The interpretation of scripture is not simply an erudite exercise, but may well influence world events. Today many evangelical Christians are reading the promise in Revelation of the end of the world as justifying actions in the Middle East, including the displacement of Palestinians by Jews in the land known biblically as ancient Israel, which would lead to a great conflagration.

Also, Jews are about to recite at Passover a passage from the Psalms, which appeals to God to: "Pour out your wrath on the nations that did not know you, that did not recognize your name; for they have destroyed and laid waste to Judah and Israel." Jewish settlers in Israel will likely read this text literally, as justifying the condemnation of Gentile nations and also the expulsion (and present persecution) of Palestinians living on the land that God gave to the chosen people.

I was privileged while in Jerusalem to hear an Orthodox Jew, Rabbi David Rosen, discuss how within the Orthodox tradition this passage from the Psalms, which is read every Passover, might be understood as an appeal to God to transform, rather than destroy, the obdurate peoples of the world. Moreover, I think his insights into the Jewish tradition, and its struggle to respect the understanding of the past, but also to face the truth about God in our own time, may help Christians read more creatively, as well as respectfully, some of the difficult texts in our own tradition.

Rabbi Rosen began to consider this difficult text from Psalms by looking at a passage in the Babylonian Talmud that, at first glance, seems unrelated. The Talmud asks why ancient sages were considered men of the great tradition. The answer given is that they restored God’s glory to its former luster.

How did they do this? Well, they resolved an ancient dilemma concerning the prophets Jeremiah and Daniel, for each had altered a statement in the Torah, which praises God as great, and mighty, and awesome. (Deuteronomy 10:17) Jeremiah had said only that God was great and mighty, and Daniel only that God was great. How could these prophets detract from the very revelation of God given to Moses, as recorded in the Torah? That was the dilemma.

The answer given almost two thousand years ago by these Jewish sages often eludes us today. They understood that a text from scripture must be read in its historical context.

What was the historical context of Jeremiah? The first temple had been destroyed, and heathen were cavorting where it once stood. To be faithful to the truth, in the face of the defeat of God’s people, the prophet Jeremiah no longer could say God was awesome, but only great and mighty.

Similarly, Daniel was writing from exile, when the chosen people were suffering persecution under a heathen king. The facts of his time were bitter, but could not be dismissed. To be faithful to the truth of his context, Daniel wrote simply that God was great, omitting the attributes in the Torah that praised God for also being mighty and awesome.

But, the Talmud says, Jeremiah and Daniel were not detracting from the truth about God, or from the truth revealed in the Torah.

Each prophet understood that by allowing the enemies of the chosen people to exercise their free will on earth in history, God was revealing his glory in a new powerful and awesome way. This insight into God’s freedom, and into our human freedom, required a change in language. Therefore, the ancient men who understood this found in the new phrases of both prophets, not the absence of what is revealed in the Torah, but a transformation of God’s might and luster, as now revealed in the continuing survival of the chosen people among their enemies.

"How could Jeremiah and Daniel uproot an instituted text from the Torah, the word of God?" Rabbi Rosen asks. "Because they know that God is truth. Therefore, they cannot say something about God that is false. Here the Talmud, amazingly, is affirming individual autonomy. Of course, Orthodox rabbis would say, not everyone is a Jeremiah or a Daniel. Nevertheless, what the men of the great tradition recognized is that an individual, who is religiously sensible, cannot say something about God that he or she knows to be false."

Therefore, Rabbi Rosen argues, we must understand every passage in scripture in a way that reflects our perception of the truth of the divine reality. The "men of the great tradition" saw this, which is why they were given such a magnificent title, for they understood that Jeremiah and Daniel were affirming the truth of God that was revealed in their own historical context.

We may, therefore, apply this insight to the text from the Psalms for Passover, by asking in our time what speaking the truth requires us to say about this difficult text. In other words, in our contemporary context how might we understand the truth of this ancient prayer: "Pour out your wrath on the nations that did not know you, that did not recognize your name; for they have destroyed and laid waste to Judah and Israel."

Rabbi Rosen suggests that a clue may be found in the story of the wife of Rabbi Meyer. Because the rabbi was suffering from the taunts of a few young people, he prayed to God to get rid of these tormentors. But his wife, who overheard him, says he is wrong to ask this of to God. She reminds him of the text from Psalm 119 that says. "Let sins be eliminated from the earth, and the wicked shall be no more." This text from scripture is not asserting that "sinners" should be eliminated from the earth. It is only appealing to God for help in ending sins on earth. "What you must pray for," she tells her husband, "is the repentance of these young people, so they may become good and respectful adults."

The lesson we may draw from this story is that the truth of God, and of scripture, requires us to seek the transformation, rather than the condemnation, of those doing evil in our world.

And that is why Rabbi Rosen now replaces the word "wrath" in the Passover text from the Psalms with the divine attribute of "compassion," so the reading now calls on God to bring the nations to repentance. "Pour out your compassion on the nations that did not know you, that did not recognize your name," so they might discern, as have the chosen people, the word of God.

In Hebrew the words translated as "wrath" and "compassion" vary in only one letter. But more importantly, we are commanded by both God and scripture to read our ancient texts truthfully in the context of our own time. "We know the God of truth today," Rabbi Rosen affirms, "if we may be so bold as to say that we know God truthfully at all, as the transforming power working both through human freedom and works of divinely inspired compassion."

