12 February 2025

Pseudepigrapha: Influential ancient Jewish fanfiction.

PSEUDEPIGRAPHUM su.də'pɪ.ɡrə.fəm noun. A document definitely not written by the author it claims, nor in the time it claims. Sometimes fraud; sometimes just fanfiction.
2. A Jewish writing ascribed to one of the patriarchs or prophets of bible times, but actually written after 200BC.
[Plural, pseudepigrapha su.də'pɪ.ɡrə.fə noun; pseudepigraphic su.de.pɪ'ɡræ.fɪk adjective.]

The bible isn’t the only ancient Israeli book in history. Same as today—though certainly not in the same volume as today—tons of books were written, distributed, and became popular. And same as today, many were about God. Were they as Spirit-inspired as the bible? Nah. That’s why they weren’t included in the book collection which became our bible.

Well, most of them. There’s also apocrypha. Certain books were revered by certain churches, and got added to their bibles. Hence Ethiopian Christians have 81 books in their bibles, Orthodox Christians have 79, and Roman Catholics have 73. I’ve read most of their apocrypha; largely it’s good stuff. Good advice to follow; it’s like some of the better writings of Christian saints. Won’t hurt you to read it! But I don’t believe it’s as inspired as bible—same as the better writings of Christian saints. Good stuff, but is it infallible stuff? Meh; be wary.

Then there are the books to be really wary about, and that’d be the pseudepigrapha (Greek for “fake writings”). Whenever I write about Jewish mythology, these books are where these myths come from. They were popular in ancient Judea. Popular even in Jesus’s day. Jesus’s followers grew up hearing about ’em, even reading them.

There are even references to them in the bible. We have a full-on quote from one of ’em in Jude:

Jude 1.14-15 NET
14Now Enoch, the seventh in descent beginning with Adam, even prophesied of them, saying, “Look! The Lord is coming with thousands and thousands of his holy ones, 15to execute judgment on all, and to convict every person of all their thoroughly ungodly deeds that they have committed, and of all the harsh words that ungodly sinners have spoken against him.”

Jude wasn’t quoting the Old Testament, ’cause the OT has absolutely no Enoch quotes whatsoever. And no, Jude didn’t have any special revelation from God about what Enoch did or didn’t say. Jude was quoting a popular book, 1 Enoch, specifically this verse here:

1 Enoch 1.9
“Behold, he comes with myriads of the holy to pass judgment upon them, and will destroy the impious, and will call to account all flesh for everything the sinners and the impious have done and committed against him.”

The book was supposedly written by Enoch ben Jared, the great-grandfather of Noah the ark-builder. Somehow it survived the great flood, then 10,000 years or so of human history, then managed to not get into the Hebrew Old Testament and Septuagint, but leapfrogged them both and got into the Ethiopian bible.

Wait, Enoch wrote a book? No.

11 February 2025

“Can I pray for you?”

Whenever you aren’t sure, or don’t know, what to do: Yalk to God. Pray.

Not only is this always good advice to follow, but it’s good advice when dealing with other people. Whenever other people share their difficulties with us, we won’t always know how to respond. We’ll be tempted to give advice—as if we know anything. But prayer’s one of the best responses—if not the best, period. It’s turning to God as our first resort.

I know; plenty of people think they know precisely what to do when they hear someone’s troubles. That’s why they immediately offer advice. No, the person sharing their woes didn’t ask for it. Often they just want to vent to someone. But that’s not gonna stop people from inflicting bad advice upon ’em anyway.

Remember Job’s friends? For a week he kept his mouth shut, Jb 2.13 but then he made the mistake of lamenting in front of them, Jb 3 and it opened up the floodgates of bad advice, naive statements, sorry platitudes—you know, the same stuff people still offer as advice, which just goes to show they’ve never read Job. It pissed the LORD off, ’cause nothing they said about him was correct. Jb 42.7 Like I said, shoulda gone to him first.

Me, I try to keep the unsolicited advice to this blog. If you want it, I’ll offer it, with the usual disclaimer that I’m hardly infallible. But really, the best response is, “Can I pray for you?”

And when we offer to pray for them, let’s not do the similar platitudinous “Oh goodness that’s awful; I’ll pray for you.” Mostly because among Christianists, “I’ll pray for you” means one of two things:

  • “I’m really offended by what you just said, so you can go to hell. No, wait; I need to sound Christian. ‘I’ll pray for you.’ Yeah, that’s the ticket.”
  • “Oh Lord, I don’t care about all your miserable problems. I’ve got my own stuff to deal with. How do I get out of this dreary conversation? ‘I’ll pray for you.’ Good; now I can leave.”

