Monday, May 16, 2016

Doom and Hope

We've gotten a look at the whole of chapter 1 of Hosea, except for verse seven. Here it is:
But I will love the house of Judah, and I will save them by YHWH their God, and I will not save them by bow, or by sword, or by battle, by horses, or by horsemen.
Can you guess why we've left this until last? It's because it's out of context, in its way. It doesn't fit with the rest of the chapter. There are some links to the rest of Hosea, to be sure; the "love" in the beginning of the verse is "arachem" in Hebrew, and you can see in it the "R-CH-M" pattern we talked about last time in the name "Lo-Ruchamah." And Hans Walter Wolff, the great German commentator on the twelve minor prophets, says that the second half of the verse is full of words, "bow, sword, battle, horses, horsemen," that are part of Hosea's vocabulary in the rest of the book. But the tone of verse seven is remarkably different than the rest of the chapter.


One of the ongoing scholarly debates about the prophets is whether they were "prophets of hope" or "prophets of doom." Do they proclaim God's judgment against his people, or do they ultimately promise good news and salvation? You'd think such a fundamental question would have a pretty obvious answer, but the battle rages on. Even in my own seminary education, I had one professor (Dr. Klaus Peter Adam) who insisted that there was a lot more doom among the prophets than hope, while another professor (Dr. Ralph Klein) suggested that a prophet who doesn't proclaim hope is not, in fact, a prophet, but is merely a troublemaker. In my opinion, both are exactly right.

The thrust of the first chapter of Hosea's prophecy is that Israel has turned away from God and begun worshiping other idols, like a prostitute has sex with people other than her own husband. God is behaving like a jilted lover. He is angry, and he has decided to cast off his love. First the royal house of Israel is denounced, then the whole of the nation. Hosea's prophecy is bad news.

And yet, as we continue to read through the book of Hosea, we'll see a reversal of God's judgment. It will get worse before it gets better, but it will get better.

Kingdoms of Israel and Judah map 830
Here, though, we get one little verse of good news in the middle of bad. Good news perhaps belongs later in the book of Hosea, but not here. Stranger than that, the prophet speaks throughout chapter one of the kingdom of Israel, the northern kingdom. But verse seven is directed at the kingdom of Judah, the south. The third hint--though one I can't speak to in detail due to lack of personal knowledge--is that God usually speaks in poetic language in the prophets, but this verse is marked in most editions of the Hebrew Bible as prose. As one more bit of evidence, the naming of Hosea's children Jezreel and Lo-Ammi don't have an additional bit of exposition like this; only Lo-Ruchamah does. In at least four ways, the verse doesn't belong to all the verses around it.


The simplest explanation, and probably the accurate one, is that this verse was added in later. Hosea wouldn't have been interested in Judah; he was a prophet of Israel. But our Bible is the legacy of Judah. When Israel was destroyed in 720 BCE, all of the religious writings of the northern kingdom disappeared--except for a few which had passed into and were preserved by the southern kingdom. Somehow, Hosea's words had been saved from the capture and destruction by the Assyrians. It's easy to imagine a Judahite copyist (or even prophet) picking up Hosea's words, seeing the prophecy that God will withdraw from the northern kingdom, and feeling uncomfortable enough with those words that he felt compelled to add a sentence about the salvation of the southern kingdom.

And perhaps, just perhaps, these words were added to Hosea's prophecy as the southern kingdom looked out at the Babylonian armies surrounding them in the 590's, worried about what might happen next. Would they be destroyed, like Israel was?

Imagine that in detail. The Babylonians, standing at Jerusalem's gate, were a formidable army. The Judean army was rather paltry in comparison. The king is panicked, and even goes as far as to ask their great old enemy, the Egyptians, for help. It never comes. What are they to do?

And the 6th century prophet, picking up the old words of long-gone 8th century Hosea, says this: "We won't be saved by bow or sword or battle or horses or cavalry. We will be saved by God."

And tradition tells us that the nation trusted in the Egyptians to come to their aid, instead. And were therefore captured and carted off into exile. God did not save them.

Whose fault was it? God's, whose promise in Hosea 1:7 didn't come true? Or Judah's, for not trusting God's promise in the first place, preventing it from coming true?

Or might we still hear that promise being fulfilled, even today, as God finds ways to continue to "arachem," to love us, in the midst of the destruction that we create, in the midst of our attempts to trust in things other than God, in the midst of our failure to trust the promises God has made with us? Maybe this verse belongs here after all. Maybe, in the middle of God's judgment, God still promises that his love for us will not let us go.

