★★★★★

This is really two books in one, and both are excellent. Hershel Shanks (editor of my favorite mag, Biblical Archaeology Review) tells the story of the discovery of the James ossuary, and Ben Witherington describes the person both scholars believe this limestone burial box belonged to: James, the brother of Jesus. I’ve been following Shanks’ arguments in BAR over the years, so I already know he’s a proponent of the ossuary’s authenticity.

The box itself is inscribed “James, son of Joseph, brother of Jesus.” The Bible agrees: Jesus’ father was Joseph and one brother was James. The box was discovered in the collection of a private collector, who had no recollection of its origin … and no idea of its potentially incredible value. It’s dated pretty accurately to the first century, so while we cannot say with any certainty that it’s authentic to THE Jesus, both authors are convinced it’s an authentic first-century bone box.

This practice of removing the bones from the tomb and burying them again in a small box was practiced only for a short time, from about 20 BC to 70 AD. This, too, points to the period of Jesus. But what are the odds that this box once held the bones of the brother of Jesus? All three of these names—Jesus (Yeshua), James (Ya’akov), and Joseph (Yosef)—were quite common back then, but it’s still possible to estimate the odds. One estimate is that about 20 such James’s (with the indicated brother and father) would have lived in that period; another estimate is between 2 and 4. But how many would have a brother so famous that his brother’s name would be indicated on his ossuary? That would be a rarity. If this is the brother of the “real” Jesus, then, as Shanks posits, this little box may be “the most astonishing find in the history of archaeology.”

Then Witherington takes over halfway through the book to tell us about James, the brother of Jesus. Who he was, what he taught, how he died. While Peter and Paul may have become the most famous apostles, James was in reality probably the most important after the death of Jesus. He was appointed as the head of the Jerusalem church, the mother church.

Among other things, Witherington goes head to head with the Catholic doctrine of Mary’s perpetual virginity. While the Bible lists several brothers of Jesus, Catholics maintain that Mary remained a virgin after Jesus was born, and many believe the listed “brothers” are really just cousins. This idea was promoted by St. Jerome. Witherington quotes John P. Meier, a leading Catholic New Testament scholar, as saying that if the James ossuary is authentic, it is probably the last nail in the coffin of Jerome’s view of the brothers of Jesus being cousins.

I’ve always enjoyed the writings of both these authors, and this book doesn’t disappoint.

//Today’s verse tells of John baptizing people in the river Jordan. This was done, according to Luke’s Gospel, so that they could repent and be forgiven of their sins.

This seems to imply that only a person aware of their sinful nature, and a believer in Christ, could be properly baptized. In other words, not an infant. Yet over the centuries, infant baptism became very popular.

Enter a man named John Smyth. In the year 1609, probably influenced by Anabaptist teaching, Smyth embraced the unpopular idea that only believers’ baptism was valid. He and his followers had experienced only infant baptism, and wanted to be baptized again as a believing adult. But there was a problem: No one among his followers were rightly baptized; none had been baptized as a believer. Could an unbaptized person baptize another person?

John Smyth took a chance, and “cast water on himself,” effectively baptizing himself. He, then, was able to baptize others.

A year later Smyth began to question whether or not he was legitimately baptized. By extension, that would mean his converts also were not legitimately baptized. He tried to join a group of Anabaptists, but he died before they accepted him.  But his followers, named the “Brothers of the Separation of the Second English Church in Amsterdam,” remained convinced of their legitimacy as Christians. Near London, they founded England’s first Baptist church … and the Baptist denomination was born.

Thus was born the Baptist church.

But Saul, the appointed king, didn’t seem to promote himself in this manner. Indeed, Saul’s reign appeared quite humble in many respects. Nor did David, who succeeded Saul. We don’t find Samuel’s prediction coming true until the generation after David: specifically, David’s third son Absalom, who usurped the throne from his father:

No longer can we consider this coincidence. The Bible writers were specifically referring to Samuel’s prediction in telling how the kingdom went sour after David is chased from the throne. But the worst was yet to come; more tomorrow.

