Friday, July 4
Mark 3.1-6: This account, the healing of the man with the withered hand, is the last of five conflict stories that began with the healing of the paralytic at the beginning of the second chapter. In that earlier story, the enemies of Jesus silently accused him of “blasphemy,” the charge they will lay against him later, at his trial before the Sanhedrin.
The story immediately preceding this one was that of the Lord’s disciples rubbing grain in their hands as they walked through a field on the Sabbath day. Recall that the Lord’s enemies accused these disciples of breaking the Mosaic Law inasmuch as they were “harvesting” on the Sabbath. That story included Jesus’ self-declaration as “Lord of the Sabbath.”
The present story, once again, takes place on a Sabbath day, and this time Jesus is in the synagogue. Everyone is watching his every move, trying to discover something for which they can accuse him. They watch him more closely when they observe his approach to the man with the withered hand. Will he heal this man on the Sabbath?
Looking around at them, Jesus becomes angry. This is nearly the only time in the New Testament when anger is ascribed to Jesus during the course of his life on this earth.
The cause of this anger, says Mark, is the hardness of heart Jesus perceives in his critics. As in the earlier story of the paralytic lowered from the roof, Jesus is able to read hearts. And in neither case does he like what he sees.
These enemies have no compassion for the crippled man in the synagogue. They have no interest in his being healed, and they are not happy when he is healed. Their hearts of filled with hatred.
These enemies of Jesus illustrate an interesting phenomenon: what has been called “Id-evil.” I borrow this expression from the Slovenian sociologist, Slavoh Zizek, who wrote of it a few years ago in his book, The Fragile Absolute.
This expression, “Id-evil,” obviously adopted from Sigmund Freud’s psychological theory, in which the Id includes the human being’s largely subconscious set of uncoordinated instinctual impulses and dispositions.
Borrowing this category from Freud, Zizek describes this Id-evil as a deep, unformed instinct toward hatred and cruelty. He describes it as a “non-functional cruelty.” That is to say, it is not a cruelty directed to any purpose except the cruelty itself. Zizak speaks of it as “a violence grounded in no utilitarian or ideological cause. Id-evil has neither cause nor purpose beyond itself.”
This concept seems to embrace what the Bible calls “hardness of heart.” The spiritual danger this poses to the human soul prompts the Psalmist to exhort believers, “if today you hear [God’s] voice, harden not your hearts.”
The Greek noun used here is porosis, “hardness.” This expression comes from another Greek word, poros, which refers to tuff stone, the kind of stone left by the consolidation of volcanic ash. It takes a long time—centuries, even millennia—for this kind of stone to take shape as a hardened product. The combination of heat and pressure serve as a kind of kiln to harden this rock.
Applied as a metaphor to describe the inner attitude of Jesus’ critics, we should think of a petrified heart.
This hardness of heart, we recall, is what most provoked the Lord when He became angry towards the Israelites in the desert. Here, too, when Jesus perceives the hardness of heart of his critics in the synagogue, he becomes angry. This is not ordinary human anger. It is the very anger of God.
Saturday, July 5
Numbers 11: Although it is tightly crafted as a coherent and complex narrative, this chapter is usefully broken into four parts for the purpose of analysis: The first part (verses 1-9) describes the people’s discontent as they wander in the desert. The object of the complaint, once again (cf. Exodus 16), is the food available in the desert. The second part (verses 10-23) tells of Moses’ complaint and the Lord’s response. The third part (verses 24-30) gives an account of the Spirit poured out on the appointed elders, and the fourth (verses 31-35) narrates how the Lord dealt with the people’s discontent in the beginning of the chapter.
Throughout this chapter, the reader senses—beyond the incidents themselves—that something more radical is amiss with the Israelites in the desert, as though the author were preparing him for worse developments yet to come. As soon as the people start out on their journey, a kind of rebellion sets in, the first of several, which will test the divine patience over the next forty years.
It appears that some of the Israelites, having spent the previous eleven months encamped in the desert at the foot of Mount Sinai, were ready for a change of scenery when the time came to move. When, at the end of the previous chapter, they found themselves at Paran, a place arguably worse than where they had been before, these hopes were dashed. The ensuing “murmuring” that forced itself on the ears of both the Lord and Moses introduces the narrative in the present chapter.
