and the "Documentary Hypothesis." (Exciting, right?) As technical as these sound, they're really just fancy terms for talking about how the Torah is a compilation of several sources with varying origins and points of view.

            Personally, I am a fan of the concept of the Documentary Hypothesis, and I have no problem believing that the Scriptures were developed from various sources. As with many things in academic disciplines however, it's a theory, and scholars continue to debate and dispute the dating and nature of the proposed sources. However, as Michael Coogan concedes, "the data must be explained, and almost all scholars agree with the general principle that underlying the present text of the first five books of the Bible are distinct sources."[2]

             One way we can think about the use of various sources in the formation of the Torah is to imagine writing a book on your family's ancestry. You might have heard family stories from your grandma Dorothy, but then you also have a diary written by your great-aunt Bertha. Maybe you find a few legal documents that have to do with your great-grandfather Robert on ancestry.com, so you decide to add those to the mix as well. And then there are always those family legends – the ones that have been passed down from generation to generation with a few variations here and there. You're not sure if they actually happened in the same way that they've been related, but they reflect an important part of your family's character and identity, so you put them in too. Some of the materials may seem to contradict each other. Perhaps Dorothy tells a story that disagrees with Bertha's diary, but you choose to put it all together anyway and try to make a somewhat homogenized story of your family.

            All analogies fail at some point, of course, but I hope this kind helps to put in perspective what I mean by the use of sources in the Torah's composition. Just as the family stories were passed down orally before writing this book from the example, the oral traditions which influenced the biblical texts also had a long-standing history before they were committed to writing. But just like Bertha's diary or Robert's legal documents in the analogy, it wasn't only oral traditions that were used as sources in the development of the Torah. Some written material was produced as early as the monarchy, which began around the 10^th century BCE (the 900s).These sources, both oral and written, would eventually would lead to the formulation of parts of the Torah.

            With some confidence, scholars can point to the reign of Josiah of Judah (640-609 BCE) as a datable period for an early edition of what would become the book of Deuteronomy. At that time, a so-called "Book of the Law" was "found" in the Temple (see 2 Kings 22:1- 23:30). Later, with the experience of the Babylonian exile and the threat of their religious faith disappearing altogether, there was an unprecedented need "to fix [their] traditions permanently as canonical documents."[3] So by about the 4^th century, a good while after the exile, the material that made up the Torah was collected, compiled, and redacted to form more or less what we know as the Torah today.

            So, okay, by that time we pretty much have the Torah, and it evidently was an authoritative text for its readers (i.e. canonical), since the post-exilic Judahites needed to preserve and pass on their religious faith. But what were those sources that made up the Torah? Here is just a bird's-eye view of the four classical sources and some of their characteristics.

J (Jahwist): This source, pronounced YAH-wist (because them Germans have the market on biblical scholarship, and they pronounce Js like Ys, as in Jägermeister) is so named because when referring to God this source uses the Divine Name, YHWH. English Bibles typically never use the Divine Name, and rightly so out of respect. Instead, whenever the Divine Name appears it reads the LORD, and in fact, whenever Jewish people read from the Scriptures and encounter the Divine Name in Hebrew they instead say Adonai, which more or less means "Lord." J is probably the earliest of the traditions, and it likely developed in the southern Kingdom (Judah). God is depicted as more humanlike and speaks more directly to human beings rather than through messengers.

E (Elohist): This source is so named because it uses the Hebrew word elohim to refer to God – at least up to the revelation of the Divine Name in Exodus 3. Elohim is usually simply translated as "God" in English Bibles. In E, God is more distant and communicates through dreams and messengers (angels). Geographically it has a more northern perspective. The term "prophet" is favored in this source, for even Abraham is called a prophet. Also, the mountain known as "Sinai" in J is here called "Horeb" (as well as in the D source, but I'm not there yet). Since E is very fragmented and intertwined closely into the J source, the two are sometimes indistinguishable.

