So Solomon sat on the throne of his father David, and his rule was firmly established. 

//Solomon is recognized in the Bible as the richest, wisest king ever, securing the blessing of God. But he hardly endeared himself to his people, with the excessive slavery and taxation required to build his empire. Did God’s blessing go to Solomon’s head, so that in time he became greedy?

Often, Solomon is portrayed as one who strayed in the latter part of his life, but one wonders how much the rest of his story is politically contrived. Certainly, his beginning exceeds his ending in wickedness.

So King Solomon gave orders to Benaiah son of Jehoiada, and he struck down Adonijah and he died.—verse 25

To the priest Abiathar, Solomon said he deserved death, but because of his allegiance to David he would be spared. He was simply stripped of his power. When Joab (who was also loyal to Adonijah) heard what happened to Abiathar, he fled to the house of God and took hold of the altar. But Solomon showed no mercy:

King Solomon was told that Joab had fled to the tent of the LORD and was beside the altar. Then Solomon ordered Benaiah son of Jehoiada, “Go, strike him down!”—verse 29

Shimei’s fate began as a mere house arrest, with the threat of death if he ever left Jerusalem. But Shimei’s slaves ran off and he chased after them outside the city and …

Then the king gave the order to Benaiah son of Jehoiada, and he went out and struck Shimei down and killed him. The kingdom was now firmly established in Solomon’s hands.—verse 46 

One wonders how Solomon’s story would read if this Benaiah fellow had written it.

//Having pared the believable birth stories down from two to one—Matthew’s rendition instead of Luke’s—let’s now take a hard look at Matthew, and see if he really meant us to interpret his version literally.

Let’s begin with how Matthew crafts his story as a fulfillment of Isaiah 7:14, particularly the Septuagint (the Greek translation of the original Hebrew), which in translation erroneously changed the Hebrew word for “young maiden” into “virgin”: “The young maiden” thus became “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.” Why is this virgin birth important to Matthew? Perhaps because Jesus’ competitor, the Lord and Savior of the Roman Empire, Caesar Augustus, the man who demanded to be called Son of God, shares a similar story. Suetonius, a Roman historian, tells how Augustus was born of the union of the god Apollo and his human mother Atia, after Atia’s husband received a vision of a miraculous child (he dreamed the sun rose from Atia’s womb). This mirrors the union of God and Mary in Matthew’s story, after Joseph learns of its divine sanction in a dream. Matthew is posturing that a greater Son of God than Augustus has arrived. My book about Revelation examines this competition between Christianity and the Imperial Cult in more detail.

With this competition in mind, let’s look next at the massacre of the innocents. The slaughter of children by Herod has an interesting origin, again relating to Jesus’ opponent, Caesar Augustus. Seutonius writes, [A] public portent warned the Roman people some months before Augustus’s birth that Nature was making ready to provide them with a king; and this caused the Senate such consternation that they issued a decree which forbade the rearing of any male child for a whole year.

Few critical Bible scholars consider the “massacre the innocents” by Herod to have really happened; a decree of this nature would surely be recorded by Jewish and Roman historians alike. Was Matthew’s birth story meant, then, merely to heighten the competition between the Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of the World?

Another take on Matthew’s birth story tomorrow.

//We’re still on the topic of why most Liberal Christians do not believe literally in the virgin birth, and in the last two days, we’ve discussed the internal viewpoint and the honorific viewpoint. Let’s now look at the historical evidence.

A close look at the two birth stories in Matthew and Luke show them to be quite different, not only in the genealogy they trace back to David, but in the manner in which Joseph and Mary find themselves in Bethlehem at the time of Jesus’ birth and what they do after the birth. In Matthew, they already live in Bethlehem but soon flee to Egypt to avoid Herod; in Luke, they travel to Bethlehem for a census, as ordered by Syrian governor Quirinius, and 40 days after the birth they go to Jerusalem, not Egypt.

So which of the two do we choose as “historical?” The problem with Luke’s story is that it could only be true if Jesus were born on or after 6 CE, for that is when Quirinius arrived from Syria, so such a census (of which we have no historical attestation) could not have been ordered before that. On the other hand, Matthew’s story implies that Jesus was born at least ten years earlier, since Matthew refers to Herod the Great, who died in 4 BCE. One of the two stories is clearly fabricated; more scholars lean toward Matthew’s version, and date the birth of Christ around 4 BCE, for who would believe Mary would make a needless 90-mile journey in the final days of her pregnancy, as Luke describes? According to the genealogies given, only the Davidic Joseph had to be registered in Bethlehem, not the Levitical Mary.

