Blogs

[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog March 7 2006]

Someone recently mentioned the MySpace + Xanga phenomenon that has overtaken teenagers, and how they are often handling it. Namely, they are speaking things, and in ways, that they would not do otherwise. They write, on the one hand, as if they are speaking in privacy – and yet, the persona constructed could never be constructed in a “live” private setting. (Of course, teens are not the only ones of which this is true.)

In this connection, Neil Postman’s idea of pretty much equating medium and message comes up. Whatever Postman’s faults (and I think he tends to err in the direction of technology providing us with a setting that is inherently wicked), there is an inextricable connection between medium and message.

Or perhaps it would simply be better to say that each medium presents us with different challenges of sanctification. I’ve been blogging for several years, and I’m still learning how to communicate in this medium in a godly fashion. I still have a long way to go. Handling technology is not a wicked thing, but every technology presents its own challenges and temptations.

These temptations do not stand alone, of course. They are but particularized forms of the temptations we already face. But a given technology can exacerbate things.

To be more concrete, let’s reflect upon two sins which we can look at both generally and specifically: anger and dishonesty.

All of us as fallen creatures have some sort of tendency to engage in sins of anger, although this is to greater and lesser degrees, and takes different forms. In the real world, there are certain factors which tend to limit or at least shape how our anger expresses itself. These factors affect each of us differently. But in general, most of us have a certain shame mechanism that keeps us from blowing up in public; and even in more private settings it can kick in. But the technological atmosphere of the blog – and this can vary even between one sort of blogging venue and another, I think – can pull these factors in odd ways, because of the sort of “spill your guts” personal-diary form that it takes. But for all that, it is still a public setting that – depending of course on your access settings, should you have them – the whole world can read.

But is the problem the technology? No, not really. Because the things that should not be said are mostly things that should not be thought either. We’ve just been given a medium where our sinful hearts can expose themselves more publicly than otherwise. But the medium is not the problem, and the medium did not introduce the sin. The medium simply gave occasion for us to make our sin embarrassingly public.

Something similar can be said with regard to the issue of honesty, and here I am referring to how we project ourselves to others. To be sure, this is tricky territory. I’m well aware that I come across very differently in person than I do on the printed page or on the computer monitor. No doubt, a sort of projection is part of that. But part of it is simply the nature of the medium, and it’s not entirely accurate to simply suppose that reading what someone says has nothing to do with knowing them. Rather, you are knowing them according to how they communicate via the written word, rather than according to “in-the-flesh” interaction.

Furthermore, even in person we “project.” The people you meet daily see a person that is only partial, and perhaps in many respects, quite false. The people who live with you day after day in a variety of circumstances almost certainly see a rather different person – for better or worse. So personality projection is not unique to the written word.

Nonetheless, the written word presents a particular sort of framework, a different kind of opportunity to (as it were) “create” ourselves for an audience that cannot see us. The extreme illustration, of course, would be the online predators and “hobbyists” who hang around chat rooms pretending to be 16-year-old girls, when in reality they range from 11-year-old boys to 70-year-old dirty old men. But there are more subtle ways in which we can “create” ourselves online, present ourselves to be people other than we are. I’m not “cool” either online or in person, but I suspect that I can fake it better online than otherwise. Online it’s easier to hide my nervousness, my awkwardness, and my awful fashion sense, if nothing else.

The point where I’m going with all of this is simply that the Internet has not manufactured new sins. But it has given us new contexts within which to express the old ones. Whether we are teenagers, teenagers’ parents, or web-savvy adults, we all need to deal with the technology as a challenging context for sanctification. Having a blog doesn’t give us a king’s X to say whatever crosses our minds; the Christian calling is one of love toward others and self-control (Gal 5.22, 23). Having a MySpace account doesn’t give us license to pretend we are someone else; the Christian calling is to be humble and truthful.

As always is the case with sanctification, all of this is easier said than done. Recognizing the challenge is not the same as meeting it in the power of the Spirit. But recognizing the challenge is nonetheless part of “knowing the time” and preparing ourselves to fight the battle.

[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog Feb 1 2006]

Mark 4.33 says, “in many such parables He spoke to them the Word, just as they were able to hear.”

What does that mean? It surely does not mean, “as far (or as many – i.e. “as many parables”) as they were capable of understanding,” since even Jesus’ closest disciples lacked the capacity to understand, as is already seen earlier in the chapter.

If we can suppose that these parables are spoken, not only to the disciples, but to the multitudes (as v 34b demonstrates), and compare this statement with what appears in 4.10ff (regarding Jesus speaking to the multitudes in parables, so that “seeing they may see and not perceive, and hearing they may hear and not understand; lest they should turn and their sins be forgiven them”), then it seems to me that v 34 means something like this: “In many such parables Jesus spoke to them, just as that is all they had power to hear.” In other words, He keeps speaking to them in parables, because they do not have the “ears to hear” which He has been calling for (e.g. 4.23); their hearts and minds are left with a mystery. Thus, kathos (“just as”) is functioning in a comparative manner, and not with the sense of “to the degree that”) – something like “even as.”

I’m not sure if that does full justice to the Greek word edunanto (“able”), but that’s my best guess at the moment, and it conforms to what immediately follows: “but without a parable He did not speak to them.” This again ties back to 4.10ff. Edit: this usage of “able” in connection with understanding would seem to fit well with John 8.43: “Why do you not know My speech? Because you are not able to hear My Word.”