P (Priestly): The Priestly source gets its name because it deals so much with religious matters and instructions: rituals, sacrifices, Sabbaths, etc. It was likely the last of the four sources to develop – probably during 6^th century, given the need to preserve the traditions in the midst of the turmoil that occurred in that period (destruction of the Temple, exile, return and reconstruction; let's face it, the 500s were a trying and pivotal century). Almost all of Leviticus is from the P source, but P is interlaced in all of the books of the Torah. God is more remote in P than any other source. The light-filled cloud described in Exodus is an example of P's distant and transcendent depiction of God's glory.

            If you're wondering how all of these sources got pulled together, you can thank the P source for at least being the final editors of the source materials, which is why their contributions  are found in all five books. In fact, chapter 1 of Genesis and the last chapter of Deuteronomy are from P, so it basically bookends the  whole Torah. It may have been a later source, but the Johnny-come-latelies got the final say.

   

D (Deuteronomic): You can thank the Deuteronomists for a good chunk of the Hebrew Scriptures. A type of religious/intellectual movement which scholars refer to as the Deuteronomic School developed as early as the 8^th century in the northern Kingdom (Israel). That school later moved to Judah after the fall of Israel to the Assyrians. Surprise, surprise, the Deuteronomic source was responsible for most of the book of Deuteronomy (from which the D source gets its name). But the Deuteronomists were also the authors of Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings. These books make up what is known as the Deuteronomic History. They also edited and possibly collected material from a number of the earlier prophetic books, most particularly Jeremiah, who himself may have been part of the Deuteronomic School. Obviously this school of thought didn't have much to do with what we mean by "schools" today, but if it did and had I lived back then, I would have had a closet full of their T-shirts and gone to all their games with a big foam finger. I am that much of a fan of their accomplishments. Go Deuteronomists!

            This is merely a rough sketch of the four main hypothetical sources originally proposed by Julius Wellhausen (1844-1918).There were indeed other source traditions in existence. For example, chapters 17-26 of Leviticus probably derive from a separate source known as the "Holiness Code." And the book of Numbers is a patchwork of not just J, E, and P, but of other folklore, laws, lists and accounts that were passed down.[4] Some of the books of the Old Testament even refer to non-biblical textual sources (e.g. the Book of Jasher) which have since been lost to us.

            Lastly, we cannot pretend that the literature and oral traditions from the surrounding cultures and nations had no effect on biblical writings. The Israelites settled among Canaanites and were under Egyptian, Assyrian, Babylonian, Persian, and Greek domination at different periods of their history. Naturally, some of the literature and lore of their neighbors and captors would have rubbed off on them. It's no surprise, for example, that multiple flood stories occur in ancient Near Eastern literature. But comparing biblical and other ancient Near Eastern texts is a topic for another day. The point is that the formation of biblical literature was a rather organic process and consisted of much more than just a handful of individual authors. Even the Documentary Hypothesis can be critiqued for oversimplifying what was certainly a complicated development.

     

            But why does any of this matter? What sort of effect will it have on our biblical reading? Why am I going into a whole rant about source analysis? One reason is simply because I find that people are hungry to know where the Bible comes from. How did this anthology of books come about that has had so much influence over history and our lives today. The best way I could think of to approach that question was to write a bit about the ever-enthralling Documentary Hypothesis. The other reason, however, is because I am edified and mystified by the wondrous way in which God communicates God's self. As I said in my previous post, the Truth has a way of making itself know to us. The fact that multiple sources and traditions – some of which differ greatly in perspective from one another – can all be brought together to proclaim the word of God says something about God's infinite greatness and inclusivity. We find that God is more "both/and" than "either/or." Some lament the apparent contradictions in Scripture. I prefer to see them as an example of the fine tension in which all things are held, tempering extremism and giving us the freedom to stretch our arms out wider to embrace even more of the mystery of our faith.