Questions for Thought:

1) From what you know of Hebrew prophecy, what do you think? Do the prophets speak doom, or hope? Why?

2) How do we deal with a Bible that seems to have changed from one generation to the next in its very beginnings? With a Bible that can have "additions" to the words of the prophets, things that didn't belong to the prophets themselves but were tucked in by a copyist later? What theological problems does that raise? What theological possibilities does that allow?

3) What happens when a prophet's words don't come true?

2 comments:

  1. 1) Looking at it from a post-Resurrection perspective, it's easy to see hope in any prophecy. No matter what our circumstance, the promise of Salvation and eternal life in Christ gives us a certain hope, secured by God. With this as the backdrop, any prophecy of doom must necessarily fall short of God's full grace. We know that at our lowest points, even when driven by the scorn of God himself, we are not separated from his love for us. That contrast with proclamations of doom amplifies the restoring power of hope. In this way prophets can be seen as referencing hope when proclaiming doom. In their day, however, they may have had a harder time seeing it this way. There was plenty of history showing how God fulfilled his promises to his people, and was merciful to them.

    2) I trust that the things 'added' were done with the same discernment and oversight that brought the original words of the prophets to us. It's interesting that we can identify these passages today and fun to talk about them, but I personally don't worry about whether it creates a theological conundrum. If we're intent on pursuing God's word for us, we'll see his meaning emerge and be supported by multiple places in scripture. It's not usual for that meaning to be expressed solely in the turn of a phrase in a single verse.

    What's curious is that we're not seeing any more additions to the Bible today. There are multiple bible canons, but these are different pickings from the same ancient writings. The Reformation changed theology, but still no new scriptural writings. What would new writings even look like? Would they come from a Joseph Smith or Mary Baker Eddy?

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    1. 1) Nice, Mark. Wise thoughts grounded in the Christian witness to Jesus Christ! You're quite right; in light of the resurrection, even the most disastrous prophecy of doom ultimately ends in hope. And that's certainly true for Hosea; you can sense in him a constant tug of war between the doom he has to declare and the hope that he can't help but offer.

      2) In one sense, you're right that we are not seeing additions to the Bible today. The canon of scripture has been set, and was firmly set by the Council of Nicea in the 300s. A few ancient works--all of which are Old Testament literature, strangely--are contested by varying Christian groups. But overall, the matter is settled.

      In recent times, some scholars (Elaine Pagels is the best known of them) have brought some alternative ancient works to the table. The so-called Gnostic Gospels include documents like the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Mary Magdeline, the Gospel of Judas (only reconstructed in 2006!), and so on. These were known in the first few centuries of the Church, and they were rejected for a reason (different reasons for different books). But they just keep coming back. Some people read them for spiritual edification. But they don't really fit with orthodox Christianity.

      On the other hand, there were early Christian documents, clearly in line with orthodoxy, that got left out, documents like the Shepherd of Hermas, or the First Letter of Clement. They're studied as central to the Christian witness. But not quite as central as the Bible.

      More modern witnesses, though, also keep being added by various groups to the canon of scripture. You're quite right, Mark. Joseph Smith's work added to the canon for Mormons, Mary Baker Eddy was identified as a prophet among Christian Scientists, Ellen G. White for Adventists, and so on.

      In a way, we Lutherans have our own. The Augsburg Confession, along with its Apology, the Smalcald Articles, the Treatise on the Power and Primacy of the Pope, the Large and Small Catechisms of Martin Luther, and both the Epitiome and the Solid Declaration of the Formula of Concord, are documents that Lutherans identify as authentic witnesses to the Gospel. Some Lutheran sects treat them as if they, themselves, were scripture. Others, like us in the ELCA, seem them more as a lens through which we read scripture. In either case, though, they certainly modify the canon in some way. My Lutheran Confessions teacher called the Bible, "The only normative source of faith," and then described these Lutheran documents as "the norming norm."

      In any case, we clearly understand that God continues to inspire and inform us today--and perhaps as much as he ever did. The real difference between the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Andrew Lloyd Webber (Jesus Christ Superstar), or between the letters of Paul and C.S. Lewis's Screwtape Letters, is that only one of the two has been affirmed as useful and authoritative by 2,000 years worth of Christians in all parts of the globe. Which makes me wonder, exactly how much of a difference is that after all?

      It also makes me wonder what books you might add to your personal "canon of scripture?"

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