Soul food

‘There is no need for them to go: give them something to eat yourselves.’ But they answered, ‘All we have with us is five loaves and two fish.’ ‘Bring them here to me,’ he said. He gave orders that the people were to sit down on the grass; then he took the five loaves and the two fish, raised his eyes to heaven and said the blessing. And breaking the loaves he handed them to his disciples who gave them to the crowds. They all ate as much as they wanted, and they collected the scraps remaining, twelve baskets full.

Matthew 14: 16 - 20

One of the hardest things about celebrating a special event – birthdays, engagements, weddings, anniversaries, new jobs and qualifications – is the guest list. One of my ‘’wishes’ was to see my children marry – and have very small weddings, there really are much better ways to spend hard-earned dollars! Nevertheless, the lists often include immediate family, some extended family members, best friends and their partners, old friends and workmates. There may even be your parents’ best friends, your godparents and grandparents and throw in the odd neighbour. The list can easily blow out – ask anyone who has been married or has put on a birthday party for an entire classroom of children and their parents! The science of paring down the number of guests involves many hours and much anxiety. It is a well-known fact that many men either cannot master the science or are simply dis- or uninterested. Many a tear has been shed.

Seldom in life are we invited to celebrations in which the invitation is so open that all are invited, where there are no limits to the number who might wish to attend, where everything is provided.  And, where the host is welcoming and inviting. Such is the invitation the Lord offers (Isaiah 55:1 – 3). But there are conditions:  you must approach him and listen, and the reward for doing so is that ‘your soul will live’. 

Matthew (14:13 – 21) tells the story of Jesus feeding the 5000 from five loaves and two fish. Jesus had just heard of the death of his cousin John Baptist and he wanted to find some place quiet, despite leaving by boat, a crowd followed him by foot. He took pity on them, healed them and when they were hungry, he tells his disciples to give them something to eat and he fed them. Indeed, after they had eaten, there were twelve baskets full remaining. His legacy, however, was an equally marvellous miracle: the disciples were now able to what Jesus asked them to do - give the crowd something to eat.

It’s great to receive an embossed, personal invitation – yet the invitation that the Lord proffers is not a one-off, it begins, so Isaiah and the Psalmist tell us, from the moment we are created and it continues to the last breath we take. Such is his consistent love for us. If the Lord had an invitation list, all our names would be written there – including our least favourite aunts, the kid who punched you in nose in Grade 3 and the bloke who swore at you for taking his car park. 

Take up your invitation, listen, and let your soul live.

Peter Douglas

There is no such thing as a plain reading of the Bible

by Matthew Distefano

from Best of Pantheos, 27 July 2020

Last week, I published an article for the new NRSV website entitled “Reading the Bible Through the Lens of the Forgiving Victim.” And while I was happy to do so—it’s not often folks like me get to write for historically conservative outfits like Zondervan—I knew that once they shared it on social media, you-know-what was going to hit the fan.

And it did. It certainly did.

Besides all the troll-status comments—and there were many—one reply that really stuck out to me went a little something like this:

“There is no ‘interpret the Bible,’ there is only the plain reading of the text by honest men who have a good conscience towards God. The motive for anything else is ALWAYS cowardice.”

Now, besides the blatant ad hominem, namely that anyone who “interprets” the Bible is really just a coward, there is even a bigger problem with a statement like this. And it becomes even more problematic when you realize that a large portion of Christianity actually believes it.

The problem, of course, is that this statement and ones like it are meaningless. Why? Because there is no such thing as a “plain reading of the text.”

First off, no one approaches the Bible tabula rasa, that is, with a blank slate. Everyone, including myself of course, approaches the text with presuppositions. Everyone reads the text through the lens of their own culture, theology, philosophy, and phenomenological experiences. And while we can do our best to transport ourselves into the various cultures the Bible comes from—the Bronze Age, Second Temple Judaism, and so on—we can never fully grasp what it would have been like to actually live in these time periods.

What’s more, everyone I know is reading their Bibles in English. Why is this important? News flash: English isn’t a language spoken by any of the characters or writers of the Bible, nor any of the earliest Christian theologians. Torah was written in Hebrew. Jesus spoke Aramaic. Paul wrote in Koine Greek. Augustine’s Greek sucked so he wrote in Latin. English wasn’t on the scene until 1066, and even that variety looks nothing like it does today (if you don’t believe me, just try reading Beowulf in its original form).