            For this week, I recommend reading chapters 1 & 2 of Genesis. They're a perfect example of two separate sources at work. If you compare these creation myths, you'll find distinctive and differing characteristics between them. Gen 1-2:3 is from the P source, and in it there is more of a sense of bringing order out of chaos. It orders creation with the perfect number, seven, and concludes with Sabbath rest. God is more distant in chapter one; God speaks, and creation is made. On the other hand, Gen 2:4-24 is from the J source. God is more humanlike, forming a man out of the earth like a potter, planting the garden like a gardener, building up a woman from the man's rib. The narrative is much more story-like with explanatory asides and a developing plot which will unfold in the following chapters. You don't have to try to pick out all the differences in the two accounts, but I would encourage you to see how each one is unique but at the same time speaks a truth about God, humanity, stewardship, the goodness of creation and the preeminence of relationship.

            Since this post is only Part One of a series of entries on the Bible's origins, I hope to go over other areas of the Three Cs in subsequent posts. Today's has only covered a tiny speck of what is certainly a topic best explored in a lecture series with an actual professor. Nevertheless, I welcome questions and comments via e-mail, Facebook, or this blog page. And now you can even follow the Codega on Twitter (@biblecodega). Come back next week for more about the origins of the Bible, and until then...

Peace and all good!

---

[1] John B. Gabel and Charles B. Wheeler, The Bible as Literature: An Introduction, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), 9.

[2] Michael D. Coogan, The Old Testament: A Historical and Literary Introduction to the Hebrew Scriptures, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 28.

[3] Ibid., 76.

[4] Ibid., 145 & 153.

Magi or Manger?: The Infancy Narratives of Jesus

           First of all, merry Christmas! I've posted this blog entry on Christmas day, but I'm guessing you're probably reading it sometime after the 25^th. I don't blame you. Who has time to read a blog on Christmas. Nevertheless, chances are it is still Christmas according the liturgical calendar of the Catholic Church. The Christmas season has only just begun today, and it continues up to the celebration to the Baptism of our Lord (January 10^th this year). So keep drinking that eggnog, and I repeat, merry Christmas!

            Given this current season, it's no surprise that today's post is going to be about the infancy narratives of Jesus. To begin, if you have a nativity set displayed in your home at this time, take a close look at it, or – if you don't want to leave your chair (and trust me, I know the feeling) – simply recall what it looks like in your mind. What do you see? A stable. Shepherds. An ox and/or donkey. Maybe some sheep. A man and a woman looking over an infant in a crib full of hay. Three men in fancy robes with treasures in their hands. Perhaps there is a star or angel on top.

            It's a beautiful image, and it's just about as recognizable in or outside of Christian culture as the cross is. Most of us know the story of Jesus' birth... or at least we think we do. We've heard it proclaimed a Mass or other religious services. We sing the Christmas carols that recount the story. We've seen A Charlie Brown Christmas and have heard Linus recite Luke 2:8-14. We know it from other movies or works of art. We have nativity sets in our homes or at least have seen them displayed elsewhere. In short, we have a pretty good sense of the story of Jesus' birth from pop culture. But when was the last time you actually read it straight from the Scriptures? Did you know that there are, in fact, two distinct infancy narratives in the Gospels, which can be found in Matthew 1:18-2:23 and in Luke 1-2. (I know, right? One baby story just isn't good enough for Jesus.) Only these two Gospels have any account of Jesus' infancy or childhood, and, not surprisingly, – especially given the differences we have already seen in Matthew and Luke's  genealogies – these two narratives agree on very few points.

            Perhaps you are already familiar with the differences, but to those for whom this is news, do not be afraid (did you see what I did there?). Like the genealogies, the infancy narratives were written from the perspective of faith, not with historical facts in mind. These passages in Scripture are a perfect introduction to a theme I hope to expound upon more as this blog continues in the future, and that is the difference between Truth (with a capital "T") and fact. When it comes to the infancy narratives – especially since there are two accounts which hardly agree on anything – there is very little that biblical scholars can point to with certainty as being historical. But this shouldn't concern us. As Daniel Harrington, a Catholic Jesuit priest, says in his commentary on Matthew, "The more important issue is determining what these stories meant to [the evangelist] and his community."[1] To add to that I would also say what the Scriptures are saying to us by extension of what it meant to the Gospel writers and their communities. Therein lies part of what I mean by Truth, for you see, the Scriptures are less concerned with what can be proven by the senses, which is typically how modern thinkers understand "truth." Instead, they are all about revealing who God is, what God's relationship to humanity is and vise versa, and what our relationships should be like with each other as fellow members of the human race. So as we take a look at the infancy narratives, ask yourself: What is this saying about God's relationship to humanity? What is this saying about who God, revealed in the person of Jesus, truly is? This will help us come to know better the Truth that God is communicating to us in these sacred texts.

