By
Patrick Allitt
11 February
12
Laying
Down the Sword: Why We Can’t Ignore the Bible’s Violent Verses
By Philip
Jenkins,
Harper
One, 320 pages
Is it true
that the Bible teaches peace and the Koran war? Only if you approach the books
selectively, taking the gentlest of Jesus' teachings and setting them against
the harshest of Muhammad's. Philip Jenkins's challenging new book Laying
Down the Sword shows that the Bible contains incitements not just to
violence but also to genocide. He argues that Christians and Jews should
struggle to make sense of these violent texts as a central element of their
tradition, rather than hurry past them or ignore them altogether.
The most
painful passages come in the books of Joshua and Judges, which Jenkins
describes as an "orgy of militarism, enslavement, and race war." The
Israelites, emerging from the desert after their escape from Egypt, attack
Canaanite cities, whose people are described by the biblical narrator as very
wicked. God commands the Israelites to exterminate the inhabitants - men,
women, children, and animals alike, until nothing is left alive. Likewise in
the Book of Samuel, King Saul eventually loses God's favour not for his
bloodthirstiness in war but for his restraint - he fails to annihilate his
enemies. The prophet Samuel denounces him for sparing some of the Amalekites,
takes up a sword, and personally hacks the captive King Agag to pieces. To make
matters worse, says Jenkins, God sometimes deliberately "hardens the
hearts" of other peoples, using them to chastise the sinful Hebrews. Then
He raises up Judges, righteous Israelites, to smite and destroy them in turn.
It's almost as if He wanted the highest possible body count.
Jenkins
offers a useful thought experiment, asking readers to view these stories
through the eyes of the Canaanites themselves. To them, the Israelites would
seem as terrifying as the Janjaweed militia of Darfur in our own day, or as the
Lord's Resistance Army of Uganda, whose leader, Joseph Kony, has justified the
mass torture and killing of men, women, and children in God's name.
For
centuries Jews and Christians have struggled to come to terms with these
stories. One option was always to take them at face value and act accordingly.
Crusaders in the Middle Ages, militant Christians on both sides during the wars
of religion that followed the Reformation, and extremist Zionists in Israel
today have taken the stories as evidence that killing your enemy without mercy
is exactly what God wants. Sometimes, in their view, we must accept that God's
purposes are inscrutable but nevertheless just and righteous.
Similarly,
the genocidal passages settled the consciences of European empire-builders
between 1500 and 1900. They attributed "Canaanite" wickedness to
their American, African, and Asian enemies, then exterminated them, noting that
in doing so they had emulated God's chosen conqueror, Joshua. One of the
difficulties of becoming Christian for Native Americans and Africans since then
has been God's apparent willingness to victimize people like themselves en
masse.
Another
common approach has been to overlook or exclude these genocidal texts. In the
Revised Common Lectionary, published in 1994 and now used by a wide array of
Protestant and Catholic churches in America, the biblical readings recommended
for every Sunday of the year carefully omit all the warlike texts while
emphasizing the most benevolent themes in the Old Testament that prefigure
Jesus' message of peace, love, and social justice. "Modern
preachers," notes Jenkins, "regularly proclaim the confrontational
and challenging character of the Old Testament, by which they mean the social
radicalism of Amos, or the withering critiques of war and injustice in prophets
such as Isaiah and Jeremiah. Yet few indeed are the sermons that explore the
injunction to leave nothing that breathes, or condemn those who fail to kill
the last victim." He speculates about what would happen if a typical
suburban minister were compelled, one Sunday, to preach on the text from
Deuteronomy 7: "You must destroy them totally. Make no treaty with them,
and show them no mercy."
Early
figures in Christian history approached the genocidal passages in different ways.
Marcion, leader of a highly influential Christian movement of the second
century AD, argued that the God of the Old Testament, capricious, brutal, and
violent, was the antithesis of the God of Jesus in the New Testament. His own
proposed version of the Bible omitted the Old Testament completely. So, a
century later, did that of Mani, founder of the Manicheans, who thought of
divine history as a great battle between light and darkness and denied that the
New Testament fulfilled prophecies made in the Old.
Arguing
against the Marcionites and the Manicheans, some of the Church Fathers,
including Origen and Augustine, denied that the genocidal passages should be
taken literally. In Origen's view they should be read metaphorically or
spiritually so that the Canaanites or Amalekites were not actual groups of
people, deserving of death, but the tendency to sin in every human heart,
against which we should make perpetual war. At one point in the book of Joshua,
for example, five kings hide in a cave until the Israelites find and kill them.
To Origen this story meant not that the Israelites were murderers but that the
five senses (sight, touch, hearing, smell, and taste) are always at work in the
"cave" of the human mind, always offering temptation, but that a truly
religious man, with the help of Jesus, will overcome them.
Not until
the Enlightenment did significant numbers of European intellectuals begin to
use the genocidal passages to argue against religion itself. Some, like Thomas
Paine, author of Common Sense and a hero of the American Revolution, regarded
the God disclosed by these passages as so morally inferior that no civilized
people should accept him. In The Age of Reason he described the Old Testament
as "a history of wickedness that has served to corrupt and brutalize
mankind." Paine became a radiant figure for skeptics through the 19th and
20th centuries. His most recent heirs include our own era's leading atheists,
Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins.
