From: A Torah
Commentary on James 1-2 Return to Home
By Roland H. Worth, Jr. © 2014
[Page 324]
Chapter 1C:
Problem Texts
1:2:
Counting it
“joy” when we face times of difficulty.
In its textual setting, [t]he Greek word for joy (charan)
constitutes a wordplay on the preceding ‘greeting’ (chairein).”[1] From the practical standpoint, though, the
use of the term “joy” to describe our difficulties seems rather odd. We rightfully look upon our earthly
difficulties as hindrances and obstacles.
James insists that we rise above this limited perspective—true as it
is—but look for the broader context that can change its ultimate
significance. Notice the conditionality:
“count it all joy” or “consider
it all joy” (NASB). The need to
encourage the mind frame argues strongly that this is not the normal way
we would treat it. The way we would
express the concept today would probably be along the line of the CEV’s
rendering, “My friends, be glad, even if you have a lot of trouble.”
[Page 325] Of course James has no
intention of being blind to reality—there is pain and sorrow in
adversity. James does not deny that the
process is either uncomfortable or difficult; that would be to deny the
reality.[2]
But there is also the paradoxical reason to take a certain pride
(“joy”) in it as well—if it is because of one’s faithfulness to God in
what one believes and in how one acts.
Or if one is singled out unjustly as a target by others and there is
simply no justification for it. This
latter situation is the aspect James chooses to stress. He speaks of those who will treat us with
snobbery because we are poorer (2:1-13) and those who will go so far as cheat
us of our wages and do physical harm (5:1-6).
James insists that we should at least equally look upon these as
psychological and moral opportunities.
He promptly spells out the reason for this seemingly improbable
attitude: they provide opportunities for
growth (1:3-4). He is not a
psychological masochist; instead, he looks beyond the pain and sees the potential
virtues and possibilities that grow out of short term difficulties. Instead of destroying our faith, it can
deepen our faith and make it more well grounded.[3]
Hence it
is not the suffering itself that is joyful but the consequences that can grow
out of it.[4] We have pain now because of persecution, for
example, but we have the reward for it in heaven. Not to mention respect and encouragement from
other believers as we undergo it and for having successfully endured it. The “Cowardly Lion” (cf. the Wizard of Oz)
suddenly discovers he now has a heart of steel, that he is brave and can
survive whatever happens. What was
intended to break you has actually strengthened you.
[Page 326] A
fine commentary on what James is driving at can be found in the writings of the
apostle Paul, “And we know that all things work together for good to those who
love God, to those who are the called according to [His] purpose” (Romans
8:28). That doesn’t mean they will
“feel” good or be enjoyable, but that the end result will be a desirable
one. He stresses “the silver lining” in
the dark and tumultuous clouds of trial that we encounter.[5]
Indeed, when we consider James’
remark in light of the following verses a somewhat similar sentiment is clearly
in his mind as well: “2 My brethren,
count it all joy when you fall into various trials, 3 knowing
that the testing of your faith produces patience. 4 But let patience have its perfect work, that you may
be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.”
Or as
There is an
alternative interpretive way to look at the difficulties of life James is
describing. It isn’t fashionable
at the moment, but it once was—and since bad ideas never stay dead but for so
long, it will surely come into favor once again. This shifts the joy
from adversity being derived from the assured outcome to the pain itself
being the cause for joy. As John
Painter wisely puts it,[6]
We must not mistake this [joy] for some
form of masochism. James is neither
asking the reader to enjoy painful situations nor is he instructing the reader
to rejoice that “brother Ass” (St. Francis’s description of the human body) is [Page
327] being humbled or destroyed. James is not against the body nor for pain. Difficult situations just happen (therefore
one “falls” into various trials in 1:2).
It is the response that James is concerned with.
Another misguided approach is that
we enter trials and temptations willingly and on our own initiative and regard
it as particularly virtuous to do so—to throw ourselves into unneeded
trials. Think those Christians in the
second or third century who volunteered themselves for mistreatment and
potential death in the arena. Although
they were under no delusion as to what the outcome would be, weren’t they
actually involved in needless voluntary suicide?