Let me offer an example of what I mean.

Take the doctrine of hell, for instance. In a handful of places throughout the Gospels, the term “hell” is used. Jesus warns people that they will end up in “hell” if they don’t change their ways. But what did he really mean? Well, that is where we would have to do our best to transport ourselves back into the first century and attempt to discern his words through the eyes of a Second Temple Jew.

With this as our lens, upon hearing the term “hell,” we would automatically know that Jesus is, first and foremost, talking about a literal valley just to the south of Jerusalem. How do we know this? Because Jesus used the Aramaic term that translates to “Gehenna,” which, in Hebrew, best translates to “the valley of Hinnom.” This is the place where, in 586 BCE, the Babylonians burned the bodies of the dead Jews after they sacked the city of Jerusalem. And it is also the place where, only a few decades after the death of Jesus, the Romans would do the same thing.

At the same time, however, some Jews indeed believed that Gehenna represented a place of punishment in the afterlife for those who turned their backs on God and lived wicked lives. So, it theoretically could be the context from which Jesus was speaking to. Will we ever know for sure? I don’t know. I have my ideas and loose conclusions, but that isn’t really the point of this piece. The point is that we can not read things “plainly” for the sole reason that the meaning we draw from texts is never plain. There are always layers of meaning, especially when it comes to Jesus. I mean, not for nothing, but that dude spoke in complex parables and used a healthy dose of rhetoric in his teachings, so to my mind, to reduce him down to “plain readings” is an offense to the way in which he operated.

Furthermore, having a “plain reading” is an offense to Judaism in general. How so? That’s not how the Jews rolled. Sure, some of the more fundamentalist types wanted to use Torah to “plainly” argue for their own personal theologies—as well as inflict all sorts of punishments on so-called sinners (see John 8:1–11)—but Judaism is nothing if it is not an ongoing dialogue about God, the nature of God, and how we can relate to God in the present. This is fairly clear if you read the Hebrew Scriptures.

Don’t believe me? Read the book of Job. We all know the story. Job is initially blessed by God for being a totally righteous dude, one of the best around. But then in a cruel twist of fate, his life completely goes down the crapper and he is faced with strife, disease, and the deaths of his loved ones. His so-called friends then show up and, given their theological assumption that God always punishes the wicked (I mean, Deuteronomy 28 is fairly clear), spend the next 36 chapters asking him what the hell he did to deserve this. Job’s response: Nothing. “Nothing? Bullshit!” say the friends. “Yeah, nothing.” Over and over, this goes on. And then, in chapter 42, the clincher. God shows up to set the record straight. But he doesn’t quote Deuteronomy 28—you know, all those passages about how those who are righteous are blessed with riches and abundance while those who are wicked are sent dust and malady. No! He turns to one of the friends and says: “My wrath is kindled against you and against your two friends; for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.”

This must have confounded the friends. After all, they were only doing what’s right according to a “plain reading of the text.” They were only going by what was plainly written in places like Deuteronomy 28. But they were wrong. And Job was right. God isn’t the blessing and cursing God like was plainly understood. It was much more complicated and nuanced than that.

And that is the point. What the Bible teaches us is that our experiences in life matter when it comes to how we read the text. The text is important, sure. But our experiences are always the subjective lens through which we view the text. Job knew this. And Job was right.

Of course, this only problematizes things. What we must remember, however, is that that is okay. In fact, it’s healthy. It’s healthy to live in the tension of the mystery. Not only does it help us grow, but it compels us to read texts like the Bible in community. It compels us to wrestle with the text, with one another, even with God.

So, let us not be cowards and hide behind the supposed “plain reading of the text.” Let us take a step out from that nonsense, like Job, and put our foot down when we know something’s not quite right. Let us hear the voice of God today, and ask “How can I draw meaning from the Bible in a world that looks nothing like it does when it was written?” Let us be a little more like Job and a little less like his friends.

Peace.

Matthew J. Distefano is the author of 4 books, as well as a co-host of the Heretic Happy Hour podcast. He lives in Chico, California with his wife and daughter.