            Like I said, the infancy narratives of Matthew and Luke agree on very little. The two main things that they do agree upon are that Jesus was born of a virgin named Mary who was betrothed to Joseph and that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, the city of David. That's about it. All the stuff about shepherds and a manger belongs to one Gospel, and all the stuff about magi and fleeing to Egypt belongs to another. So if you've taken a look at your nativity set and have found both shepherds and wise men on display, you're combining two distinct stories. Don't worry; I'm not criticizing you if you do have it that way. I tend to put the wise men out a little later, but eventually they make their way right up next to the shepherd figurines. It's easy for us, though, to confuse the two narratives and try to mesh them together. Pop culture has been doing this for centuries. We like to stack up all the Gospels together like a quadruple-decker club sandwich because it's easier that way. However, although it may look tasty, somethings are going to fall out of a sandwich that big, and we'll fail to appreciate the subtle and unique deliciousness that each Gospel has to offer. As a Bible nerd, I try to keep the narratives separate, so for our purposes today let us take a look at some of the major elements in each of the distinct, individual narratives.

Matthew's infancy narrative.

            Obviously there is a lot that can be said about any part of Scripture, so this is by no means an exhaustive look at Mt 1:18-2:23. In fact, I'm going to try to keep it brief because it's Christmas, and you and I both have things to do. Am I right?

           

            One of the things you may notice in reading this passage is the uncanny similarity to another birth narrative in the Old Testament. A wicked king wants to destroy all the infant boys in the land, and one is rescued. Sound familiar? Yes, Matthew is paralleling Jesus' infancy to that of Moses'! In fact, this is not the only place in Matthew that he draws this connection. One of the reasons that Matthew places Jesus on a mountain when he delivers the so-called "Sermon on the Mount" is because Moses received the Law from God on a mountain. Jesus, in Matthew's Gospel, is a Moses figure, the new law-giver, the one who leads his people out of slavery. If you recall from last week's post, Matthew's Gospel is written to a very Jewish Christian audience, so these Old Testament parallels would not only have been easily recognized, but would have had a lot of significance to them. You'll also notice that Matthew makes a lot of other connections to passages from the Hebrew Scriptures, constantly quoting them even when it doesn't seem that necessary.

            Joseph, who plays the central role in Matthew's narrative rather than Mary (even though he doesn't say a word), is also paralleled with an Old Testament figure. In the genealogy he is said to be the son of a man named Jacob. Why? Think of another man named Joseph in the Old Testament who was the son of a Jacob. It is that very Joseph we find in Genesis, who likewise had dreams and eventually went down to the land of Egypt where he and his family experienced solace for a time. 

Google Images

           The attitude toward Egypt in Jewish thinking was a bit ambivalent – at times a place a refuge, and at other times the place of slavery from which Israel must be freed. Not surprisingly, then, the Holy Family finds refuge in Egypt, but Jesus, the Moses figure, is also brought out of there and into the land of Israel. It's significant that the Holy Family is portrayed as refugees and immigrants in the narrative, both for the Gospel's original hearers and for us today. Protection of the "stranger" is common theme in both the Old and New Testament, and as we seek to understand the Truth in Scripture, such repeated motifs most assuredly have something to say to us about how we should strive to live together  as a human family.

           

            But what of those magi, those wise men? Where are they paralleled in the Hebrew Scriptures? It's a less familiar story, but in the book of Numbers a foreign prophet, Balaam, is called upon by his king to curse the Israelites. Instead, however, he utters a blessing for them. The star that Matthew refers to may even be traced to the Balaam's prophecy: "A star shall advance from Jacob, and a staff shall rise from Israel" (Num 24:17). Of course, another Old Testament reading associated with the magi comes from Isaiah 60, in which Israel is depicted as a light to the nations, and foreign kingdoms shall come and pay Israel homage – "Caravans of camels fill you, dromedaries from Midian and Ephah; All from Sheba shall come bearing gold and frankincense" (Is 60:6). Not surprisingly, the Church pairs this reading from Isaiah with the passage about the magi on the feast of the Epiphany. Listen for this if you plan on going to Mass on January 3^rd.