The more modern mindframe is that
when we throw ourselves voluntarily into a situation that is faith or life
threatening—rather than having them imposed upon us by outside forces—that God
is going to specially protect us. To
give an extremely mild example: I once
knew a young man who was determined to share the gospel with all he knew at
“Christian coffee houses.” Unfortunately
for him he did not yet have the kind of knowledge level that would make him
more likely to benefit them rather than have their bent understandings
of Christianity lead him astray.
And so it happened. A tragedy
caused by good intentions triumphing over wisdom and prudence.
A lesson here: Before going into
serious battle, make sure your weapons are well polished and you are more than
skilled in using them. For sooner or
later—you will need them. Even
when dealing with folk who seem quite nice but, unfortunately, are far better
versed at defending their particular “twists” on faith than you may be on
untangling their arguments.
[Page 328] None of us is Superman or
Superwoman. That is mere pleasant
phantasy. Nor are we likely to be such
on a spiritual level either.
Consider
also this possibility being behind the text’s language: “Joyful” for the same reason a warrior
will take a certain pleasure in battle--because that battle embodies what all
the preparation has been for.
Strangely enough, the first acknowledgement of the
Reginald St. John Parry makes this kind
of point and applies it on a spiritual level.
Intellectually I can understand and appreciate it. On an emotional level, however, I can far
better appreciate the “joy” of physical combat than that of spiritual. One only endangers my body; the other my very
soul if things go wrong. So his analysis
I pass on without any further comment for your consideration,[7]
It is a “hard saying”
[here in James]. The anxious prayer
“lead us not into temptation,” contrasts strangely with the abrupt and bold
command to “count it all joy when ye meet manifold temptations.” Yet there is a true joy for the warrior when
he meets face to face the foe whom he has been directed to subjugate, in a
warfare that trains hand and eye and steels the nerve and tempers the
will. There [Page 329] is a joy for the servant when he is engaged
on the hardest task his master claims from him.
And for both, in warfare and service, moral
quality and effectiveness depend largely on the power of rejoicing in the
effort demanded. In fact this
exhortation is another instance of the singular penetration and truthfulness of
St. James’ treatment of the things of the human spirit, of psychological facts
and conditions. He always cuts deep, not
often perhaps deeper than in this demand.
Two final points to briefly
consider.
First,
the matter of disease as a trial. We should note that the kind of trials
mentioned in the epistle do not primarily include disease or physical
ailments / handicaps. Physical disease
comes in for a two verse passing mention (James
Surviving and learning from these are tests of our character while disease
and ongoing ailments are far more in the line of tests of our physical
body. The former is not totally
eliminated, especially when they become long term. Those, unquestionably, can try our
faith. Indeed, it may become a greater
test because it is harder to picture many forms of disease or illnesses as ever
ending—at least that is the situation for far too many sufferers.
[Page 330] Second, is it “trial”
or “temptation” that is involved? The Greek word that we have been discussing
as conveying the issue of “trials” is one that means “test”--hence the
reasonableness of “trial(s)” as a synonym--or “temptation.”[8] The KJV and older translations used
“temptations” in 1:2, while more recent renditions nearly always go for
“trials” or, occasionally, a synonym such as “troubles” (New Living
Translation) or “tested” (God’s Word).
Although facing adversity does
“tempt” us to despair and to give up, the more modern connotation of the term
is to tempt us to despair, give up, and do that very evil ourselves. Obviously imitation is not normally going to
be an option for either the poor man at church services (chapter 2) or the poor
abused farm worker (chapter 5).
Therefore “trial” seems the clear cut proper selection of terms.
1:9:
The social and agricultural context of
James’ teaching
on treatment of the poor:
the first century Palestinian economy and
how it encouraged poverty.