This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit.

Today, I’d like to focus on what it means to say someone had a miraculous birth. We must remember that the New Testament is primarily a first-century collection of writings, portraying a first-century mindset. The virgin birth stories in the Bible were written in an age and for an audience who understood such stories to be not literal events, but a means of honoring great men, heroes, or gods. Hellenistic stories were rife with the idea of a god impregnating a human woman. The births of Caesar Augustus and Alexander the Great are good examples. Jesus was neither the first nor the last in a long line of miracle births throughout the known world.

Thus, when a pagan polemicist named Celsus attacks Christianity in his letter On the True Doctrine, he does not bother to address the impossibility of a literal virgin birth for Christ, but rather, whether Christ deserves such a tale told about him. Celsus states, in pretending to address Jesus, “After all, the old myths of the Greeks that attribute a divine birth to Perseus, Amphion, Aeacus and Minor are equally good evidence of their wondrous works on behalf of mankind–and are certainly no less lacking in plausibility than the stories of your followers. What have you done by word of deed that is quite so wonderful as those heroes of old?”

//Liberal Christians like myself often don’t feel it’s necessary to read the Bible in an entirely literal manner. Some of the stories, we insist, not only contradict common sense but were never meant to be read literally in the first place!

Consider the virgin birth of Christ. The Christmas story is a staple of Christian belief, it seems, yet was it really meant to be read as history? While I would never criticize you for believing in the story as a historical event, I don’t think it’s necessary for Christians to believe Christ was born of a virgin. There are a number of clues that make me believe otherwise.

To kick off this series, let me point out that the earliest writings in the New Testament imply otherwise. Pauline and Markan writings don’t just ignore the virgin birth, they hint that their authors didn’t believe it … probably have never heard any such stories. Paul writes merely that Jesus was “born of a woman, born under the law” (for an idea of how this phrase was understood, see Job 1:1, 15:14, 25:4) and that Jesus descended from David “according to the flesh.” In today’s verse, Paul hints at Adoptionism; the popular understanding among many early Christians that Jesus became the Son of God later in life, rather than at birth. Meanwhile, Mark portrays Jesus as estranged from his family, disowning mother and brothers, hardly an endorsement for the idea of Mary being informed by an angel of Jesus’ divinity. The evidence from the Bible seems to point to the idea that the virgin birth stories evolved 40-50 years after Christ died.

Continued tomorrow.

//This verse is part of the Lord’s Prayer (the “Our Father”), and it reads straightforwardly. But what does it mean? How can God forgive our debts?

It’s possible to read too straightforwardly, but it’s equally possible to not read straightforwardly enough. We must remember the climate of first-century peasantry, where debt was a serious foe, ranking up there with food and shelter. If a person fell into debt, he would most likely lose his land or wind up in indentured servitude (temporary slavery).

Thus when Jesus came proclaiming the year of the Jubilee (see Luke 4:19), the year when all debts are forgiven, he was referring directly to releasing the burden of debt.

It’s common to read the Lord’s Prayer like this: Forgive us our sins, as we forgive the sins of others. But those who had fallen into debt aren’t sinners, they are merely unfortunates. It is not by forgiving the sins of others that we appeal to God, but by lifting up those who have fallen on hard times…especially if they owe a debt to us.

//Everybody knows the answer to today’s question. Jesus ascended to heaven forty days after the resurrection, as indicated in the book of Acts. Why, then, does Luke give a different story? Let’s trace the events through the final chapter of Luke:

Verse 1 tells us that “the women” went to the tomb early on the first day of the week, and found Jesus gone.

Verse 13 says that on the very same day, Jesus met with two men on the road to Emmaus. They soon sit down to dinner.

Verse 33 says that after Jesus disappeared from their sight, they got up and returned at once to Jerusalem, and met with the Eleven.

Verse 36 indicates that while they were talking about this, Jesus appeared to them.

Then verse 50, the very same day, Jesus leads them out to Bethany, where he ascends into heaven.

The most curious thing about this story is not that Jesus ascends on the day of his resurrection. After all, John’s Gospel says the same thing (see verse 20:17, where the present tense is clear: Jesus is ascending at that moment), before appearing back on the ground a week later. What’s curious is that scholars universally agree that the author of Luke also wrote the book of Acts. The same author has Jesus ascend the day of his resurrection and then has him ascend again 40 days later.

