Violence in Defense of Justice

Studying for an exam as I begin my PhD studies I came across a quotation that I had to share.

Richard Hays, one of the premier biblical scholars in the world, attempts to explain how the Bible can function as a resource for ethics in his book Moral Vision of the New Testament. As a case study, Hays asks, “Is it ever God’s will for Christians to employ violence in defense of justice?” 

In an excellent chapter arguing that it is not God's will for Christians use violence in defense of justice Hays quotes the words of Father George Zabelka, the Catholic priest who administered mass to the pilot who dropped the atomic bomb on Nagasaki. These are the words of Zabelka years later: 

To fail to speak to the utter moral corruption of the mass destruction of civilians was to fail as a Christian and as a priest as I see it. [. . .] Catholics dropped the A-bomb on top of the largest and first Catholic city in Japan. One would have thought that I, as a Catholic priest, would have spoken out against the atomic bombing of nuns. (Three orders of Catholic sisters were destroyed in Nagasaki that day.) One would have thought that I would have suggested that as a minimal standard of Catholic morality, Catholics shouldn’t bomb Catholic children. I didn’t. I [. . .] was heir to a Christianity that had for seventeen hundred years engaged in revenge, murder, torture, the pursuit of power, and prerogative violence, all in the name of our Lord.

Reading the Old Testament with Faith

Have you ever agreed with an atheist? I know I have. If I’m honest, I can resonate a bit with Richard Dawkins’s reading of the OT,

The God of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynist, a homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully (The God Delusion, 1).

While I have never been so angry about it, I can certainly identify with Dawkins’s atheist assessment. Perhaps after reading about the death of Uzzah (2 Sam 6.1-8) or the divinely sanctioned slaughter of the Canaanites (Josh 6.21; 10.40; 11.12-15), you have questioned the character of God? Maybe your view of God as described in the OT is a distant, sexist, legalistic deity?


Most Christians never vocalize these questions and just turn the page to get to the stories they can more easily stomach. Or, confused believers just skip past the OT altogether and get right to Jesus. I would venture to say that if you’ve never questioned the character of God as seen in these and other troubling OT texts you’ve never taken them seriously. After reading certain parts of the OT it is difficult to avoid the thought that the character of God portrayed there is not the kind of God worth worshiping. Instead, you might easily conclude he’s actually the kind of god you would like to avoid altogether. It is to precisely these troubling texts that David T. Lamb directs his provocatively titled recent book, God Behaving Badly: Is the God of the Old Testament Angry, Sexist and Racist?

Lamb’s answer to these troubling texts is to read them with a hermeneutic of trust. Before condemning problem passages, Lamb wants to understand them. His method is threefold. First, he wants to ask why. What reason might there be for God to be angry or to issue a command for slaughter? Second, he suggests reading these passages in context in order to better understand God’s motives. Third, and this is in my opinion a nebulous method, he suggests that readers should, “have reasonable expectations” (42). The only clarity he gives to “reasonable expectations” is, “You won’t be able to resolve all problems.” Elsewhere, Lamb emphasizes that the OT was “culturally engaged” and thus had to make sense in a radically different cultural context (23). Thus, a “reasonable expectation” would seem to be recognizing how God could teach his people something in a culture far less progressive and egalitarian than contemporary western culture. Still, what do you do with these problematic texts that cannot be otherwise resolved? Lamb doesn’t explicitly say, but one can infer that he wants to read these texts as Scripture, describing a God we don’t always understand. Though we cannot always understand, we can trust him because of the wealth of other texts that point to a good God.

Lamb’s book is a fairly comprehensive popular-level defense of the OT God. After an introductory chapter Lamb sets up seven contrasting descriptions of God and addresses the relevant texts to show that the OT God really isn’t worthy of his bad reputation. So Lamb asks if Yahweh is,

Angry or loving? (Chapter 2) 

Sexist or Affirming? (Chapter 3) 

Racist or Hospitable? (Chapter 4)

Violent or Peaceful? (Chapter 5) 

Legalistic or Gracious? (Chapter 6) 

Rigid or Flexible? (Chapter 7) 

Distant or Near? (Chapter 8)

In each chapter he addresses the texts that seem to portray God negatively (sexist, racist, angry, etc.). Then, he draws from a number of other OT texts that describe God quite positively (egalitarian, caring for outsiders, loving, etc.). Lamb attempts to show that most of these OT texts are not so bad, and that overall the picture of God in the OT is a fascinatingly complex, relationally devoted, and ultimately a good God (179-80). So while Lamb admits, “I don’t always understand [God].” He concludes, “I don’t really think he behaves badly” (176).

According to a recent interview with Lamb, the book is aimed at “as wide an audience as possible,” but specifically focused on those persuaded by the arguments of the New Atheists, seekers troubled by the OT, Christians who neglect the OT because they’re afraid of it, and preachers who ignore the OT because they are ill-equipped to understand it. Lamb is an Associate Professor of OT at Biblical Seminary, an evangelical school focused on training people for ministry, and is trying to make the OT readable without ignoring difficult passages. His style is extremely accessible and filled with illustrations from pop-culture including references to TV shows (The Simpsons, The Office), movies (Evan Almighty, Oceans 13), and comic strips (Calvin and Hobbes, Doonesbury). He also has a self-deprecating humor that makes him quite likable.