             

            It appears that Matthew had an agenda about the inclusion of the Gentiles into the Christian story of salvation. Recall, also, in Matthew's genealogy his inclusion of those foreign women. Since the evangelist strongly believed in the continuity of the Jewish faith with the Jesus event, he was flabbergasted that so many of the people of Israel did not accept Jesus as the Messiah. So at the end of his Gospel he turns his attention to the Gentiles: "Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations..." (Mt 28:19). The magi from the east, representing the Gentile population, contrast with Herod and his court. These foreigners from the east (probably Persia, modern day Iran) come to pay the newborn king of the Jews homage, while Herod seeks the child's life.

Luke's infancy narrative (see chapters 1-2 of Luke)

            Luke is a masterful storyteller, and his narrative of Jesus' birth is very near and dear to our hearts. The bulk of our nativity sets and memories from nativity movies derive from his version. In Luke, Mary plays the central role, being the one to whom the angel announces Jesus' birth. Women in general often have a prominent role in Luke's Gospel. Both Mary and Elizabeth are key figures in the first two chapters, and in Lk  2:36-38 it is not only Simeon but also a prophetess named Anna who praises the child. The inclusion of women in Luke's Gospel is not so much an expression of 1^st century feminism, but has to do more with Luke's theme of mercy to the poor and lowly. Unfortunately, women all throughout history and in most places around the world today have been among the most powerless. At the annunciation scene, Mary, as a young, unmarried and childless woman would have been one of the lowliest persons in society. She is not only the personification of God's poor, but she is also a voice that proclaims God's favor and love to the meek. When she visits her relative, Elizabeth, she announces in her resounding speech: "He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart. He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly. The hungry he has filled with good things; the rich he has sent away empty" (Lk 1:51-53).

           

            The theme of poverty and lowliness permeates the entirety of Luke's infancy narrative. Jesus' birth scene may seem cute and darling to our modern sensibilities – the stuff of children's Christmas pageants. (No criticism of nativity plays intended. They're a good learning tool for kids.) But the fact of the matter is that Luke's portrayal of the savior's birth is far from cute or glamorous. The son of God is born into the world in a state of utter poverty. There was no room at the inn. He was wrapped in strips of cloths (presumably that is what the arcane term "swaddling clothes" means). And he was laid in a manger, a feeding trough for animals. Pet peeve, by the way: a stable is not the same thing as a manger. Animals live in stables and eat from mangers. I get all bent out of shape whenever I hear people say that Jesus was born in a manger. Think about it; that would be a an awkward situation. Luke doesn't actually say under what kind of shelter, if any, Jesus was born. The word "stable" does not appear at all in Luke's infancy narrative. We might presume he was born in a stable, but for all we know it could have been al fresco. The point is, the setting and environment of Jesus' birth in Luke's Gospel is a poor one indeed. It would likely be the equivalent of being born in a subway station today.

           

            And the imagery of poverty continues, for the shepherds in particular were among the lowest classes in that society at the time. I'm not entirely sure what a 1^st century, Palestinian shepherd would have been like, but I'm certain he did not resemble a Precious Moments figurine. I'd imagine such shepherds would have been strong, unkempt men who could fend off attackers or wild beasts with brute force, and they probably reeked of sheep and manure (or insert another word that is alliterative to sheep). Yet Luke portrays these poor folk as being the first to receive the Good News.

