Why So Apocalyptic? Part I: A Matter of God's Justice

A few weeks ago I posted a blog about what an apocalypse is and what it means to be apocalyptic. For review, you can read the whole thing by clicking here, but in summary here are a few things to keep in mind. Apocalypse means an "unveiling" or a "revelation." In biblical studies it refers to a particular kind of literature, one in which a supernatural message is revealed to a human being through or with the help of a heavenly being. To be apocalyptic is to espouse a worldview in which the spiritual realities of God, angels, demons and the like are real and active in the world. God is in control of his creation and has a plan; the forces of good and evil are in conflict with one another as evidenced on earth, and there will be some ultimate and imminent finale to all this in which God and those aligned with him will triumph.

I guess I could have just said that instead of posting a lengthy blog earlier, but brevity has never been my forte, especially with this much time to write. In any case, I ended that post on a cliff-hanger: Why was there an apocalyptic movement? Why did people write apocalypses? These are complicated questions, and anyone who knows me well knows that I'm high-context. So I apologize; I'm going to have to give you a little bit of biblical background. First, I recommend that you check out my blog post from four years ago entitled "Greek Week: The Bible in the Hellenistic Period." It should provide a fairly decent historical backdrop for Jewish apocalyptic literature.

Like you have somewhere to go. It's spring of 2020.

It's important to keep in mind that the books of the Bible come from a variety of different time periods in Judeo-Christian history. While there is continuity in the Scriptures, over time the Bible also reveals an evolution of theology. One issue that the authors of Scripture grappled with is that of God's justice (a.k.a. theodicy). When it comes right down to it, theodicy today and for much of history asks, If God is all good and all powerful, why does evil exist? For the ancient people of Israel, however, this wasn't quite the question that was on their minds. They didn't try to reconcile God's benevolence and omnipotence with the existence of evil in the same sort of post-enlightenment way that we do. They were more comfortable with accepting the reality that evil exists and that bad things happen.¹ Furthermore, the Scriptures frequently remind us that God has a special love for the poor and seeks to rescue the innocent. All that being said, it didn't stop them from asking why good people suffered so much or why corrupt people seemed to have it so easy.

You see, one prevailing notion from an earlier scriptural tradition was that goodness and faithfulness were rewarded in this lifetime and evil was cursed. Proverbs draws upon this theme quite a bit: e.g. Truly the evil man shall not go unpunished, but those who are just shall escape (Prv 11:21). Another earlier belief was that everyone - the just and the unjust, rich and poor alike - had the same fate after death. They would go to Sheol, a sort of shadowy underworld. Belief in a eternal reward or punishment developed later, as did a theology of resurrection. Until then, there wasn't much of any kind of existence to look forward to in the afterlife. So the suffering of the innocent flew smack into the face of their ideology that the righteous would be blessed and the wicked would be cursed. With the belief that everyone shared the same fate after death, where was God's justice to be found?

Various books and literary styles of the Bible deal with this issue differently. Wisdom literature, like Psalm 49 and Ecclesiastes, point to the futility of wealth. They remind their audience that, since both the rich and the poor will die alike, those who amass riches will not be able to take any of it with them. For Ecclesiastes especially, everything was vanity and that suffering was just a part of life, but the author still believed that God had a plan. We just aren't privy to what that plan is. Down the road, apocalyptic literature will be like, "Guys, I have seen the plan, and let me tell you what it is!" But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Job is perhaps wisdom literature's theodicist par excellence. In the midst of his devastating anguish, his so-called friends keep telling him that he should admit that he did something to offend God and therefore deserved his lot. They tow the line that the good are blessed and the wicked are cursed. But Job maintains his innocence and demands that God explain himself. God's answer is, in short, that God is God and Job is not. However, God justifies Job for speaking rightly of him, while his friends are chastised for upholding a flawed concept of God's justice. One message of Job is that it's fair to question God and God's ways and even to cry out to God for suffering that is unmerited. In the end, though, we'll never quite know why. On the other hand, to think that affliction is a curse for evildoing, or even that wealth and comfort are a reward for righteousness, is definitely not the wisdom of God.