This English word “murmur,” the mere pronunciation of which forces the mouth and throat to imitate the very sound of the thing, signifies a hopeless, powerless discontent that we correctly associate with the selfishness of childhood. It is an extension of a baby’s indistinct cry for the relief of its undefined needs, but in the present case it contains one further element beyond the cry of the infant. It conveys a general note of blame. The murmurer is not only complaining; he is implicitly blaming somebody for his discontent. Worse still, the act of murmuring does not quite find its way to explicit words, much less clear ideas. As the sound itself indicates, there is something frustratingly inarticulate about murmuring. It is extremely difficult to get a “handle” on the thing.
Thus, murmuring is the most distressing of sounds. Even God cannot endure it (verse 1), and His burning wrath, earlier experienced by the Egyptians, will soon be felt by Israel. Only the prayer of Moses, once again acting as Israel’s intercessor, is able to spare the Chosen People (verses 2-3).
Sunday, July 6
Mark 3.13-19: The “authority” (exsousia) that Jesus has manifested in teaching (1:22) and in driving out demons (1:27) is now shared with the Twelve (3:14-15), who are promptly named. Accounts of these Twelve are found here and in 6:7-13, and in both instances these accounts appear in proximity to stories of Jesus’ blood relatives (3:21 and 6:1-6), as though to suggest that this group of disciples are to be His new family.
The selection of these Twelve may profitably be compared to Numbers 1:1-15. For example, Peter’s name, “Rock,” finds a correspondence in the names of two of Moses’ companions: Eliesur (“God is my rock”) and Surisadai (“the Almighty is my rock”). Similarly, like James and John, two of Moses companions are blood brothers. Moreover, as in the Book of Numbers, Jesus chooses these Twelve on the mountain (verse 13). We should also note that this list of the Twelve ends on the theme of the Lord’s Passion: “and Judas Iscariot, who also betrayed Him” (verse 19).
Numbers 12: This chapter concludes the first travel narrative in Numbers. It also continues, from the previous chapter, the theme of challenges against Israel’s established leadership, this time portraying Aaron and Miriam as conspirators against Moses.
The material breaks in half, distributing two subjects: first, the challenge of Aaron and Miriam (verses 1-8); second, the Lord’s response to that challenge (verses 9-16).
First, the challenge: Supported by her brother, Miriam conceives a dislike for their Ethiopian (Aithiopissa in the LXX) sister-in-law, Zipporah (Midian=Cushan in Habakkuk 3:7). The two of them vent their displeasure on Moses himself.
It is interesting to speculate on the source of the problem. For example, we know that Moses was very much under the counsel of Reul (or Hobab), his father-in-law and the father of Zipporah, and perhaps jealousies arose in that respect. Whatever the initial point of contention, however, it is clear that the grievance of Aaron and Miriam was directed at Moses.
Specifically the two began to wonder our loud whether they weren’t at least as important as Moses himself (verse 2). Aaron, after all, not Moses, was the high priest, and Miriam was a recognized prophetess (Exodus 20:15), so why should Moses have all the authority?
Moses, being a meek man (verse 3; Exodus 3:11; 4:10-13), was disposed to overlook the affront, but the Lord was not. For the pair of complainers He had a thing or two to say relative to the special position and authority of Moses as the chosen intimate of the divine counsels (verses 6-8).
Monday, July 7
Numbers 13: Although these next two chapters, which begin the third part of Numbers, moves the story to a different place—Kadesh-barnea—they maintain the same theme as the previous two chapters: Rebellion! Indeed, the culminating rebellion recorded here changes the direction of the narrative as a whole.
The story has now reached the point at which Israel should begin its invasion of the land of Canaan. The military census taken at the book’s beginning was preparatory to such a campaign. It was for this decisive hour that the Lord had prepared His people. It was the very reason He brought them out of Egypt.
At this critical time, nonetheless, the faith of the Israelites is found deficient. Their spies, returning from reconnoitering the Promised Land, paint such a bleak picture of Israel’s military prospects that the people decide not to invade!