Scholars of
historical criticism offered yet another approach to the Bible. Starting in
Germany and gradually coming to dominate the academic study of scripture, they
recognized that the canonical books of the Old Testament were written in
different times and places by different authors with different intentions. By
now, biblical scholars are largely in agreement about the existence of four
main traditions woven together in the Old Testament: the Yahwistic, the
Elohistic, the Priestly, and the Deuteronomic. They have also shown that the
familiar order of the Old Testament books is not the order in which they were
written. On the contrary, Joshua and Deuteronomy, whose historical passages
deal with events in about the 12th century BC, were almost certainly written
500 or 600 years later, at about the same time as the prophets Isaiah, Ezekiel,
and Amos, whose peaceful and universalistic message appears to contradict them.
In other words, the genocidal actions were attributed by much later writers, to
men who had lived as remote from them in time as Christopher Columbus is from
us.
Jenkins
believes that these much later writers attributed to Joshua actions that never
happened. Their motive was to exhort their own contemporaries to live up to the
rigors of monotheism and not to let their attention be drawn away by the
multitude of other gods, from the surrounding empires and societies, competing
for their loyalty. He admits that praising their forefathers for genocide
implies that they were familiar with the concept, but takes consolation from
the fact that the pitiless massacres in question almost certainly did not take
place.
Scholarly
evidence now supports the idea that the Hebrews coexisted with many other
peoples in the Canaan of the 12th century B.C. Archaeologists in particular
cast doubt on the claim that a new group of marauders came out of the desert
and annihilated pre-existing cities and peoples; the evidence of such massacres
simply is not there. What really happened, Jenkins argues, is that the
Deuteronomic writers, concerned about dangerous political and religious
conditions, were "telling a story and at every possible stage heightening
the degree of contrast and separation between Israel and those other
nations," not for the sake of historical accuracy but to send a spiritual
message to their own people. "Israel had to kill its inner
Canaanite," so "perhaps the later commentators, Jewish and Christian,
were not that misguided in seeing the massacres in allegorical terms."
What does
all this imply for practicing Christians today? In Jenkins' view, ministers and
worshipers should face up to the genocidal texts because they are an integral
part of the Bible, whose Old and New Testaments, he believes, depend on one
another. He invokes the authority of Martin Luther, who reminded the excitable
first generation of Protestant Bible readers not to take any passage out of
context, always to think of the overall meaning of a book, and to be attentive
to the setting and specifics of a passage. Deuteronomy 7, for example, can then
be understood not as a claim that it's right for Christians to massacre their
enemies but as "a call to absolute dedication." If we continue to
ignore or deny these texts rather than face up to them in their proper context,
we will be taken by surprise when another fanatic uses them to justify murder.
That's
asking a lot of ordinary Christians because only sustained study in the
historical-critical method can lead them to understand and share his
conclusions. Jenkins must know he's aiming far higher than most congregations
are willing to stretch. As I reached the last chapter of Laying Down the Sword,
I had mixed feelings. On the one hand this book is a wonderful example of the
kind of rigorous work Christians must do if they are to retain intellectual
credibility - Jenkins is doing just what Mark Noll asked for in his 1995
manifesto The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind. He's also right to show the
unreasonableness of thinking that Islam is essentially a religion of violence
and war and Christianity a religion of peace. On the other hand it's hard to
escape the feeling that he is making excuses for the biblical authors. Perhaps
it is true that they used the language of genocide only figuratively, but in
doing so they gave warrants to people who not only committed actual genocide
but claimed God's blessing for it into the bargain.
Let me end
with another paradox about which I would have liked to hear Jenkins's thoughts.
He encourages us to look at historical events from the vantage point of the
weaker party, and he tells us that we need to reincorporate the genocidal
passages into our understanding and worship. That got me thinking about another
biblical genocide - Noah's flood. We are all familiar with pictures of the
animals lining up two-by-two and parading into the ark; these plucky survivors
have become a staple subject for greeting-card artists, songwriters,
cartoonists, even environmentalists. What we are not used to thinking about is
the fact that God Himself in this story is committing genocide, killing
everyone in the world except for the members of a single family. It's a
horrifying tale but one that our culture treats as colorful and uplifting, a
prelude to the first rainbow. I've never heard a sermon on it as an act of
divine rage and apocalyptic destruction. Perhaps that just confirms Jenkins'
general point that we should be a lot more self-aware and self-critical when we
think about our religion and a lot slower to condemn the violent tendencies in
the religions of others.
Patrick Allitt is a professor of history at Emory
University and author of The Conservatives: Ideas and Personalities throughout
American History and Catholic Intellectuals and Conservative Politics in
America, 1950-1985
Source: readersupportednews.org
URL: https://newageislam.com/books-documents/christian-jihad-can’t-ignore-bible’s/d/6679