Prophetic literature is different in that it's generally more concerned with the whole of the community or nation than with the individual. Communal suffering, therefore, is attributed to social sin. The prophets were not theodicists, asking why bad things happened to good people. Instead, they were the moral conscience of society, beckoning their communities to fidelity to the covenant. They knew why bad things were happening or would eventually happen. They could see the writing on the wall, the consequences of idolatry, injustice, ill-advised foreign policy, etc., and they called their people out on it. Some prophetic literature though, especially after the Babylonian exile, began to look toward an eschatological climax and end to the suffering of the Jewish people.

PAUSE! Yes, eschatology refers to the end times. Eschaton in Greek is related to the last days, or the end. But don't be afraid! It didn't mean the ultimate annihilation of the earth, though it would probably involve some form of destruction. Rather it refers more to the cosmic fulfillment of time, end of oppression, and renewal of heaven and earth. It's not the end of the world per se; it's the end of the world as we know it. 

You should feel fine. This is really good news!

So now we can start talking about an apocalyptic movement, because you can't have apocalypticism without eschatology.  You can't have an apocalyptic ideology without conflict between good and evil and the pronouncement of God's judgement upon the earth. And you can't have apocalyptic literature without a sense that history is moving forward to some ultimate event, resurrection, renewal, and coming of God's kingdom.

After the Babylonian exile and return to Judea there were certain promises that were not fulfilled. The land didn't belong to the Jewish people anymore; it was a province in the Persian empire. Moreover, they did not have a descendant of David on the throne. There was a prophetic movement to rebuild the Temple so as to hasten these expectations, but even when the Temple was rebuilt, it did not seem that God's reign had come. The Gentiles were ultimately in power, internal corruption was rampant, and infidelity to God's law persisted. Some prophets had pointed to a time of doom and God's intervening salvation in the future: "On that day... on that day." But for centuries that day never seemed to come. For those of the apocalyptic worldview, however, that day was near. So what does it take to go from prophetic to apocalyptic eschatology? The same thing it takes for coal to turn into a diamond: pressure. Pressure, in this case, manifested as oppression and persecution, because apocalyptic literature is not written at Starbucks sipping on a latte, folks.²

Again, I recommend that you check out the Greek Week blog post for a little bit more detail on this period in Old Testament history, but let me do a quick run through on some of what went down.

Under Persian rule things were, relatively speaking, not too bad for the return community, especially after rebuilding a temple by 515 B.C.E. Nevertheless, the collective memory of the Babylonian exile and the destruction of Solomon's Temple would forever be with them. It should be noted that Jews were not just living in Judea, but at this point were all over the Mediterranean and Ancient Near East due to the the deportations of Israel and Judah by the Assyrians and Babylonians respectively This is known as the Diaspora. Much of this Persian period saw a consolidation of their traditions and sacred texts. And then came Alexander the Great, who conquers the Persian Empire (and specifically Palestine in 333 B.C.E.).

While the Persians had been pretty chill about their subjects as long as they paid their tribute, the Greeks were all about Hellenism (i.e. Greek culture). They wanted everyone to be Greek, and there were a lot of Jews who, either from pressure and discrimination or by their own will, assimilated to the Greek culture - learning the language, hiding their circumcision in the gymnasium (or foregoing it altogether), intermarrying with Greeks, etc. It was not outright oppression and persecution, but it was certainly perceived that way by some Jews. A dominant, invasive culture was snuffing out their Jewish identity! They had already experienced the destruction of their monarchy, capital city, and temple for not keeping the covenant once before; they weren't going to lose what little they had left because Jews were compromising their faith and identity.

