Don’t mess with our Messiah.

The second psalm in our bibles, Lammá ragšú goyím/“For what reason rage the nations?” (Latin, Quare fremuerunt gentes) is considered a Messianic psalm ’cause it’s about Israel’s king, and one of the king’s titles is of course Messiah. And it’s considered a Messianic prophecy ’cause Jesus is Messiah, so Christians are gonna look for ways in which it gets fulfilled in the present day—kinda like the apostles did when they quoted it.

Acts 4.23-28 NET

23 When they were released, Peter and John went to their fellow believers and reported everything the high priests and the elders had said to them. 24 When they heard this, they raised their voices to God with one mind and said, “Master of all, you who made the heaven, the earth, the sea, and everything that is in them, 25 who said by the Holy Spirit through your servant David our forefather,

‘Why do the nations rage,

and the peoples plot foolish things?

26 The kings of the earth stood together,

and the rulers assembled together,

against the Lord and against his Christ.’ Ps 2.1-2

27 “For indeed both Herod and Pontius Pilate, with the Gentiles and the people of Israel, assembled together in this city against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed, 28 to do as much as your power and your plan had decided beforehand would happen.”

After all, if the psalmist (who’s not identified, though you notice the apostles figured it was David) was speaking of Herod, Pilate, and the head priests conspiring against Jesus, it sure does look like the first lines of this psalm.

Why was it composed? We figure it’s for coronations. When a new king was anointed, they’d sing this. The first book in Psalms appears to be from the kingdom of southern Israel (“Judah”), so likely it was sung by and to the kings of Jerusalem. The original doesn’t rhyme or have meter, but I rendered it in trochaic heptameter anyway.

Psalm 2 KWL

1 For what reason is the uproar of the nations?

Or the people found in useless meditations?

2 Kings of earth and rulers take a stand, consulting

on the LORD and his Messiah—thus resulting

3 in, “Let’s tear their chains off; throw away their bindings.”

4 Seated in the heavens, my Lord mocks their findings.

5 Then he speaks, with nostrils flaring, to their hubris.

In his burning rage he terrifies them senseless.

6 “On my holy Zion hill, I poured out my king.”

7 Let me now instruct you on the LORD God’s ruling.

“You’re my son,” he told me, “on this day I birthed you.

8 Ask me and I grant the wealth of nations to you.

Your inheritance extends to earth’s horizon.

9 Shatter with your iron staff; like jars you’ll break them.”

10 Now kings, think it through. Earth’s judges, heed this warning.

11 Serve the LORD in fear. Rejoice, but do it trembling.

12 Kiss the son lest he destroy your path in anger.

Small things make him burn. Bless all who seek his shelter.

Getting baptized.

My nieces got baptized last month. Part of their church’s vacation bible school (if you’re not familiar with the phenomenon, it’s a weeklong church program meant to evangelize kids) to of course to get kids to choose Jesus. And of course after such decisions naturally comes baptism.

The girls had chosen to follow Jesus some time before. But one of the things about the Evangelical subculture—kind of a peeve of mine—is how it can sometimes takes years before new Christians finally bother to get baptized. We’re meant to do one right after the other, ’cause we’re supposed to make a solid mental connection between the two. Get saved, get baptized, ’cause baptism represents salvation. But many Evangelicals turn the sinner’s prayer into that thing we’re meant to mentally connect to salvation: “Did you ask Jesus into your heart? Okay, you’re saved.” Hence baptism becomes way less of a priority. Once you’ve confessed Christ, evangelists tell you to get plugged into a church, to read your bible, maybe attend a bible study; it’s not so often “Let’s get you baptized.” They do want you to get around to it someday, as a nice way to publicly declare your faith. But Evangelicals often figure it can wait. And the wait can turn into a long time.

For me there was a three-year gap between when I became Christian in 1975, and when I finally got baptized in 1978. Partly ’cause I had been baptized already.