            Both Joseph and Mary are portrayed as poor yet obedient and faithful Jewish people. They journey to Bethlehem for the census, and there they are depicted as strangers who could not find shelter. Later, in accordance with the Mosaic law, they have Jesus circumcised eight days after his birth, and they go to the Temple for Mary's purification. Luke actually implies that it was for both Mary's and Joseph's purification, but according to the law only the woman who gave birth was required to be purified. You can't blame Luke for getting wrong this bit about Jewish custom though; he was a Gentile, and what do they know anyway? Nevertheless, I think he makes his point clear about the humble obedience of the couple. And furthermore, he is careful to note that they offered a pair of turtledoves for their sacrifice, which was the offering of a poor person who could not afford to offer up a lamb.

            Through the faithful examples of Mary and Joseph, Luke firmly roots Jesus in the Jewish tradition. Luke is demonstrating to his Gentile audience that Jesus and his family were good Jews. Jesus was born a Jew and died a Jew. And since Luke is writing to Gentiles, there may have been a concern among them that God's promises to the people of Israel had been revoked. Therefore, he wants to assure his audience that this was not the case, that the promises to the people of Israel have indeed been fulfilled, that they have not been found wanting, and therefore the Gentiles can trust that God's word to them is true. The canticles of Mary (Lk 1:46-55), Zechariah (1:68-79), and Simeon (2:29-32) all bear this theme of the fulfilled promise to the people of Israel. And the last of the three, Simeon's prayer when he encounters the infant Jesus in the Temple, explicitly brings together the fulfilled promise to Israel and the extension of blessing to the Gentiles: "...a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel."

            So what are we to take from all this? Well, to borrow from Shrek, Sacred Scripture is like an onion. It has layers. Indeed, there are numerous layers of meaning that can be gleaned from these infancy narratives, and I have barely peeled back even just one of those thin, sheer layers.

Google Images

The layers of meaning are there for us to unfurl and meditate upon, and they are never exhausted. As we discern the Truth which God is communicating to us in these sacred texts, let us ask ourselves some of those questions I mentioned earlier: What this scripture saying about God's relationship to humanity? What is it saying about who God, revealed in the person of Jesus, truly is? And what is it saying about how we as a human race ought to live with one another? Perhaps this will help us sift deeper through the layered meanings of Scripture and allow it to touch our heart more personally.

            Just to remind you of a few themes discussed in these narratives to guide you in your meditations:

* Jesus is portrayed as a new Moses. Moses led his people out of slavery, spoke with God directly, and gave the Law from God to his people on Mt. Sinai.

*Jesus is adored by foreigners, but rejected by the powerful and those who should have known better.

* Jesus, Mary, and Joseph are portrayed in both Gospels as migrants or refugees and, especially in Luke, are among the poorest in society. In Luke, the savior, Messiah, and Lord is born in the lowliest of states.

* The Good News of salvation is first proclaimed to poor social outcasts.

* God fulfills his promises to his people in the person of Jesus Christ.

* I didn't mention this earlier, but it's worth emphasizing that the infant Jesus was laid in a feeding bin. I cannot say whether or Luke intended this (probably not), but I smell a Eucharistic metaphor. Think about it.

            Hopefully this gives you plenty to reflect upon during this joyous season of Christmas (Dec. 25 – Jan. 10). I don't know if I will have the opportunity to post a new blog for the next couple of weeks, but I think the infancy narratives have enough things in them to chew on for a good while – probably for a lifetime and then some, but there is a lot more in Scripture to ponder. Until next time, I pray you have a blessed Christmas and a happy New Year. And, as always, you may post questions or comments on this page, the Bible Codega Facebook page, or to my e-mail: biblecodega@gmail.com.

God's peace!

---

[1] Daniel J. Harrington, The Gospel of  Matthew, Sacra Pagina 1. (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1991), 47.

The Bible Library: Torah

            When I was in junior high I began to read a chapter of the Bible almost every night, and by the time I was in my third or fourth year of high school I had read up to Isaiah. I didn't really understand prophetic literature, so I gave up on that whole endeavor for awhile. Interestingly enough, what initiated this nightly reading from Scripture wasn't so much youthful piety as it was a really odd sort of punishment. My parents saw that I was using a pencil on which I had written the words "Cupid sucks." Typical thirteen-year-old angst, though I think anyone would admit that I could have written a lot worse. Nevertheless, my parents thought that a good penance for my apparently shocking vulgarity was to read chapter 3 of Genesis (when Adam and Eve eat from the tree in the middle of the garden). Pubescent immaturity... a narrative of the fall of humankind and distortion of relationships. Hmm, it seems a little incongruent if you ask me, but that's what I was told to do.