For the author of Numbers, this is the ultimate and decisive rebellion. The people had complained in chapter 11, and his brother and sister rebelled against Moses in chapter 12. In these next two chapters, however, the spirit of rebellion is taken to its limit, when the people and their leaders conspire to abandon God’s plan and to return to Egypt! They must suffer the fate of the man who puts his hand to the plow but then turns back (Luke 9:62). Plows are not designed to go backwards.
Since the people refuse to enter Canaan, and the Lord will not countenance a return to Egypt, the entire sinful generation is condemned to die in the desert.
The first part of chapter 13 is a list of the spies sent to reconnoiter the land (verses 1-16). We observe that these twelve men are designated as “leaders,” nasi’im. The word as used here does not, as in earlier chapters, mean the ruling heads of the tribes. On the contrary, these are younger, more agile, men with skills specific to their purpose. Since theirs was an especially important service, the failure of ten of them is all the more deplorable. In fact, they will be the first to die, as a kind of down payment on the punishment that awaits the rest of the people.
Moses, in his instructions to the group, makes little reference to topography, mentioning only the land immediately adjacent: the Negev Desert and the hill country. It is not surprising that Moses demonstrates no clear picture of the “lay of the land.” Indeed, this is the reason for sending the spies.
As in so many examples of martial reconnoitering, however, Israel’s spies are instructed to bring back information beyond that of purely military interest (verse 20). This, too, was normal. One recalls that Alexander the Great, on his vast expedition to the east, took with him a large retinue of botanists, zoologists, cartologists, and other scientists, so that none of his acquired information would be lost to posterity. (Readers of Patrick O’Brien’s marvelous adventure stories will recall that Stephen Maturin performed an identical service when he traveled in the campaigns of Jack Aubrey.)
Tuesday, July 8
Numbers 14: The theme of rebellion continues. Starting with the murmuring in chapter 11 and the defiance of Aaron and Miriam in chapter 12, rebellion now reaches a definitive high point in the present chapter, when the Israelites determine to be guided by the “majority report” of the spies in chapter 12. They vote not to enter the Holy Land!
The response of the people to the report of the spies is rather what we might expect, given the continuous spirit of rebellion and murmuring, which we have seen in the narrative up till now.
We recall that the Israelites undertook their flight from Egypt, not for the purpose of wandering in the wilderness, but in order to migrate to the Land of Promise. In this refusal to enter the Promised Land, therefore, the Israelites were thwarting the intent of the Exodus itself.
To this murmuring, the people add a kind of “death wish”: “if only we had died in this wilderness!” (verse 2) We are often told to be careful what we wish for, and the present instance is such a case. It is the supreme irony of this chapter that the Lord gives the people exactly what they want: “‘As I live,’ says the Lord, ‘just as you have spoken in My hearing, so I will do to you: The carcasses of you who have complained against Me shall fall in this wilderness’” (verses 28-29). Israel’s entire current generation of adults, save for Joshua and Caleb (verses 6,24,30), will never see the Promised Land. They will all die and be interred in the desert.
Their big mistake, of course, was to vote on the matter. When the Lord delivered Israel from Egypt, He gave no directives respecting a popular vote. God did not intend Israel’s deliverance to be an exercise in democratic government. The Lord cares no more for rule by majority vote than he does for any other expression of sinful disobedience.
The rebellion in the present chapter, therefore, is open and general, involving “the whole congregation.” It marks Israel’s major and definitive apostasy.
This rebellion is also expressed in the discussion about electing a new ruler, who will return the people to the house of bondage (verse 4). In this aspiration, the Israelites choose an extreme form of “congregationalism.” Abandoning the leadership that God chose for them, they want someone who will facilitate what they want to do. Their example remains a permanent warning to the people of God: “the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine, but according to their own desires, because they have itching ears, they will heap up for themselves teachers; and they will turn their ears away from the truth, and be turned aside to fables” (2 Timothy 4:3-4).
Near the end of the first Christian century, Clement of Rome cited this example of rebellion in his argument to the church at Corinth, where the congregation had deposed their authorized leaders in order to pick pastors more sympathetic to their preferences.