See, my mom’s parents were Roman Catholic. Mom was lapsed and Dad was atheist, but the grandparents insisted I be baptized. Otherwise if I died unexpectedly, I’d go to limbo.

No, this has nothing to do with the under-the-bar dance, which is named for how limber you have to be to participate. Supposedly limbo is a state which is neither heaven nor hell; it’s on the limbus/“border,” hence the name. It’s a popular myth in Catholicism; few other Christians believe in it.

And not even all Catholics. The official teaching of Catholicism is grace: When unbaptized babies die, all things being equal, God graciously takes ’em to heaven. But limbo’s the unofficial teaching, and old-timey Catholics grew up hearing horror stories of parents who never baptized their babies, and now the kids are in limbo, if not burning in hell.

I should mention: I read Dante’s Inferno. According to him, limbo’s the first circle of hell. The nice part of hell, if any part of hell can be said to be nice. In it are all the pagans you kinda thought should go to heaven, but since they didn’t care for Jesus (or didn’t know about him; Dante was kinda unforgiving that way), they didn’t. So they spend eternity not in heaven, kinda bummed about their bad fortune. And apparently they get squalling unbaptized babies dumped on them on the regular. Maybe that’s what makes it hell.

Regardless, the grandparents wanted me baptized. So Mom shrugged and let ’em get me baptized.

This is why I’ve joked ever since that I’m Catholic. But a really lousy Catholic, ’cause I keep going to Protestant churches. Still, I’m just as Catholic as my so-called “Catholic” friends and acquaintances who never got confirmed, never go to Mass, and figure baptism means God’s gotta grant ’em heaven. Not wise to take God’s grace for granted like that, but they do.

Blasphemy: Slandering God’s character.

BLASPHEME blæs'fim verb. Say something about God (or holy things) which isn’t true. Slander.

2. Speak irreverently about God or holy things. Sacrilege.

[Blasphemer blæs'fim.ər noun, blasphemous 'blæs.fə.məs adjective, blasphemy 'blæs.fə.mi noun.]

That second definition tends to be how popular culture defines blasphemy: Means the same thing as sacrilege, when one treats the sacred profanely. When you make fun, or make light, of holy things. When we tell jokes about God, or treat our bibles like any other book, and set ’em on the floor or doodle in them for fun. When people take God’s name in vain. When I treat him like my dad instead of OUR FATHER WHICH ART IN HEAVEN. (Heck, when I don’t capitalize all the Almighty’s pronouns.)

That’s what people consider blasphemy. That’s why they go utterly ape when Christians won’t take off our hats in church, or wear jeans. Business attire only!—and only Jesus gets to wear a toga.

By this definition, I commit blasphemy a lot. More than one Christian has got their knickers in a knot over my titling this blog Christ Almighty! To them, Christ Jesus is holy, and anything which makes our king sound too familiar is lèse-majesté.

Y’might not know that term. It comes in handy. It’s French for “less majestic”—it’s when people don’t treat the king with the dignity he merits. (Or, more accurately, imagines he merits; I’m an American and the only king I respect is Jesus. The rest, whether they know it or not, are usurpers of his title.) Lèse-majesté is the invention of petty, insecure despots, who wanted everyone to suck up to them under pain of death. Esther slammed into it when she had to petition the shah of Persia for her people, but if she showed up unannounced the shah could interpret it as an insult. Es 4.11 Good thing he thought she was hot.

The reason Christians keep propping up lèse-majesté as their definition of blasphemy, is because there’s a bit of despotism in them. It’s not that God’s insulted or offended when his kids boldly approach the throne of grace. He 4.16 He has a thick skin—and a sense of humor. It’s these Christians who don’t. They take offense because deep down they wanna be treated with rarified respect, and if that’s how we’ve gotta be with God, it makes it all the easier for them to suggest maybe we oughta treat them, “the Lord’s anointed,” with similar respect.

