Book #6 In The Beginning - Henri Blocher

         I’ve been particularly interested in the opening chapters of Genesis, because there is so much contention about it; and as Blocher puts it ‘the beginning unlocks the principle, the constitution reveals the nature. The human race quite rightly feels that it cannot find its bearings for life today without having light shed on its origins’ (p. 15). This book (ISBN: 9780851113210) is an attempt to examine carefully the first few chapters of the book of Genesis. I think Blocher has done a fine job in highlighting certain aspects of the texts and he comes to some good conclusions of which I will attempt to share a few.

          Firstly, the creation accounts shouldn’t be read literally. Chapters 1 and 2 argue for an appreciation of the literary genre of the chapters and Blocher adopts the ‘historico-artistic’ interpretation of the week of creation (p. 49). The text doesn’t warrant a literal reading, but this doesn’t mean we are compromising to the pressures of science. The author of the creation accounts had a message to share, and that was certainly not to establish scientific facts. Furthermore, Blocher suggests that a ‘form-filling’ understanding of the creation week is probably the most faithful interpretation of the stories. Also, the emphasis of the author is in the orderliness and aesthetic goodness of God’s creation.

          Secondly, what is traditionally called ‘the Fall’ is perhaps better understood as ‘the breaking of the covenant.’ It does not revolutionise our understanding of Genesis 3. But it does help us to be aware that no one approaches the Biblical text without presuppositions. Blocher argues that this event is historical, but the Biblical author has no qualms in using figurative (or symbolic) language in his narration. We need not take ‘historical’ to mean ‘literal.’ Nevertheless, he argues that we must affirm that there was indeed a historical man called Adam (although the Hebrew wordplay allows the convincing argument that the chapter describes the human condition, rather than explain its origins). This warrant is found in the New Testament treatment of Adam, especially in Paul’s writing. Thus, Genesis 3 does try to narrate how sin originated in the world. Blocher argues that God is not the creator of evil, but doesn’t necessarily locate its origin. Scholars like Westermann and Moberly would argue that the reticence of the text hints that the question of origin is probably one we should avoid. Nevertheless, Blocher interprets the snake as a symbol of Satan, citing other Biblical usages as the warrant for such a reading.

          Thirdly, Blocher does argue that Genesis 3:15 is the ‘protoevangelium’ – in other words, the prototype of the Gospel message. He places emphasis on the curse as being a long and extended warfare that ultimately ends in the triumph of the woman’s offspring over the snake’s offspring. This is probably the safe Evangelical understanding of the curse. Although many scholars do argue that this reading is difficult to locate within the context, Blocher draws from other parts of Scripture to support his assertion. For Blocher, and many Evangelicals, the punishments God pronounces on Adam, Eve and the snake are not merely bad news. There is also good news, for instance when God clothes Adam and Eve with garments of skins.

Evangelicals find the ultimate fulfilment of God’s grace and mercy - where sin abounded as evinced in the chapters following Genesis 3 – in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is not outrageous for one to come to this conclusion and I dearly hold onto this understanding of the opening chapters of Genesis although my mind is torn between this interpretation and the very convincing arguments of Biblical (and less traditionally-Evangelical) scholars. It sometimes does seem like a battle between faith and the intellect. I’m attempting to reconcile this dichotomy within myself but sometimes end up more confused.

The opening chapters of Genesis is full of literary and theological riches, but if I’m not careful, I might be swimming in waters too deep. Perhaps this is why I often hear about Christians losing their faith after being exposed to academic theology. In churches and families, we certainly need a more robust theology that will help Christians cope (for overcoming is really difficult) with the challenges to our understanding of Scripture that the outside world offer. I have learnt from reading Blocher’s book a lot about God’s character; but I have also learnt that a simplistic faith, that ignores the importance of grappling with the Biblical text does more harm than good. I’d rather be marvelling at the Bible than be illusorily (like Adam and Eve) thinking that I’ve got the important things about the Bible and life sorted out. 

Poem #4 Bitter-sweet - George Herbert

          Ah my dear angry Lord,

          Since thou dost love, yet strike;

          Cast down, yet help afford;

          Sure I will do the like.

          I will complain, yet praise;

          I will bewail, approve:

          And all my sour-sweet days

          I will lament, and love.

Living as a Christian is difficult because there is suffering when we serve, regardless of its shape or size. And if we are honest, I do not think most people enjoy pain. True, if we look past the temporality of anguish, disappointment and loneliness, there is a reason, there is the hope of the resurrection where everything will be made right. However, it sometimes seems so far away. And when I consider the sins I struggle with daily; when I consider the lack of passion in my evangelism, a little corner of my heart cries in despair – wanting all this to end – because the call to give my life in service to the Gospel and to others is a burden greater than I can bear.

          Yet, maybe that is the plot set out for me: that I do not find belonging nor acceptance; that I silently plough fields, not staying long enough to see the harvest before I have to move on. Well, if that is my lot, so be it then. It is not an inconsistency in God’s character to assign me this road. Herbert sustains a tension between ease and discomfort throughout the poem; in almost every line there is a clash seemingly opposite actions or characteristics. So I do pray that like the persona in Herbert’s poem, ‘I will lament, and love’ ‘all my sour-sweet days.’