            For the record, I do not advocate using religion to punish children – of course, I'm not well suited for giving parental advice either, having no children of my own. For me, however, it kind of worked out, and I had decided to keep reading the Bible even after my reprimand for juvenile nonsense. I doubt many other teens would follow suit, but if the worse your child can do is write the words "Cupid sucks," he or she might be the type that would run with it and end up pursuing a religious studies degree. As it turns out, I never returned my mother's Bible after that, and it is currently on my desk beside me as I type. Some lesson learned.

            Some people may be under the impression that in order to read the Bible they should start from Genesis chapter one and read straight through. That is a worthy and laudable endeavor, I suppose, and if you want to do that, that's great, but I personally wouldn't recommend it. Even though I had taken that route as a teenager, I still had not connected very deeply with the Scriptures until I began to learn more about them. In any case, the Bible isn't really a book. If you try to read even just the Old Testament from beginning to end you might start off reading a single narrative, but soon you'll begin reading repeated versions of some of the same stories. You'll also find that not everything in the Bible reads like a story. In fact, most of it doesn't at all. There is a lot more poetry than prose in the Old Testament, for example, and half of the New Testament is letters which are a whole other literary form in and of themselves.

            The Bible is a complex compilation of various literary genres and styles by numerous authors. And if there is anything you should know about the Bible, it is that it didn't just fall into human hands from on high. Not even all of the books in the Bible reflect the exact same theology. What!? I know, you'd think that the Word of God would have its act together, right? This is one of the reasons why we need to use caution and humility when using Scripture. We have to appreciate the fact that the Bible is not so simple. Nevertheless, you can read the Scriptures, and God does speak to us from them today. That's kind of why we listen to the Word proclaimed at our religious services, isn't it?

            For the next couple of weeks I just want to introduce some of the books of Scripture and how they are organized in the Bible. I like to think of the Bible not as a book but as a library. On the left side of the library there are shelves of books of the Old Testament (aka Hebrew Scriptures) and on the right there are bookshelves of the New Testament. Those shelves on the left of our library can be categorized by Torah, the historical books, wisdom or poetical books, and the prophets. That, in fact, is how the Catholic editions of the Bible order the Old Testament and why they are not organized in chronological order. The Jewish canon[1] of Scripture is known as the Tanak, and it is organized by the Torah, the prophets (Nevi'im), and the writings (Kethuvim). I point this out simply because the acronym, TNK, is just brilliant, and it makes me smile!

            For today, let's look at the Torah, also known as the Pentateuch – penta as in pentagon because there are five books: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. The Torah is the most important of the Hebrew Scriptures for the Jewish peoples. It can be said that everything else in the Hebrew Scriptures, and arguably in the New Testament as well, is commentary on the Torah. The word Torah simply means teaching or instruction. Sometime before the Babylonian exile, the word Torah was associated with "the teaching or law of Moses," and by sometime after the exile it essentially referred to these first five books of the Bible.[2] As with all things, there is a lot more that can be said about the meaning of Torah, and it surely has a much deeper connotation in the Jewish faith, but for our purposes if you hear Torah, think Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy.

            Oh, and if you are every perusing a shelf of movies and you come across Tora! Tora! Tora!, do not be fooled. It is not something akin to Fiddler on the Roof as I had thought. I was quite disappointed when I took it off the shelf only to find Japanese World War II aircraft on the cover and not cheerful Jewish elders dancing.

            By way of a brief and almost certainly over-simplified introduction into these five books, here is a little description about each one just to whet your appetite.