[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog Jan 31 2006]

Last week, I preached on the parable of the sower, seed, and soils (Mk 4.1-20), and drew attention to the fact that Jesus did not use parables so that people could better understand via His helpful illustrations; rather, He used them because He was turning those people over to the hardness of their hearts and deadness of their ears. The explanations were left for the “insiders” (4.10).

While that is all interesting and important, it is only part of the story. In the next passage, Jesus goes on to clarify. Here is a literal translation of Mark 4.21-22:

And He said to them, “Does a light come in order that it may be placed under a measure, or under the couch? Is it not in order that upon a lampstand it may be placed? For it is not hidden, except in order to be manifest, nor did it become secret, but in order that it may become manifest.”

He then goes on in succeeding parables to speak of how the seed is hidden in the ground, but nonetheless sprouts and grows beyond human reason, coming to fruition as harvestable grain (4.28-29) or as a bush with great branches which shade the birds (4.32).

It seems to me, then, that there is a lot more going on here than at first meets the eye. The point of the “hiddenness” of Jesus’ message of the kingdom – spoken in parables – is not that the Word become privatized among the “insiders,” but that it break forth and give light to all. If I’m right, that’s an interesting balance with the judgment language of 4.10ff. By “hiding” the kingdom Word among His disciples, Jesus is nonetheless still aiming at its public triumph.

[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog Jan 25 2006]

Tonight I’m leading a Bible study on Peter Leithart’s excellent book, A House for My Name. We are dealing with two books which refer to the exilic time period: Daniel and Esther.

Although the general assumption is that Mordecai acts faithfully throughout the book, Leithart suggests otherwise. He believes that unlike Daniel and company, Mordecai has not submitted properly to the will of Yahweh in connection with “the times of the Gentiles.” Leithart adds that Mordecai’s mourning in sackcloth and ashes in 4.1-3 is an act of repentance.

Here is a summary of what Leithart considers to be evidence of Mordecai’s unfaithfulness:

1. Mordecai’s name, which means something like “worshipper of Marduk,” a god of Babylon

2. Mordecai’s instructions to Esther to keep her identity known; he should have encouraged confession of Yahweh and His people

3. Mordecai’s failure to bow before Haman is an act of disobedience to the authority God has established over Israel (note: it was not impermissible to bow before rulers, and faithful people throughout Scripture did so – e.g. both Bathsheba and Nathan the prophet bow before David in 1 Kg 1.16, 23).

4. Leithart also suggests that Mordecai wanted Esther to be queen so that he himself could have more power.

These are interesting observations, and I don’t claim I can explain every difficulty with regard to Mordecai’s actions. Nonetheless, at this point I do not find the above line of reasoning compelling. Taking up the above observations in order:

1. While Mordecai’s name is interesting, and could be telling where other evidence of unfaithfulness is strong, I’m not at all sure much weight can be given it. In fact, the parallel with Daniel suggests just the opposite. As we know from Daniel, numerous Jews had been renamed by the Babylonians, including all four of the principal players in the book: Daniel himself (who is called Belteshazzar), Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego – all names derived from Mesopotamian gods, replacing El and Yah based names. In fact, Belteshazzar is based upon Bel (“may Bel protect his life”) – another name for Marduk. Since Esther is set in the Persian period, the renaming has likely already taken place, and Mordecai’s name in no way demonstrates that either he or his family are devoted to Marduk rather than Yahweh. (Cf our own usage of days of the week with names rooted in pagan mythology.)

2. While Mordecai instructs Esther to maintain her identity as a secret, his own clearly is not, since Haman knows that the one who refuses to bow to him is a Jew, which is after all what provokes the decree for destruction. Hence, whatever Mordecai’s motive in calling for secrecy on Esther’s part, it doesn’t seem to be one of any general wish to fail to confess Israel and her God.

3. With regard to the authority issue, (1) is it settled that Mordecai ought to have done obeisance to an Amalekite? and (2) Mordecai’s foiling of the plot against Ahasuerus already in 2.19ff indicates that he was indeed seeking the well-being of the king God had placed in authority.

4. I don’t think it is at all clear that Mordecai is seeking personal power in desiring Esther’s queenship. Rather the opposite, it seems to me that the very fact that Mordecai instructs Esther not to make her people or family known (2.10) indicates that he really had no such concern.

As to 4.1-3, I don’t see any sign that the sackcloth and ashes are those of repentance for previous sin. The text seems completely consonant with acts of mourning elsewhere whenever disaster strikes, and there is no hint that Mordecai sees himself as having done wrong, as far as I can see. It is not his sin, but the fact that Mordecai has “learned all that happened” (i.e. the decree of destruction) that causes Mordecai to weep. And although disaster often occasions repentance in Scripture, that simply is left unmentioned here, which is odd if that is the real issue.

I’d be interested in hearing the thoughts of readers, whether in support of Leithart’s thesis, or in corrective dialogue with it.

Well, it looks like I’ve got this show on the road!

If you find anything that seems to be broken, please let me know by contacting me via my contact form.

As you can see, I am updating timgallant.org to a WordPress site. This front page will collate three categories of blogs: (1) an informal blog with personal info, comments on sports, music etc; (2) a “tech” blog oriented toward web development, graphic design and so on; and (3) “Scriptorium,” for biblical studies, which will replace my rabbisaul blog.

Hopefully, this will be up and running within the next day or two.