In my assessment, God Behaving Badly is an apology that will preach to the choir and speak to the seeker, but do little for the skeptic. In the latter chapters that focus on popular misconceptions of the OT God as legalistic, rigid and distant, Lamb does a fine job of showing how these labels are not accurate. Also, the early chapters refuting the angry and sexist conceptions of God are also quite helpful, even if I think the way the NT gets used in these chapters lacks sufficient nuance.[1] These chapters are worthwhile reading for clearing up misconceptions about the OT and making it more accessible to believers. Lamb’s analysis of the problem passages, however, is less convincing.

The least convincing of Lamb’s arguments appears in chapter four, “Racist or Hospitable?” Let me be clear at the outset, there are not many satisfying alternatives to Lamb’s argument. So, I’m not trying to lambaste him for being dishonest, but I do think his approach is inherently flawed. He turns to one of the most difficult problems for Christians reading the OT, “Should the slaughter of the Canaanites by God’s people be considered an act of genocide?” (76). Before answering the question outright, Lamb points to the context of the Ancient Near East. He describes the despicable military practices of Ashurnasirpal of Assyria and the military activity of the Moabite king inscribed in the Mesha inscription. From these comparisons, Lamb makes two points.

First, he argues that Joshua is clearly using hyperbolic language. While the Joshua texts describe “complete destruction” (Josh 10.40; 11.12-15), there are other texts that recognize (often as a lament) the fact that Israel did NOT completely drive out the indigenous population (Josh 13.1-6; 15.63; 16.10; 23.13; 17.12; Judges 1.19-34). Thus, “To reconcile these two divergent perspectives on Israel’s conquest, a nonliteral reading of the texts that speak of ‘all’ people being destroyed is required” (77). Lamb’s argument, then, is that since Israel did not always follow the divine command for total destruction, they really were not all that violent. Even if these commands were not always followed rigidly, the fact that they were issued at all is still disturbing and without sufficient explanation.

Second, Lamb argues that the conquest narratives of Joshua are much less violent than those of Ashurnasirpal and Mesha. In Joshua, Lamb asserts, “There is no mention of women or children, and no descriptions of brutality or mutilation” (77). Unfortunately, this statement is blatantly false. Joshua does explicitly mention the slaughter of women and children (Josh 6.21) as do other OT texts (Deut 2.34, 3.6). While it is true that total destruction was exceptional for war (Deut 20.10-16) and Israel apparently had a reputation for being merciful (1 Kgs 20.31), this does not mean that Israel was in every instance any less violent than other nations in war. Comparing the Mesha inscription with the conquest narratives of Joshua, it is a stretch to suggest that the Joshua text is less violent. If anything it’s the other way around.

The clinching argument for Lamb is that “unlike Assyria and Moab, which were expanding their own borders to enrich their own kingdoms, Israel was simply attempting to gain a homeland” (78). Unfortunately, this is an instance where the hermeneutic of trust becomes a hermeneutic of apologetic. Israel is assumed to be just in her actions so Lamb’s interpretation of the evidence confirms the preformed conclusion. Reading the Moabite stone, for example, it is clear that King Mesha considered his actions completely justified in light of the oppression he faced at the hands of the Israelite King Omri.[2] Of course Israelite stories would describe the conquest as an innocent attempt to gain the homeland which they believed belonged to them. In much the same way as Moabite stories justify the violence of Moabite kings and Assyrian stories justify the violence of Assyrian kings. Just like contemporary Zionists argue that the land of Palestine belongs to them and thus any violence against indigenous Palestinians is justified. There is, however, one substantial difference between Israel’s retelling of stories and other nations’ retellings. As Lamb points out, God is more than willing to punish Israel for her injustice (pg 79 citing 2 Kgs 17; 24-25). So, Israel reads stories against itself as a crucial part of its own narrative. 

In the end, Lamb’s honesty is laudable, “The Canaanite conquest is probably the most problematic topic in the Old Testament [. . .] I must resort to taking it on faith that even though God commanded his people to kill the Canaanites, he still loves the nations and ultimately wants to bless them” (81). While I disagree with some of Lamb’s arguments, I agree with his conclusion. The conquest narratives don’t make sense to me, but I trust that God is ultimately good. This trust is not an irrational fideism, but rather a wrestling with the text of scripture and the character of God revealed therein. It is precisely because of my faith in God that these violent OT texts are difficult for me to understand. Similarly, my faith won't allow me to dismiss these texts out of hand.

David Lamb has tackled a difficult subject, making the OT readable to everyday people. Even if he falters in regard to a very difficult problem, he has still written a fine introduction to the OT from the perspective of faith. Lamb successfully shows that the god Dawkins so vehemently opposes is not the God of the OT. Rather, God as we see him in the OT is complex, relationally devoted to people in a specific cultural context, and ultimately a good God. If you’re looking for a book to recommend to a believer or seeker struggling with the OT, this is a good place to start.