Centralization of agriculture and the
reduction of medium and small scale independent farmers. At estimated
90% plus of the population were agricultural workers. These ran the gauntlet of potential
types: farmers who worked their own
land, to those who rented space from others, to those who provided the paid
labor needed by the property owners.[9] Some modest size owners farmed the segment of
their property they could handle and leased the remainder out to one or more
tenant farmers.[10]
[Page 331] There is a general scholarly
consensus that before and during the first century A.D., the number and size of
large estates grew,[11] a
process that would have forced a growing number of people into the most
vulnerable category of farming personnel—landless and dependent upon the
willingness of others to hire them.
Resident farmers who had property to rent out might be harsh, but they
at least had personal experience of what was happening agriculturally and could
distinguish between hard luck tales and excuse giving.
In contrast, the economic elite commonly had farms in the countryside
while they themselves lived—and made their religious, social, and political
reputations—inside the cities.[12] Those of more modest levels did the same,
though you were far more likely to see a son in charge of the farm rather than
the hiring of a contractor or the appointed of a specific slave to the task.[13] Luke 15:11-32 (cf. verse 25 in particular)
has been cited as the example of a prosperous town dwelling farmer using his
son to manage the work.[14] Luke 20:9-16 appears to be a case of
sharecroppers[15]
with the actual owner living at a considerable distance.
The larger the ownership, the less likely for more than a minimum of
exposure to actual conditions. Not to
mention a maximum concern with the “bottom line” regardless of how real
life problems and growing difficulties affected production. To such hands-off individuals, contempt for
the poor agricultural classes and the willingness to abuse them were natural
results. Under these conditions, it was
easy for those lowest on the agricultural totem pole to be treated as nothing
better than any slaves being used.[16]
Agreements to work for another might be for as little as a day and a
small land owner might even do that himself for supplementary income.[17] Landless individuals would hire themselves
out for extended periods of time, the maximum permitted under traditionally
understood Jewish custom being for six years.[18]
[Page 332] The individual hired for the
day got their cash immediately. The
person hired for a lengthier period of time might well have to wait
considerably longer because of the nature of the job. In that case the economic impact would be
even more savage if cheated out of part or all of what was due. Hamel Gildas provides a concise summary of
the different job opportunities that were available according to talent,
opportunity, and social/physical relationship to the owner:[19]
There were great
differences between laborers hired by the day or even the hour, and workers
needed in year-round occupations—for instance, hoeing, the care of trees,
guarding the crops—who were hired by the season or even the year. Poor
relatives and neighbors allowed by custom to glean in the fields after the
harvest had perhaps the least secure form of work, whereas workers having long term
arrangements with landowners were in a situation not very different from that
of sharecroppers. Among the more stable kinds of workers were the diggers,
measurers, and guards, whose salary in kind, paid on the threshing-floor at
harvest time, was shared by owner and sharecropper. Some of these workers could be sharecroppers
and petty landowners who needed to supplement their income or whose contract
included services on their landowner’s estate.
[Page 333] There would be times when not
as much labor was needed as at other times during the farm year and other times
when as much could be used as could be hired.
The latter situation is described in the parable in Matthew 20 about how
“a landowner went out early in the morning to hire laborers” (verse 1) and
returned to the spot several times during the day to see who else had become
available. This story argues that all
decent size communities had certain places where day laborers would gather to
be hired. (A not uncommon situation in
the late twentieth century in many places in the
The wage level of one denarius a day appears to have been the fairly
standard rate of pay for the period.[20] Talmudic references mention a laborer and a
dovecatcher, however, who earned only half that—a victoriatus.[21] With only a modest wage level, receiving it
when promised was a matter of the greatest concern.
Of course wages could come in more than cash. Indeed, for some jobs such probably
constituted the bulk of it. Matthew
10:10 and Jesus’ instruction to those going out under the Limited Commission have
been pointed to as reasonable evidence for this (“a worker is worthy of his
food”). Likewise the prodigal son’s
remark in Luke
In harvest season, this portion may well have included grain from the
new crop itself. The Mishnah—the early
part of the Talmud--refers to how some workers would be provided a place to
stay as well, presumably because of the distance they had traveled.[23]
The way agricultural production was centralized marginalized many who,
at an earlier time, would not have been under anywhere near as much financial
strain. That the proportion of such
individuals was so high makes James’ stress on their treatment quite natural: they were everywhere and, outside the cities,
they represented the vast bulk of the population. Surviving but by a treacherously narrow
margin.