When Pilate asked Jesus about truth, Jesus gave no answer. Maybe Jesus was an agnostic.

//In today’s verse, the women of Israel honor returning warriors David and King Saul with this little ditty. The hyperbole is obvious, meant to imply that David’s battle heroics far exceed even the magnificent warrior Saul.

How do we know it’s hyperbole? Well, the Philistine population at its height probably numbered about thirty thousand. If David slew tens of thousands (plural), and Saul thousands (again plural), then that’s at least 22,000 slain. Obviously, they could not have slain the majority of the Philistines; this is not meant to be a body count.

Instead, the Bible turns a phrase, meaning “aheckofalot.” You’ll find the same language in other places, not meant to be read literally there, either:

★★★★★

I’ve often said that every person should undergo two major overhauls in their belief system during their life, for their own spiritual growth. I look forward with great anticipation to my next spiritual revelation, but I know I’m not ready yet.

Poplin was ready. She embraced Jesus hook, line and sinker, to the point where she sometimes sounds naïve. Yet she has clearly located the worldview that works for her. Poplin is surely aware of this odd contrast, with naiveté and intellectual writing side by side, and makes no apology, as she titles her final chapter “What if Christianity were true?”

This book is her spiritual journey and studies, comparing four worldviews (material naturalism, secular humanism, pantheism, and monotheism) and concluding that the latter, Christianity in particular, is the higher truth. The fundamental concern here is whether one of these worldviews is actually true. While each worldview contains a partial truth, Christianity supersedes each and carries believers further, opening up deeper revelations. These revelations did not come all at once for Poplin; she reflects on twenty years of following Christ, including a stint in Calcutta with Mother Teresa.

Her approach to “proving” Christianity is not normative apologetics. It is measuring the benefits of each worldview in various ways, which is why the book so appealed to me. Which worldview leads to the healthiest morals? Which best fits scientific discovery? Which psychology is most beneficial? In examining such things, Poplin journeys from truth to Truth, a higher level, and concludes that Christianity carries a person far beyond the limited truths of its competitors. Christianity, and the Trinity, encompasses the true and reasonable principles of all three other worldviews and offers even more. We get science without naturalism, humanism without relativity, and the spiritual beyond the impersonal and individual. But the problem in “proving” such claims is that Christianity can only be comprehended in a shallow, textbook way, until it is lived.

Here is an example. When Poplin converted to Christianity, she became deeply remorseful over two abortions she had had. Until her conversion, the healthiest option she could come up with to live with herself was to deny her sin, pretending that sin didn’t really exist, moralizing that by aborting she had made the logical, secular decision. After her conversion, she writes “Now I see that the solution to sin—the simple acknowledgement of sin for what it is and seeking God’s forgiveness and cleansing—is one of the most brilliant, hopeful and freeing principles of Judeo-Christianity.” The higher truth: Life is better as a Christian, and our eyes are opened.

The superscription above many of the psalms, le-David, however, probably does not ascribe authorship. It doesn’t anywhere else in the Bible. More likely, it means “to David,” or “for David,” or perhaps “about David.” The book of Psalms seems to be comprised of several song collections, one or more of which are written in the tradition of David. For example, Psalm 72 concludes with the words “End of the prayers of David son of Jesse,” though this is hardly the end of the Davidic Psalms; they pick up again with Psalm 86. Also curious is the existence of two Psalms–14 and 53–which are virtually identical, so the same Psalm was surely included in more than one collection.

More problematic to the idea of Davidic authorship is the existence of psalms which describe events after the death of David. I counted seven psalms which speak of the Temple. Others describe the destruction of Babylon, which occurred four centuries after David. And, of course, there’s psalm 137 about Babylonian exile: “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept when we remembered Zion.”

However, the Chronicles repeatly claim that David instituted the praise of God through song in the sanctuary. It is very possible that David and his musicians began the process of collecting hymns of praise to God, a process which continued for several hundred years ascribed to the tradition of David. Thus did the tradition evolve of Davidic authorship, similar to the way Moses is traditionally thought to be the author of the Torah.