Genesis: I think this is a great book to start with if you are new to reading the Old Testament. It's one of my favorite books in the Bible, because it is such a human story. It's got everything: myth, legend, blood, sex, and betrayals, family drama, beautiful struggles and witnesses of faith, and dastardly deeds of human folly. It's like Game of Thrones without the dragons. I'm kidding;  I have never even seen Game of Thrones. The bulk of the narrative, beginning just before chapter 12 through the rest of the book, tells the story of the great Hebrew patriarchs and matriarchs: Abraham & Sarah, Isaac & Rebekah, Jacob (aka Israel) & his two wives, Rachel & Leah, and finally all of Jacob's sons.

Exodus: Another must read! Some of this story we are familiar with from popular culture, but just as with Harry Potter, the book is always better than the movie. Exodus is the story of a saving God, who hears the cry of his people – a people who aren't even all that grateful sometimes. Not only is God a saving God, but he also makes a covenant with his people at Sinai and gives them the law. This was a hallmark of ancient Israelite theology – the salvation from slavery in Egypt, the covenant, the law. The ancient Israelites defined themselves as a people and their relationship with God based on the narratives found in Exodus. Always remember, the God of the Torah is a saving God.

Leviticus: This is one reason why I don't recommend reading the Bible from cover to cover. That isn't to say Leviticus is a bad book; it's mostly a book of laws though. Many of the laws contained within it might seem tedious or unusual for our senses, but essentially many of the laws have to do with holiness. As it says repeatedly "You shall be holy, for I the LORD am holy." Holiness was a technical term, however. It didn't mean piety like we often think of holiness; it meant separation from what was ordinary, and the people of Israel were called not to be ordinary, but extraordinary – a people set apart. That vocation to holiness still remains in the Judeo-Christian tradition, by the way. One last thing I love to point out about the book of Leviticus is that it is in this oft-dismissed book of the Bible that we find that beautiful teaching which so many mistakenly think originated in the New Testament: You shall love your neighbor as yourself (Lev 19:18).

Numbers: To quote biblical scholar Michael Coogan, "Numbers is the most complicated of the entire Pentateuch, in terms of both its content and its sources."[3] Essentially, Numbers is about the Israelites wandering in the desert for forty years. It gets its name from the various censuses of the tribes of Israel that are included in the book. There are some more laws and some interesting narratives in Numbers – even one with a talking donkey (Num 22). Among the things we can take with us from this book is the analogy of wrestling with God. The Israelites do a lot of whining in this book, and while God often chastises, God also always saves.

And finally, Deuteronomy: I love this book. A biblical professor I once had said that Deuteronomy and Isaiah are like the bread and butter of the Hebrew Scriptures. Deuteronomy, whose name means "second law," is more or less Moses' fair-well speech before his death and the Israelites' entry into the promised land. Indeed, a lot of it reiterates many of the laws and narratives found in other parts of the Torah, but with a slightly different theological perspective. My favorite part of Deuteronomy is 7:6-11. The thing to keep in mind with Deuteronomy is covenant and that "the LORD, your God, is God indeed, the faithful God who keeps his merciful covenant... (7:9)." It is God who is faithful, even when we are not.

            So as you can see, the Torah has a lot of laws, but it also has a lot of stories – stories about a people and their intimate relationship with God. Consider for this week some of the stories in your own life about your relationship with God or with the Scriptures. As you can see, my teenage encounter with the Word had some offbeat origins, but sometimes our experiences with the Divine can be a bit humorous. For this week, I recommend reading Exodus 15:1-18. This is one of the oldest passages in Scripture, and it really gives you a sense of how the ancient Israelites thought of and related to their God. One of their earliest recognitions of the character of God was that God saves his people. In reading this passage, think about your image of God. What is your earliest experience with the Divine? Who has God been for you in your life? When you hear how God saves his people, how does that affect you? Do you think God cares about you, or do you think God is aloof and distant?

            As always, I encourage questions and comments, and don't forget to subscribe. Just type your e-mail in the "Follow the codega" box. Tune in next week for a brief introduction to the historical books.

May the Lord bless you and keep you!

---

[1] Canon is the word used to designate the list of authoritative books of the Bible by a religious institution.

[2] Michael D. Coogan, The Old Testament: A Historical and Literary Introduction to the Hebrew Scriptures, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 184.

[3] Coogan, 153.