It’s seldom based on sympathy.

Well, don’t be one of those unsympathetic jerks. If you’re offering to pray for people, no time like the present! Stand right there and pray. Doesn’t need to be a long prayer; doesn’t need to be perfect words. Just needs to be you, telling God to help ’em out.

03 February 2025

“If you 𝘢𝘳𝘦 the son of God…”

In two of the three temptations the devil tried out on Jesus, Satan began them with the words, ܐܶܢ ܒ݁ܪܶܗ ܐܰܢ݈ܬ݁ ܕ݁ܰܐܠܳܗܳܐ/on bará anát d’Alahó, or as the Greek New Testament puts it, Εἰ υἱὸς εἶ τοῦ θεοῦ/ei yiós ei tu Theú, “If the Son of God you are.” The KJV renders this, “If thou be the Son of God,” and the GNT goes with “If you are God’s Son,” but most of us know it as, “If you are the Son of God,” as the ESV, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NRSV, and other popular translations put it.

Matthew 4.3 NIV
3AThe tempter came to him and said, “If you are the Son of God…”
Matthew 4.6 NIV
6A“If you are the Son of God,” he said…
Luke 4.3 NIV
3AThe devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God…”
Luke 4.9 NIV
9B“If you are the Son of God,” he said, “throw yourself down from here.”

The devil skipped it when it was tempting Jesus with the kingdoms of the world… which kinda makes sense. “If you are the Son of God, bow before me.” Really doesn’t work. So you can see why it skipped those words in that particular temptation. But it’s in the other two.

Okay, so why’d Satan think those particular words were gonna prod Jesus to fall for its temptations?

Well you gotta remember what happened to Jesus just before the Spirit had him go to the wilderness. He had his relative John baptize him in the Jordan, and the skies open up and a voice said, “This is my beloved Son.” God publicly declared Jesus his son. And of course Satan wanted to sow a bit of doubt in Jesus’s head: “Y’know, maybe you’re not.”

Worked on Eve. Ge 3.4-6 Maybe it’d work on Jesus?

27 January 2025

Jesus’s 40-day fast.

Matthew 4.2, Luke 4.2.

Whenever we see people fast (and usually pray; they kinda go together) in the Old Testament, they’re either mourning, repenting, or strongly petitioning God. But after the Spirit sent Jesus to the wilderness to be tempted, we see Jesus fasting—

Matthew 4.2 KWL
Fasting 40 days and 40 nights,
Jesus is famished afterwards.
Luke 4.2 KWL
…to be tested by the devil 40 days.
Jesus is eating nothing in those days,
and is famished by the end of them.

—and we know he’s not repenting, for he has nothing to repent; we’re fairly sure he’s not mourning; so most Christians figure he’s strongly petitioning his Father. He’s about to have a Satan-encounter, and even though he expects to win (’cause come on; he’s God) he gave up his omniscience when he became human, and doesn’t know what Satan’ll bring to their meeting. So the best thing anyone can do in that circumstance, is pray up!

And it definitely wouldn’t hurt to fast. Well, hurt spiritually. With some obvious exceptions, like hypoglycemia, you’re gonna physically be fine till the second hunger pangs kick in. Then you’re gonna be weak. But this isn’t a physical battle anyway; it’s not like that scene in C.S. Lewis’s novel Perelandra, in which Ransom literally has to beat the devil-possessed Weston to death. That was messed up; that was based on the fleshly limitations of Lewis’s imagination. Jesus knows better than to think physical force stops a spiritual one. Fasting is actually a way of renouncing physical force: We make ourselves weak so that God can make us spiritually strong. We use the Spirit’s fruit of self-control to pursue the Spirit all the more.

That’s why Jesus fasted: He wanted to be overprepared to overmatch the devil. So he deprived himself, and as the scripture says, he was famished afterwards. But in his spirit, he was mightier than ever.

23 January 2025

Every Christian is a priest.

PRIEST prist noun. An ordained minister of the Roman Catholic Church, Orthodox Church, or Church of England, having authority to perform certain rites and administer certain sacraments.
2. A person who performs the religious ceremonies and duties of a religion.
3. A mallet used to kill the fish one catches when angling.
[Priestlike 'pris(t).laɪk adjective, priestly 'pris(t).li adjective.]

I pulled this definition out of the dictionary. I hadn’t heard definition #3 before; I included it ’cause it amuses me.

Y’notice it either says a priest is an ordained minister of a liturgical church, or implies it’s some person who does the rituals in some other religion. But definition #2 in fact applies to Christianity too. If you perform religious ceremonies, duties, rituals, or whatever else in your church, you’re being a priest.

Yes, you. ’Cause you’re a priest. Every Christian is.