Hence they attempt to enforce divisions and ranks and barriers in God’s kingdom—all the stuff Jesus abolished by making every single one of us into God’s children, priests, and kings.

Well, enough about what blasphemy’s not. Let’s get to what it is.

Prayer and posture.

I neither close my eyes nor bow my head when I pray.

Yep, that’s right. My eyes are open and I’m looking forward. Sometimes upward; sometimes downward. Sometimes at a list of prayer requests, or at a bible ’cause I’m looking for relevant scriptures, or at the person I’m praying for.

If I’m praying in the middle of an on-the-street ministry, of course I’m watching out my fellow ministers. ’Cause when people pray in public with their eyes closed, that’s the very best time for people to hassle us. Or lift our wallets. Or even shank people. It’s neither practical, safe, nor wise to close our eyes in some neighborhoods.

And if I’m working with kids, you know some of ’em are gonna take advantage of the times no one’s looking. They’re regularly surprised to find me looking. And a little disappointed ’cause now they can’t get away with anything. Sometimes they feign a little offense: “Why weren’t your eyes closed while you were praying? You know you’re supposed to close your eyes.”

Says who? Well, some pastors: “Let’s bow our heads and close our eyes.” Maybe even fold our hands. It’s how I was taught to do it as a child. My pastors still ask the congregation to do it, ’cause they’re about to ask people to confess stuff, and don’t wanna embarrass the confessors.

But the practice comes from western custom. Not bible, ’cause ancient practice was to lift one’s hands to the sky. Ne 8.6, Ps 28.2, 63.4, 134.2, 141.2, Lm 2.19, 3.41, Lk 24.50, 1Ti 2.8 Sometimes while kneeling. He 12.12

Two stories attempt to explain where western custom came from:

• It’s the natural position medieval monks would take while they were at their studies, hunched over their bibles. (Assuming they could read, and had access to bibles.)
• Kings used to demand their subjects approach them on their knees, with bowed heads, and not look ’em in the face. Since God’s our king, Christians figured we oughta approach him the same way.

But as custom, it’s optional. Bible doesn’t mandate any particular posture when we pray. God’s okay with us praying in any position. Standing up, sitting down, laying face down or face up, kneeling, bowing with our head to the floor, standing on our heads. The important thing is we don’t stop praying, and if we feel we simply have to assume a certain posture before we can pray properly, we’re letting that posture interfere with our prayer lives. So cut it out.

There’s nothing wrong with a custom when it helps us worship God better. There’s everything wrong with it when we’re more fixated on the custom than the actual worship. You know, like those kids who insist it’s not a real prayer unless we prayed with our eyes closed. Where’d they get that idea? From adults who told them, “We can’t pray till everyone’s eyes are closed”—and never bothered to explain they really meant won’t, not can’t.

That’s how customs wind up taking priority. (Something we need to watch out for when we teach newbies and kids to pray. So remember that for later.)

Exorcisms by Satan’s power? Hardly.

Mark 3.22-27, Matthew 9.32-34, 12.22-30, Luke 11.14-23.

In between Jesus’s family fearing he was overworked, Mark inserts this story about the Jerusalem scribes (or Pharisees, in Matthew) accusing him of performing his exorcisms through the power of the devil.

Matthew and Luke tell the story in the context of an exorcism Jesus had just performed. Matthew even tells it twice. Likely this accusation took place more than once.

Mark 3.22 KWL

Scribes who came down from Jerusalem

were saying Jesus has Baal Zevúl—

that he throws out demons by the chief demon.

 

Matthew 9.32-34 KWL

32 As they leave, look:

People bring Jesus a mute person, a demoniac.

33 Once Jesus throws out the demon,

the mute man speaks.

The crowd is amazed, saying, “This never appears in Israel like this!”

34 Yet Pharisees are saying,

“Jesus throws out demons by the chief demon.”

 

Matthew 12.22-24 KWL

22 Then they bring Jesus a blind and deaf demoniac.

Jesus cures him,

so the deaf man is speaking and seeing.