[Page 334] To add to the strain, in much
of the land there was no question of bringing new acreage into production. Virtually everything potentially cultivatable
was already so, eliminating the option of opening up new land. Josephus (supported by archaeological
evidence) describes
Crops. The crops were those usable either on a
personal basis or practical for sale to others:[25]
The principal products included grain
(wheat, barley, millet and rice), vegetables (onions, garlic, leeks, squashes,
cabbages, radishes and beets), fruits (olives, grapes, figs and dates), legumes
(lentils and beans), spices (salt, pepper and ginger), and meat (fish, cows,
oxen, lambs, goats . . .). The peasant's diet consisted mainly of bread and
salt, along with olives, oil, onions and perhaps some grapes. . . .
The Mishnah and Talmud mention “164 different types of irrigated and
non-irrigated crops in the Jewish farmstead” of the era.[26]
Naturally, planting and harvest times varied according to the
particular product and where within the land the property was located,[27]
[Page 335]
Generally speaking wheat grew from late
October or early November till harvest in May or June (Shavuot). Barley was planted at [the] same time as
wheat but harvested a month earlier
(Passover, Feast of the First Fruits).
The grape harvest began toward the end of August or in September and the
olive harvest from September to December (both of which are incorporated in
Succoth). The Shephelah and
From the economic foundation of the
countryside, its revenues in the form of produce, tithes, taxes (of a wide
variety), and any rents poured into the cities, especially
International trade. How much
long distance trade existed has been the topic of considerable debate. Josephus insisted that such was essentially
alien to the land, “As for ourselves . . . we neither inhabit a maritime
country, nor do we delight in merchandise, nor in such a mixture with other men
as arises from it; but the cities we dwell in are remote from the sea, and having
a fruitful country for our habitation, we take pains in cultivating that only.”[29]
Although there was much truth to
this, it should be noted that ancient authors chronically stressed the
importance of agriculture and downplayed the role of regional [Page 336] and international trade.[30] That had become the accepted societal
self-portrait. The social snobbery of
advanced Roman rank—senators and equestrians in particular—demanded that one
publicly dismiss trade as beneath their dignity, even if actual practice shows
that they had some degree of connection in spite of their professions of
disgruntlement and social pretentiousness.[31]
Josephus speaks of grain imports
from Egypt in times of local shortages,[32]
showing that his remarks concerning trade carry the connotation that it was
normally minimal or modest rather than non-existent. And there is, of course, a major difference
between such emergencies and the normal movement of freight that would be
expected. Archaeological discoveries and
references in rabbinic literature argue for a wide variety of first century
imports and exports,[33]
though that is a far different statement than insisting than the volume was on
the scale of various other regions, especially Italy.
The Letter of Aristeas
(theoretically describing the situation as of c. 250 B.C. or before but
typically dated as actually written 100-200 B.C.) insists, “A great quantity of
spices and precious stones and gold is brought into the country by the
Arabs. For the country is well adapted
not only for agriculture but also for commerce, and the city is rich in the
arts and lacks none of the merchandise which is brought across the sea.”[34]
Trade goes to where the money is.
As to exports from geographic
In the normal sense of “exports,” however,
was the large scale exportation of fish.
These were shipped either pickled or salted, not to mention drawing large
scale sales from within the land. As
Elizabeth McNamer explains,[37]
Much of the catch was
taken to Magdala. Salting of fish for
preservation had been in vogue since the time of the Ptolemies. The
center of
this industry was Magdala, where fish was dried and exported to various
parts of the
dried fish.
There, the fish would
be packed in baskets for export and the
fishermen would take it on wagons pulled by mules to shops in
to a seaport where they would be loaded on ships and taken to
fish from
We know, too, that fish from
Fishing in
protein, and the market for fish extensive. . . . The ordinary masses
depended
on fish along with bread as a staple food. Satisfying the epicurean
appetites
of the upper classes at home and abroad with dried fish was a
profitable
business.