It was after all God’s intention to create a kingdom of priests, a holy nation. Ex 19.6, 1Pe 2.9 So Jesus made his followers—us Christians—his priests. A kingdom of priests to our God. Rv 1.6, 5.10 Every Christian can minister to fellow Christians; therefore every Christian is a priest.

Yeah okay, elders in particular tend to get called to do these duties. Rightly so, because they generally know what they’re doing. They’re mature enough to perform priestly functions correctly. They can preach, prophesy, lead us in worship, perform baptisms, anoint sick people, distribute communion, lay hands on people for dedication or commission or anointing, intercede for others in prayer, and perform weddings. (Although the state tends to get picky about who can do that last one, separation of church and state regardless.)

Because the ancient Christians’ elders were usually the ones doing these priestly duties, over time the Greek word for elder, πρεσβύτερος/presvýteros, came to mean “priest” in those churches. (Technically that’s inaccurate; the ancient Greek word for priest is ἱερεύς/yereýs.) The rest of us just translate it “elder” or “presbyter.” So yeah, when liturgical churches read the bible, they read the qualifications for elders just a bit differently than we do; they’re looking for the critieria for priests.

But again: Every Christian is a priest. A new believer can anoint and heal a sick person, same as any elder. God can use anybody, y’know.

Still, whenever we’re sick, and want a fellow Christian to pray for us, whom do we usually go to? Right you are: An elder. A mature Christian. Not some newbie, who doesn’t yet have the hang of hearing the Holy Spirit; not some longtimer who lacks spiritual maturity. We want someone whom we know can minister properly. Some Christians won’t permit anybody to minister to ’em but an elder; and in many cases they only want the senior pastor of their church, ’cause they’re sure that guy knows God. (Hopefully so!)

That’s why, when a newbie comes running to the front of the church, hoping to preach a little something, they’re not automatically gonna get the microphone. We tend to keep priestly functions in the elders’ hands. We permit newbies to do it only under an elder’s supervision and training.

Or, of course, when there’s absolutely no one else available. Or, let’s be honest, when they’re the pastors’ kids. Or when nobody else knows how to play the piano so well. Or when they’re interns who’ve been really good at hiding their hypocrisy whenever the grown-ups are around. Let’s be honest; we’ve got a few cracks in the system. But generally we’ve screened people before they minister as priests.

Oh yeah: I should mention many of the same Christians who claim presvýteros means “priest,” never ever translate πρεσβυτέρας/presvytéras, “elder women,” 1Ti 5.2 as “priestesses.” Relax. I’ll get to that.

22 January 2025

False knowledge, and how it’s confused with faith.

There are plenty of people who “just know” things.

And man alive, are they frustrating. Y’see, they can’t tell you why they know what they do. They don’t know where they got their knowledge, nor what it’s based on. Not that it matters where they got it: They believe it. You can’t tell them any different.

But they’re wrong. It’s false knowledge.

I’ll tell people something they’ve not heard before, and they’ll respond—whether in Sunday school, my classrooms, or the workplace—

THEY. “Why, what you’re saying can’t be true, for I know different.”
ME. [patiently] “Well your knowledge is wrong. Relax; we’re all wrong sometimes.”
THEY. “Nope; can’t be. I know this.”
ME. “Okay, maybe I’m wrong. So prove your case. Show me why you’re right.”
THEY. “Don’t need to. I know I’m right.”

Every once in a while they’ll really try to prove their case. Turns out there’s a thousand holes in their reasoning. Easy to see, easy to chip away at. But they can’t see the holes. And don’t really care there are holes; it doesn’t matter if they prove their point; they know they’re right.

It’s not that they actually believe what they do for logical reasons. Humans aren’t logical. We believe what we do because we find it convenient to believe it. Helps when it’s actually true. But even when it’s not, people will push aside all evidence to the contrary, grasp at any evidence they can find in their favor, and believe what they please anyway.

Certain Christian apologists call this behavior “postmodernism.” It’s not. (If anything, postmoderns are frequently the ones demanding, “Prove it.”) Not that postmoderns aren’t just as guilty of this behavior: Everybody does it. Moderns, postmoderns, everyone. It’s not a worldview thing, not a cultural thing, not a political thing, not even a sin thing. It’s a human thing. We’re comfortable with our beliefs, and don’t wanna change ’em, even if there’s plenty of evidence to the contrary. Change is too inconvenient.

I had to be trained to not think this way. First journalism school, then seminary: We were taught to question everything. Everything. My first journalism professor was fond of saying, “If your mother tells you she loves you, check it out!” Which sounds ridiculous at first… but you do realize there are a lot of dysfunctional mothers out there, who have very distorted definitions of love. Turns out she might not love you; whatever she’s feeling is neither khecéd nor fílos and agápi. Shouldn’t have presumed; now you see why your relationship is so f----d up.