23 The whole crowd is overwhelmed and is saying,

“Isn’t this the Son of David?”

24 Yet Pharisees who hear of it say,

“This man doesn’t throw out demons—

unless by Baal Zevúl, the chief demon.”

 

Luke 11.14-16 KWL

14 Jesus is throwing out a mute demon,

and it happens when the demon comes out,

the mute man speaks.

The crowd is amazed.

15 Yet some of them say,

“By Baal Zevúl the chief demon, he throws out demons.”

16 Others, to test Jesus,

are seeking a heavenly sign from him.

Baalism is what we tend to call all the pagan religions which cropped up in ancient Canaan, or Palestine. They’re not all the same god, but they were all called בַּעַל/bahál, “master,” so they were generally lumped together as the “baals.” The Baal in this story is Baal Zevúl, the god of Ekron, Philistia. You might remember him as the god whom Ahaziah ben Ahab tried to contact when he wanted to know if he’d recover from his injuries.

2 Kings 1.2 KJV

2 And Ahaziah fell down through a lattice in his upper chamber that was in Samaria, and was sick: and he sent messengers, and said unto them, Go, enquire of Baalzebub the god of Ekron whether I shall recover of this disease. 3 But the angel of the LORD said to Elijah the Tishbite, Arise, go up to meet the messengers of the king of Samaria, and say unto them, Is it not because there is not a God in Israel, that ye go to enquire of Baalzebub the god of Ekron? 4 Now therefore thus saith the LORD, Thou shalt not come down from that bed on which thou art gone up, but shalt surely die. And Elijah departed.

I think more people remember when Ahaziah sent soldiers to arrest Elijah, and the LORD set the soldiers on fire. 2Ki 1.9-15 Not so much the god Ahaziah worshiped.

זְבוּל/Zevúl means “dwelling,” probably referring to the heavenly dwelling which the god supposedly lived in. But just for fun, the Hebrews started swapping zevúl for the similar זְבוּב/zevúv, “gnat” or “fly.” And it stuck. In the Septuagint, Baal Zevúl is translated Βααλ μυῖαν θεὸν/Vaäl myían theón, “Baal [the] fly god.” But by Jesus’s day, they were back to calling it Baal Zevúl… ’cause in Aramaic, zevúl had come to mean “feces.” Hence the New Testament calls the god Βεελζεβούλ/Veëlzevúl (KJV “Beelzebub,” NIV “Beelzebul”). Y’might notice Pharisees were using the term as a euphemism for Satan.

Christian mythology, particularly John Milton’s Paradise Lost, imagines Beelzebub as a whole other devil than Satan. Sometimes it’s Satan’s vice-devil. Sometimes it’s a devil who rebelled against Satan and went its own way. Sometimes it’s the devil who supervises idolatry; sometimes the devil who tempts humans with gluttony; sometimes the devil who specializes in demonizing people. Meh; a devil’s a devil.

The Galilean Pharisees didn’t know what to make of Jesus. They hated that he violated their customs, especially the ones about Sabbath. But they couldn’t deny he actually performed miracles and exorcisms—and they correctly understood you simply can’t do such things unless the Holy Spirit empowers you. But they didn’t wanna acknowledge this; they wanted some way to condemn Jesus. Likely they sent for Jerusalem scribes in order to help ’em sort this out, and provide an expert position. Remember, the custom in Pharisaism isn’t to declare what the bible means on your own authority, like Jesus does; it’s to defer to experts. (Whereas Evangelicals like me tend to figure we have enough horse sense to interpret the bible ourselves, and don’t need experts… although sometimes we really do, which is why I still look stuff up in commentaries. But yeah, not every Evangelical does likewise. They just judge someone as heretic immediately, simply because they don’t care for their teachings, or their person, or their politics. But I digress.)

Jesus wouldn’t look for bible verses, biblical loopholes, and rulings from biased elders; he’d say look for the fruit. As he does in this very story.