The earth was ripe for cultivating the seeds of an apocalyptic worldview. Prophetic literature had already begun to set the stage for some kind of restorative culmination to the Jewish narrative since the devastation of Babylon. It was clear that there were forces of good (those who kept the covenant) and forces of evil (those who made concessions to their faith and Gentiles who led Jews astray). It was in this time of cultural crisis that early apocalypses were composed, though almost none of them made it into the Jewish canon of Scripture. A radical theodicy was developing in which the suffering faithful would be vindicated and the backsliders and oppressors would get their comeuppance. No more of the equalizing perception of death from the wisdom literature of the past. The theme of judgment becomes very prevalent, and in fact is one characteristic that is in nearly all apocalyptic writings.

One example of an early apocalypse is the Book of the Watchers, which is part of a much larger corpus known as Enochic literature after its protagonist, Enoch. Enoch is an obscure figure from Genesis, and it says of him, "Enoch walked with God, and he was no longer here, for God took him" (Gen 5:24). The mystery surrounding Enoch made him a perfect candidate for someone to have supposedly received a secret revelation from God about the future. So in this book, as with other apocalypses, the visionary is taken on an otherworldly journey and learns of the places of paradise prepared for the righteous and those of torment for the wrongdoers.

The Watchers also draws on another obscure passage from Genesis in which angels from heaven have intercourse with the women on earth and beget giants known has the Nephilim (Gen 6:1-4). Now I urge you not to read too much into that weird passage. I can't say the same thing to the apocalyptists at the turn of the second century B.C.E., though. This narrative from Genesis made some interesting source material for them. We'd probably call it fan fiction today. In Enoch's account, the evil "Watcher" angels teach humans things like weaponry, cosmetics, fornication, and astrology (1 Enoch 8:1-4). Some scholars speculate that this may be an allegorical reference to leaders of the Greek forces teaching the Jewish people their pagan ways.³ Later on in the story we discover that there's a special place in hell (so to speak) prepared for the Watchers. We can assume that the authors felt the same for the Greeks as well as those Jews who had succumbed to Greek ways.

 Whereas the issue at hand in the early stages of this apocalyptic movement had to do with cultural and religious compromise, the pressures from persecution were about to become more dire, and the apocalyptic heat was about to get turned up! It was one thing to feel as though justice was lacking when fidelity to the covenant made life challenging. Even more so when your fellow Jew was living well yet betraying the Torah. But what happens when all perceptions of God's justice go up in smoke and you're put to death because you keep the covenant? Extreme times such as that call for extreme literature!

On that note, I'll leave you with another cliff-hanger until I write again. Next time I shall write about that son-of-a-beast, Antiochus IV, and the effect of bloodshed on apocalyptic writings. I hope, though, that this provides some insight into how apocalypticism developed, especially in regards to the notion of God's justice in the midst of fidelity and compromise to God's Law. In the meantime, my Scripture recommendation for the week is 1 Maccabees 1:1-64. I know it's not in every Bible, so if it's not in yours at home, you can click the link and read it online. This chapter and all the atrocities described within really get at the heart of why there was an apocalyptic movement at this time in Jewish history. As you read it, put yourself in the shoes of the Jewish people living under the reign of Antiochus. What would be your response to God? How would you interpret your experience? What kind of salvation would you look forward to, and how would you want God's justice to unfold?

Until next time,

Peace and all good,
Bro. Ian

P.S. Don't forget that you can subscribe to this blog by entering your email address in the "Follow the Codega" box. You can also also like and follow @biblecodega on Facebook for even more scriptural reflections.

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1 Gregory Stevenson, A Slaughtered Lamb: Revelation and the Apocalyptic Response to Evil and Suffering, (Abilene, ACU Press, 2013), 40-45.^↩
2 Timothy Milinovich, Class Lecture, January 12, 2010.^↩
3 Mitchell Reddish Ed., Apocalyptic Literature: A Reader, (Peabody, Abingdon Press, 1990), 145.^↩

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.  

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.