There are naturally skeptical people who automatically question everything. Or so it appears; there are certain beliefs they take for granted, and you’ll find ’em once you drill down far enough. They might be nihilistic about a lot of things, but at their core they’re pretty sure they’re right about a number of things. Cogito ergo sum, at least.

But more often people are comfortable with the knowledge they believe they have, and are willing to trust it. Their minds are made up. Doesn’t matter which way the evidence points: There’s no higher authority than their minds.

It’s why people refuse to believe in climate change, or in an ancient earth, or insist humans are inherently good (regardless of our obvious depravity). Conversely it’s also why people believe in connect-the-dots theories and conspiracies. And it doesn’t matter how much evidence we have of a screw loose in their reasoning: They’re right. They know so. Can’t tell ’em otherwise.

In 2005 Stephen Colbert famously labeled this phenomenon as truthiness—that people believe what they do because they feel it’s true, rather than know it’s true. (And to a large degree it’s also because they feel it’s true; these “facts” are possessions or creations of theirs, so there’s a lot of selfishness bundled with ’em.)

True, false knowledge has a lot of similarities to truthiness. But unlike truthiness, it’s usually borne from apathy. People believe as they do because change and repentance take more effort than they care to spend.

It’s like fact-checking a headstone. My grandfather’s headstone actually has his first and middle names reversed. But nobody bothered to spend the money to fix it. And nobody’s gonna. Cemetery records, and eventually genealogies, are gonna have his names flipped for ages to come, all because nobody cares enough to fix the error. False knowledge has just this kind of effect on real knowledge… and often a much bigger impact.

So yeah: Truthiness has a lot of feelings involved in its practice and propagation. False knowledge has no such feelings. Gets propagated all the same.

21 January 2025

God doesn’t owe us anything for fasting.

I’ve pointed out fasting is a great way to focus our attention on God so we can pray better, hear him better, and develop our self-control.

But no, I don’t guarantee you’ll grow in all these ways when you fast.

All things being equal, you probably will. But as you know, there are lots of ways people can bollix our own growth. If we’re fasting, yet the rest of our lives are just as sinful as ever, why should we expect anything to change whatsoever? And yet Christians do: “I’m fasting! That should count for something.”

The Hebrews did it too, y’know. They’d fast, then make prayer requests ’cause they believed fasting would show the LORD they were serious, and it’d move him a little faster. It’s why Jehoshaphat told Jerusalem to fast so God might rescue them from invaders, 2Ch 20.3 and why Esther asked the Persian Jews to fast before she petitioned the king. Es 4.16 But because God acted on the petitioners’ behalf in these stories, Christians get the idea fasting always makes God move. They’ll claim this is “the biblical principle of fasting”: If you fast, God’ll answer prayer, and give you revelations.

But no it’s not a “biblical principle.” The idea that fasting always makes God move, is based on works righteousness, the idea God we can earn God’s favor through good deeds and acts of devotion. So if we’re good, God supposedly owes us one; if we’re super good God owes us a lot. And supposedly religious acts and rituals can cancel out any evil deeds: If I’m stealing from my workplace’s cash drawer, saying a few hundred Hail Marys oughta work it off, right? What’s the going exchange rate, a buck per hail?

In reality there is no biblical principle of fasting. Because in the bible, the LORD never commanded anyone to fast. Ever. The bible contains no teachings about what fasting does, why it’s important, and how often we oughta do it. The one teaching it does have on fasting is when Jesus tells us to not be hypocrites about it, and do it privately instead of publicly. Mt 6.16-18 The rest of Christianity’s teachings on fasting come from tradition: From fellow Christians’ experiences with fasting, and how it benefited them; and how it personally benefited us when we tried it.

But anyone who claims fasting unlocks God’s promises, and now he owes us stuff: They didn’t get that from bible. They got it from a corrupt Christian tradition, if anything. It’s not so. God owes us nothing. His kingdom runs on grace, not quid pro quo. He grants us grace and prayer requests and revelations because he loves us, not because we racked up enough heavenly frequent flyer miles to get a trip to Belize.

He tends to grant these things to active followers, not because we’re actively following, but because what good would they be in the hands of people who aren’t actively following? Such people will just squander his gifts, and be of little to no help to his kingdom. It’s not merit; it’s pragmatism.

So when we fast, is God obligated to do more for us than usual? Not at all. He tends to, but that’s only because Christians who fast, tend to love Jesus and follow him otherwise.