Rabbi Rosen sees the call by Jesus in the New Testament to "love your enemies" as recognizing this same insight, in his context, and so as reflecting a strong tradition within Judaism, even if that tradition did not become dominant in the first century of the Christian era. Today, however, given the many meanings of the word "love," Rabbi Rosen prefers to use the word "compassion" rather than "love" to express to the truth about God revealed both by the texts of scripture and the context of our time.

He would agree fully with Paul’s reference in Romans 12:20 to Proverbs 25:21-22, which reads: "If your enemies are hungry, give them bread to eat; and if they are thirsty, give them water to drink; for you will heap coals of fire on their heads." Giving food and drink are acts of compassion, and the metaphor of "coals of fire on their heads" may be understood as the wrath of shame and guilt, which our enemies will experience because of our compassion.

Like Jesus, at least in these teachings, Paul reveals he has learned how to read texts truthfully in his own historical context. "Do not be overcome by evil," Paul says, drawing on a long tradition of Jewish insight into texts and contexts. "But overcome evil with good." (Romans 12:21)

Jewish insights from the Talmud may guide us in reading the New Testament. For all its books were written by inspired Jews, who were reading the scriptures of the past and restating the truth of God’s divine reality, as best they understood it, in and for their own time.

Near the end of the first century, after the Jewish revolt had failed and the conquering Roman armies had destroyed the temple in Jerusalem, it seemed that the end of the world was near. The Revelation to John found at the end of the New Testament reflects this historical context, as it proclaims hope in God for those who feared their lives would soon be cut short.

After the defeat of the Jewish revolt in 70 CE, Jewish Christians expected persecution by Romans, who would likely see them as indistinguishable from Jews. After all, the Roman governor of Jerusalem had executed their teacher as a rebel. Yet, these first Christians knew they were not simply propagating the Jewish tradition of the past. Therefore, they sought to be truthful to their own context by writing gospels that pointed out their differences with Jews.

Tragically, in doing so, their gospel accounts not only included teachings about obeying the Roman authorities, but also, blamed Jews for the death of Jesus. In order to show that Jesus was not a threat to Rome, he was depicted as a victim of a Jewish conspiracy.

In the gospel of Matthew, Jesus is quoted as saying, like a good Jew, "Do not think that I have come to abolish the law [of Moses] or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill." (5:17) But this same gospel includes a difficult text for contemporary Christians, which we have just read at Easter. When Jesus is before Pilate, in the gospel narrative, Pilate washes his hands and says to the crowd of Jews: "I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves." With chilling words, bearing horrific implications for history, the text continues: "Then the people as a whole answered, ‘His blood be on us and on our children!’" (Matthew 27:25)

No crowd could actually speak with one voice, and no person can seriously believe that first century Jews, or any crowd of Jews, would have cursed themselves and their descendents.

Instead, we must see that this text expresses the fear of Jewish Christians. They are calling for the wrath of God, but not for this wrath to fall upon the nations, as the Roman Empire of nations is their home. Rather, the Christians call for God’s wrath to be visited upon the Jewish people. For they believe that Jews have put their desire for national sovereignty and independence above the reign of God over all the nations, which was affirmed by the ancient prophets of Israel.

The truth of their historical context, these Jewish Christians believe, is the end of the Jewish revolt, the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, and the triumph of imperial Rome over the civilized world known to them. Therefore, they believe this is God’s truth, and not the victory of heathens over the God of Israel. Ironically, history will prove them right, for by the fourth century the Jewish tradition as transformed by the church will win over pagan Roman culture.

The truth about God in the first century was not that Jews should be blamed for the death of Jesus, or that the world was coming to an end, as the New Testament gospels and the Revelation to John seem to say, if read literally. Like the men of the great tradition, we must discern the truth about God not only in ancient texts, but also in historical contexts. Our truth will be found in the freedom of peoples to change and in the religious traditions that survive the turmoil of history.

Today, we must look for the truth of God in the continuing life of the Jewish people, as well as in the Christian churches that have dominated western history. We must also seek to know the truth expressed through in the resurgence of Islam in our time. Christians are not the only survivors in our historical context, but also Jews who now have power over a nation. Moreover, Muslims clearly have a growing appeal not only to Arab peoples, but also to that many nations that are oppressed by the rapacious, global power of our western culture.

Christians may hope that Jews will read their difficult texts in a way that appeals to God for compassion upon nations, which now act as if they know not the divine call to justice and mercy. But Christians must also read the difficult passages in their scriptures with a similar commitment to God’s truth in this time, as in every time.

This may well be the end of an era, but God does not will the end of life on earth. Instead, we know from our texts and historical contexts that the God of freedom longs for a world in which compassion is not only a divine reality, but also the animating spirit of the human family. Our challenge, therefore, is to build a world that reflects the truth we know. The God, who is great, and almighty, and awesome, is now guiding us, in our freedom, to respect the diverse traditions of all the nations by sharing, in peace, the wondrous gifts of human life.

I am writing as a participant in the Ecumenical Accompaniment Program in Palestine and Israel, which is sponsored by the World Council of Churches. The views expressed above are my own and do not necessarily represent the World Council of Churches. If you wish to publish or disseminate this letter beyond personal friends, please contact the EAPPI Communications Officer (eappi-co@jrol.com) for permission to do so. Thank you.

Bob Traer, 12 April 2005

For other Letters from Jerusalem, go to http://christian-bible.com/Ethics/lj.letters.2005.htm.

Home   Exegesis   Scripture   Worship   Ethics   Dialogue   Parables   Email   

1 in Faith: A Christian Bible Study † Copyright © 2000 by Robert Traer