Were there two ascensions?

And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain.

//It’s amazing how many figures of speech come from the Bible. Today’s verse is one of many examples provided by Rev. Anne Robertson in her book, What is the Bible? Here are a few more:

But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die. –Genesis 3:3 (Forbidden fruit)

And Jesus knew their thoughts, and said unto them, Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand: –Matthew 12:25 (A house divided against itself cannot stand)

 Let them alone: they be blind leaders of the blind. And if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch. –Matthew 15:14 (The blind leading the blind)

 My bone cleaveth to my skin and to my flesh, and I am escaped with the skin of my teeth. –Job 19:20 (By the skin of your teeth)

Part of the problem is that the books of Revelation and John’s Gospel were popular among competitive versions of Christianity, such as the Montanists. Montanus claimed to be the embodiment of John’s Paraclete (Holy Spirit), and loved to refer to the book of Revelation. A majority of bishops in Asia Minor voted to censor both books, protesting that they contained only blasphemous lies. A Roman priest named Gaius argued that both had been written not by an apostle but by a heretic named Cerinthius.

Later in the second century, however, Revelation’s promise of tribulation began to hit home with Christians. Justin and Irenaeus, two early apologists, strongly championed Revelation, recognizing its themes as occurring in their own lifetime. Justin referred to the killing of a Christian philosopher named Ptolemy, and claimed he knew of similar executions. It was clear to Justin that demonic powers were inciting Rome’s rulers to hunt and kill Christians, just as John of Patmos described.

Shortly after Justin’s death, Irenaeus threw in his lot with Revelation. He witnessed a dozen Christians killed in Smyrna, including Irenaeus’s beloved mentor, Bishop Polycarp. In 177, riots broke out in Gaul as Christians were arrested, imprisoned, and tortured. More than forty died in the arenas as a public spectacle, killed by wild animals.

If the era John of Patmos originally wrote about—the late first century—provided the best fit to Revelation’s prophecies, the late second century provided a close second. Throughout the centuries for 2,000 years, Christians would continue to point to the signs of the times, yet Jesus continued to delay his return. Today we still read Revelation as a prophecy of our own times, wondering why Jesus still waits.

//Holy convocations. The word “feast”, in the original Hebrew, means an “appointment with God.”

When God declared a feast day for the Children of Israel, it was more than opportunity for gluttony. It was even more than a day of thanksgiving, in remembrance of the goodness of God. It was, in fact, a sort of dress rehearsal. This “appointment with God” was a reminder and a preparation for the great Day of the Lord, in which the new age would be inaugurated with a great feast.

Readers of Revelation will recognize the feast theme throughout the book, culminating in a great celebration of the age of plenty, when food and wine would be overflowing. Readers of John’s Gospel will recognize the feast theme throughout that book as well, as John leads us from one feast setting to another, gently reminding us of the great day God has planned. Christians, today, may not be nearly as aware of the intense meaning behind these Johannine themes, and thus miss much of the atmosphere John wanted to convey.

But as we Americans enjoy our feast today, let’s remember the dream Jesus held of a new age when all would be filled with the abundance of God’s provision. Perhaps we can each help bring that dream about.

I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come, to be your God and the God of your descendants after you.

//Yesterday, I introduced Paul as the Apostle to the gentiles, and hinted that he may have found a loophole which lets the gentiles slip into the covenant of Abraham. This covenant, as it reads in today’s verse, looks like it specifically excludes gentiles: it is between God, Abraham, and Abraham’s descendants (the Jews).

Paul, however, reads this verse differently. Note that the original Hebrew more precisely refers not to the descendants of Abraham, but to his seed. Same thing, right? Not to Paul. The seed (singular, not plural) of Abraham is one man: Jesus.

The promises were spoken to Abraham and to his seed. The Scripture does not say “and to seeds,” meaning many people, but “and to your seed,” meaning one person, who is Christ.–Galatians 3:16

Thus we find that the covenant is actually between three people: God, Abraham, and Jesus. What does this mean? It leads into Paul’s theology, his understanding of God’s cosmic plan for the world:

There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.–Galatians 3:29

As Paul explains to the Corinthians (1 Cor. 12:2), believers are no longer gentiles. They are full-blooded descendants of Abraham, through their birth in Christ!