Wednesday, July 9
Numbers 15:
More legislation relative to sacrifice interrupts the narrative flow of Numbers once again. Since the rules in this chapter (verses 1-12) were applicable only to those who would actually live in the Holy Land, and since the previous chapter made it clear that none of the current generation would do so, the context of the material bears a heavy weight of irony.
The following consideration may explain and warrant this irony: After the stern condemnation at the end of the previous chapter, especially its declaration that none of the living adults would enter the Promised Land, there was some danger that the Promised Land would be forgotten altogether. Since no living adult would ever see it, why should they even think about it? Yet, at this point the serene voice of God announces, “When you come into the land . . . which I will give you . . .” That is to say, the Promised Land still lies infallibly in Israel’s future.
Indeed, this sustained promise of the Land, a promise now applicable solely to Israel’s next generation, instructed the Israelites to think more seriously about that rising generation. It would discourage them from indulging the “right now” aspect of their behavior and their expectations. The nature of the promise, that is to say, would have a “maturing” effect on their minds: a concern for the generation that would follow them.
These rules, then, which pertained to a later time and had no current relevance, were a reaffirmation of Israel’s hope. The insertion of these regulations into the narrative confirmed the constancy of the Lord; they were an implied declaration that nothing in Him had changed; and they announced the continuation of the Sinai covenant. They indirectly indicated the future wealth and well-being of the Lord’s people.
With respect to the agricultural basis of this future prosperity, our text speaks of grain, wine, and oil (verses 4-12). These three elements pertain to the three-fold cycle of harvests in the Holy Land: grains in May and June, grapes in August and September, and olives in October.
In addition, there is a provision that these rules would also apply to any guests and sojourners who were to live in the midst of Israel (verses 13-16). Thus, this chapter subtly indicates, in germinal form, an interest in non-Israelites, those who would join themselves to the Chosen People. This reference serves as a faint suggestion of a larger and later history.
Israel had only recently been a sojourning people in Egypt, where they had been taken in so that they might not starve. It is expected that they will show a similar hospitality to strangers who may with to live among them, and the provisions of this chapter explicitly pertain to such sojourners.
This very quiet, unassuming provision may be regarded as the initial seed, a small germ, as it were, of Israel’s later service to the nations. It should be viewed as part of a larger narrative—the story of the Lord’s concern for all humanity. Although Israel, at this point in the story, does not yet perceive its massive place in human history, that place is already indicated in the opening chapter of Genesis, Israel’s account of the origins of the world. Adam was no Jew. Eve was no Israelite, nor were Enoch and Noah. Yet, prior to the calling of Abraham and the covenant with Moses, God had manifested His redemptive concern for those more ancient representatives of humanity.
Thursday, July 10
Numbers 16: Two parallel scenes in the Pentateuch indicate the spiritual growth of Aaron over the years of Israel’s desert wandering. Standing in opposition to one another in the general structure of the Torah, each scene also contains further elements of internal contrast.
The earlier story is preserved in Exodus 32, which describes the incident of the golden calf. Aaron, in that episode, appears as a craven and double-minded hireling, and no shepherd. At the people’s first idolatrous impulse, in fact, he accedes to their wishes, telling them to hand over their jewelry, which he then uses to construct a molded calf.
Although very involved in the people’s sin, Aaron never admits his association in their guilt. He becomes, rather, a classical example of a sinner rationalizing an infidelity, pretending his is not an act of apostasy, but an example (as the saying goes) of “accepting people where they are.” Aaron does not love them enough to resist them.
Then, taken to task by his brother for this complicity, Aaron shamelessly denies his fault. “You know the people,” he tells Moses, “they are set on evil.” In a line of supreme mockery, the cowardly Aaron tries to minimize his involvement by claiming, “I cast [the gold] into the fire, and this calf came out.” He is portrayed as a truly unsuitable priest.
Within the structure of this story, Aaron is dramatically contrasted with Moses: At the very moment he is down in the valley, enabling the infidelity of the Israelites, faithful Moses stands on top of the mountain, praying the Lord to spare His people. The prayer of Moses prevails.
There is an additional irony in this contrast between Moses and Aaron: At the time the restless Israelites in the valley had been plotting their rebellion, Moses had been receiving the Lord’s detailed instructions concerning Aaron’s priesthood (Exodus 28—31). That is to say, even as his priesthood was in the process of formation, Aaron already proved himself unqualified for it. Even as his vestments were being designed, Aaron showed himself unworthy to wear them.