           Though the outside world will not hear the silent sobs of disheartened hearts, our God listens; and though he strikes, He loves and reveals that love through the death of His Son on a wooden Cross. 

FOMO?

         When I see some of the activities my friends (or acquaintances) are involved in, especially those concerning social issues, I am often confronted with a sense of FOMO (fear of missing out). I am unsure whether this is a genuine sense of wanting to be involved in social work or just that doing these kinds of activities can be considered glamorous. I know my heart and I do not think selfishly desiring to serve others is beyond its depravity.

          For instance, the other big church (in terms of size and activities) in Durham is conducting a ‘June Project’ where students who have finished their exams are engaged in lots of communal work; whereas in the church I am attending, we only have a ‘Bible Week’ organised where we look at how the Bible fits together. Although I acknowledge that the choice between doing social work and studying the Bible is a false dichotomy, I cannot help but feel that by not engaging in active work that makes a visible difference, I might not be sufficiently engaging with the world.

          Sometimes I wonder if I have become too obsessed with studying the Bible and getting the ‘right’ interpretation that I unconsciously distance myself from the world. This is something I urgently need to think about.

          This article (http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/four-ways-to-fight-the-fear-of-missing-out) has been somewhat helpful although it does not address my particular fear, but it is encouraging to be reminded that satisfaction and a sense of fulfilment should not come from personal achievement in whatever form. 

Book #5 Oedipus Rex

          After a gap of 3 months, I have finally run out of excuses to put off updating this blog, although not many people read it. I guess the practice of thinking and then formulating them into structured sentences is still a helpful exercise to keep one’s mind alert and organised – otherwise my brain becomes a jumbled nexus of ideas with no beginning or end.

          In light of this needing one’s mind to be clear and able to process and organise information, I thought that I could write about a recent book I read and studied for my exams – Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex (ISBN: 9780140444254). The play is based on the mythic tradition of Oedipus, who is prophesied to kill his father and commit incest with his mother. The play seems a straightforward process of self-revelation whereby Oedipus gradually finds out his origins, thus confirming that he has indeed fulfilled the prophecy of the Oracle at Delphi. I have to say that in writing this, I am assuming a basic understanding of the Oedipus myth.

          However, some scholars have suggested that in Sophocles’ treatment of the myth, we cannot take it for granted that he is merely adhering to the established facts of the myth, after all, there are other contemporary playwrights who change certain details of the story. An example would be Frederick Ahl’s thesis (ISBN: 9780801425585). He suggests that in fact, Oedipus is misled into believing that he has indeed fulfilled the prophecy when there is a glaring lack of substantial evidence to support his self-accusation. The warrant for such an unconventional reading is that these scholars have the mythic tradition in mind, but do not let that tradition override the actual play. Thus, in Ahl’s analysis, he considers the original Greek and shows that Sophocles has expertly used wordplays and ambiguities of speech to dramatise a story of Oedipus’ self-deception. I cannot go into further details about Ahl’s thesis, but it is quite convincing, at least for me. What I want to consider are some thoughts that reading Ahl’s argument and rereading the play have struck me.

  

          Firstly, speech is power. The ability to manipulate language and people’s emotions with the words we say give an individual so much power and authority over others who are less articulate. If we consider Oedipus as a play of language where characters are engaged in a contest of speech, then we begin to grasp the significance of Oedipus’ fall from greatness. But why do we say speech is power? It is because characters in the play have successfully (whether intentionally or otherwise) given Oedipus wrong information or vague information; and it is Oedipus’ inability to distinguish between trustworthy and untrustworthy sources that leads him to misinterpret facts.

          This leads to the issue of asking questions. I know it might seem trivial but I have begun to see how asking the right questions is crucial if we want to make right judgments. An example within the play is the question of the number of King Laius’ murderers (King Laius’ is the supposed father of Oedipus). Reports say that a gang of people killed the king and his entourage. But Oedipus insists that he killed an old man and all of the members of his party, and Oedipus acknowledges that this is probably the most crucial information that will confirm either his innocence or his guilt. However, when he meets with the supposed survivor of that incident, he fails to ask this most important question. He was distracted by the question of his birth and origins that he has forgotten the real issues at stake. This is another reason why we can affirm that Oedipus is wholly responsible for his tragedy – his inability to keep his head in a time of crisis.

          Thirdly and finally, be careful when speaking to masters of rhetoric. In our modern society, they would be the lawyers, the politicians and maybe the salesman. If speech is power and that the ability to ask right questions is a sign of discernment, then we must be careful when encountering people who derive their power and authority from the words they say, or more importantly, words they do not say. Silence and the lack of reliable information led to Oedipus’ misrepresentation of reality, let us not follow in his footsteps.

          The tragedy of Oedipus is then his blindness – his inability to distinguish truth from half-truth. The catharsis of the play is not Freud’s suggestion that he has fulfilled the Oedipal complex all of us dream about, but that we need to see what Oedipus fails to see. If we are unable to see past the web of lies Oedipus surrounds himself with, his tragedy becomes ours.

          Nevertheless, thankfully, God has revealed Himself to us in the form of His Son and He has spoken definitively that we are not left with half-truths about reality (Hebrews 1:1-3). Let us then be people who ask the right questions and be not swayed by false rhetoric.