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[1] For example, Lamb describes Jesus’ temple action (Mt 21.12-13 || Mk 11.15-17 || Lk 19.45-46; Jn 2.14-16) as an important illustration of “the anger of Jesus” (43), but anger appears nowhere in the gospels. If this story was meant to highlight Jesus’ anger how come he is never described as angry in any of these texts? Similarly, he says that he will use the name “Jesus” to refer to the “God of the New Testament” (19). Obviously, Lamb is trying to argue that there shouldn’t be such a sharp dichotomy between the testaments, but this is sloppy theological language. The “God of the NT” is the Father, and Jesus is his anointed Messiah. Furthermore, whatever implications Jesus’ status as Messiah might have for his divine status requires a lot of explanation. Perhaps I’m misunderstanding him, but it does not seem at all accurate to say, “I am simply following the conventions for divine names established in the two testaments” (19). The theological language of the Trinity is not articulated until well into the fifth century. Still, overall Lamb does a fine job dispelling false dichotomies between the OT and NT.

[2] Interestingly enough, Omri is also condemned as a wicked ruler in 1 Kgs 16.25-26 for his idolatry.

with blood on our hands

I just watched the most recent installment of “RAMBO.” It is very popular these days to talk about the affects of violence in the media on young people or society in general, but this is not what my post is about. This Rambo is the fourth movie in the series and comes late in Sylvester Stallone’s career. Recently, Stallone has been resurrecting his classic action characters “Rocky” and “Rambo.” Rocky (2006) supposedly portrayed elements of Stallone’s recently rekindled faith in Christ. According to Catholic News Agency, Sly considers Rambo to be a “Christian film” as well. The movie was just released on video and I decided I could handle some mindless entertainment. Also, if I’m totally honest, I was a Rambo fan before I knew it wasn’t okay to enjoy that kind of film. I know it’s embarrassing but sadly true. This post is not, however, a confession of my admittedly bad movie taste either.

So what is this post? It is about RAMBO’s so called Christian character. Specifically, I think it is clear that this movie is an accurate portrayal of much of contemporary Christianity’s slavery to death. The plot of the movie is as follows: John Rambo is a sort of nihilist with a big heart and even bigger muscles. While living a sad and angry existence peddling poisonous snakes in a filthy tourist spot in Thailand, Rambo is approached by Christian missionaries who want to take medicine, bibles and medical care into the war-torn nation of Burma. After initially refusing, Rambo finally gives in to the request of the only female missionary who asks real nice. She says, “Trying to save a life isn't wasting your life, is it?” Apparently not.

So, Rambo takes them up river. Unfortunately, they run into some Burmese pirates that “force” the big lug into killing them. The missionaries are outraged, but Rambo is justified by the fact that his new female missionary friend would have been raped. Rambo drops the daring do-gooders off with an awkward goodbye then goes back to snake selling. Predictably, the missionaries fall into the hands of the evil Burmese military. The pastor of the church where these missionaries came from is forced to hire mercenaries to go rescue them. Rambo takes a second trip after confronting his own demons and realizing that he is just meant to kill. The irony of the mercenaries is picked up by their leader “So, they send in the devil to do God's work.”

As you might expect Rambo does more than just take these guys up river. Rambo opens u up a can of “Whoop A**!” He breaks out his bow and arrows to bring the hurt on some evil Burmese soldiers. He spends the rest of the movie selflessly killing everyone who does wrong to save the missionaries, particularly Sarah Miller (his new female friend). By the end of the movie even the missionary who was so quick to condemn Rambo’s pirate killing has blood on his hands. The movie ends with a man redeemed by his own violence. Things really can change; it just takes some good ole fashion killing to make it happen.

According to IMDB, this Rambo boasts a kill count of 236, the most for any in the franchise. It averages out 2.59 killings per minute. No gore is spared either. The movie shows limbs being ripped off, guts spilling out and various projectile weapons dismantling bodies. Rambo is a perfect example of the kind of propaganda that masquerades as entertainment. It is a monument to death. William Stringfellow, the great lawyer/social activist/Christian theologian discusses the powers of death over humanity in his book Free in Obedience. In the same book he concludes a section, “So men, in their falleness, are found sometimes idolizing themselves, sometimes idolizing snakes or bugs, other creatures, or natural phenomena, or sometimes idolizing nation, ideology, race, or one of the other principalities. It is to such as these that men look to justify their existence, to find and define the lost meaning of their lives, and to fill the place of God himself.” In the struggle against death men participate in it. Their killing is justified by their intention to rid the world of killers. Rambo is redeemed by the blood of the Burmese soldier and if he were at Calvary Jesus certainly wouldn’t have died.

One thing that is terribly real about the film is the portrayal of the military junta in Burma, one of the worst human rights violators in the world. Watching this movie in conjunction with reading Stringfellow has prompted me to consider what a faithful Christian response to the situation in Burma/Myanmar might look like. So, in conjunction with previous postings about confession of corporate sin this is a beginning of a series of posts asking what Christianity might look like in Burma and how Christians in America can spread the Kingdom of God while living in a world of death. I pray that our answer does not lie with Rambo redemption.