In pointed contrast to this early portrayal of Aaron stands a later scene in Numbers 16. In the latter case we find a much improved Aaron, who has now become a genuine high priest with “compassion on those who are ignorant and going astray, since he himself is also subject to weakness” (Hebrews 5:2).
As the Israelites in the later scene are being punished by plague for their most recent rebellion—thousands of them dying in a single day—Aaron takes up his priestly censor and runs down among them, placing his body between the dead and the living, and “making atonement for the people.” The Sacred Text tells us, “he stood between the dead and the living; so the plague was stopped.”
In this riveting scene, Aaron is not contrasted with Moses. On the contrary, the two brothers are now at one in their concern for the people. When the Lord tells them, “Get away from among this congregation, that I may consume them in a moment,” Moses and Aaron alike fall on their faces in joint intercessory prayer. In the earlier story, Moses had made that prayer alone, while his brother was being complicit in the people’s sin, but now the two brothers are in complete harmony. The tension of the earlier story is resolved: “So Aaron returned to Moses at the door of the tabernacle of meeting, for the plague had stopped.”
The internal contrast in this second account is between Aaron and a Levite named Korah. Forgetting that “no man takes this honor to himself, but he who is called by God, just as Aaron (Hebrews 5:4), Korah coveted the priestly office as a position of honor and power, both for himself and his household. So in the rebellion Korah and his family were the first to be punished: “the ground split apart under them, and the earth opened its mouth and swallowed them up, with their households and all the men with Korah, with all their goods. So they and all those with them went down alive into the pit; the earth closed over them, and they perished from among the assembly.”
If we compare Korah’s sin with the earlier infidelity of Aaron, it appears to be far worse. Whereas Aaron’s had been the failing of a weak and unworthy man, Korah’s is the more terrible offense of malice, pride, and deliberate rebellion.
Friday, July 11
Numbers 17: This short chapter covers the aftermath of the recent twofold revolt. The purpose of the ordeal and miracle of the twelve rods was to determine, in as clear a way as possible, exactly where the authority in Israel was to be recognized. In short there was to be No More Murmuring (verses 5,10)!
The “incense test” is followed by the “rod test.” Whereas the former vindication of Aaron’s priesthood began with rebellion on the part of its challengers, this one comes entirely from a divine initiative.
The Hebrew word for rod in this chapter is matteh, which in fact means both “staff” and “tribe.” On the rod of Aaron was to be inscribed the name of Aaron himself (verse 3).
Aaron’s rod had, of course, the advantage of experience, if the expression is allowed. That is to say, we readers already know the sorts of things that Aaron’s rod could do, such as turn into a snake and eat up the other rods (Exodus 7:9-15). We are not surprised by the outcome of the present ordeal. The other rods in this story never had a chance.
The overnight blossoming of an almond tree was not uncommon, and in fact Jeremiah (1:12) would later take it as symbolic of the swiftness of the divine judgment. The miracle in this chapter, of course, is that we are not talking about an almond tree, but a dead piece of wood.
Anyway, the miracle produced in the Israelites a sudden change of attitude (verses 12-13). Since the desert narrative records no further challenges to the Aaronic priesthood, we infer that the present vindication of it was completely effective. It was henceforth understood that God alone could choose who would approach Him (Hebrews 5:4).
All of the rods were symbols of authority, for such is a normal meaning of the rod in Holy Scripture. Only the priestly rod, however—the symbol of priestly authority—was the bearer of beauty and nourishment: “the rod of Aaron, of the house of Levi, had sprouted and put forth buds, had produced blossoms and yielded ripe almonds” (verse 8).
Unlike the other rods, which symbolized only authority, the rod of Aaron actually brought forth goodness and life. It was the work of the priesthood to conduct Israel in the pursuit of beauty and life; it was a budding rod, a fruitful and benevolent authority. Aaron’s rod was not intended to beat Israel into submission, but to beautify and to feed them.
Now that the primacy of Aaron’s household has been established so clearly, the next chapter will contain more rules for the Aaronic priesthood.