[Page 338]
Taxes. Between obligatory Jewish religious
obligations, customs charges, and official taxes of various and varying sorts,
one could anticipate paying 40% of one’s income.[38] Whether farmer, merchant, or small scale
manufacturer, it would be safe to say that whenever your product moved,
it was taxed—time and time again: in
harbors, at bridges, at town entrances, at any and all types of
boundaries. Pliny rightly described the
situation: “At every stopping place by
land or sea, some tax was levied.”[39]
As to the percentage that was paid out in these various forms, scholars
often cite that 40% figure but rarely make an effort to explain how it is
derived. One dissenter notes how
estimates may vary downward from it, however,[40] “In Sanders' (1992:146-69) calculation, which
seems reasonable, the estimated total burden on the average peasant (assuming a
12.5% yearly land tax including taxes and tithes) was no more than 28% in most
years and, in the worst case scenario, a total of about 33%, considerably less
than Horsley's calculation of well over 40% for the average peasant each year.”
It would be an exaggeration to go so far as say that if it existed
it was taxed—but it would not be a massive exaggeration either. Speaking of
[Page 339]
In
Roman times the government seems to have claimed the fishing
rights in the rivers and lakes, and to have gained revenue from this
source.
Customs were also collected on the trade routes. Levi was such a collector in
tolls. . . .
No doubt in Antipas’
administration, as in his father’s, there were
other taxes such as purchase and sales taxes. During the first and second
centuries there was a sales tax on slaves, oil, clothes, hides, furs,
and other
valuable commodities in
workshops, on butchery, on prostitution, on the use of water in the
city, and
a pasturing tax on the beasts of foreigners in that city. “It is probable, if not
almost certain, that similar taxes were levied throughout the whole
Roman
Near East.” Since this was an
independent city not under direct Roman
taxation, a similar system may have existed in Antipas’ cities and
lands.
In fact can one imagine an alert tax official not successfully
invoking any tax that it was practical to collect? Governments in all ages have rarely thought
that they were bringing in “enough.” The
urge for either tax rate increases or taxation on yet more items is inevitable
it seems.
The
Roman tax component. We know that Judaea garnered 600 talents a
year (for 6-41 and 44-66 A.D. at least), but there is no certainty whether that
was the entire amount or constituted only the Roman land taxes imposed
upon the province.[42] Whichever way, they wanted a specific
amount and the locals were expected to provide it in good year and bad; the
Jewish system was proportional, relieving at least some pressure.[43]
[Page 340] The Jewish tax component. Every male had to provide annually a temple
tax of one Tyrian didrachma.[44] We think of the tithe (10%) being given
voluntarily; in the first century, where practical, the priesthood intervened
to extract it under their direct supervision or that of agents working for
them.[45] Hence the priesthood had its own functional
tax system in place at the same time as the Romans and both sides had to
operate in a manner that did not unduly upset the other.
This was purely
utilitarian, of course; within that Standard Operating Procedure of
minimum aggravation they both operated with the goal of revenue
maximization. Furthermore both sides,
realistically, needed each other. For
example, the religious establishment needed protection for their new and
accumulated wealth if things got too much out of hand. The Romans, for the other’s knowledge of the
peculiarities of local custom such as property size measurement. (Acreage per se was not used; measurement was
in terms of how much seed could/should be utilized on a piece of property.)[46]
Roman tax farming. The
government itself did not collect the taxes, a system that was maintained when
the Romans took direct control.
Customarily the government would get the money “up front” and the tax
collectors (= publicans) would do the work of getting the money out of the
citizenry. There was no IRS to burden,
annoy, and harass the citizenry. Instead
there was “tax farming” in which wealthy individuals would combine to buy the
right to collect taxes.
[Page 341] Perhaps the closest 21st
century parallel would be a bill collection agency—one of those which are not
particularly scrupulous in what they say or do to get the money out of you and
which governments often seem unable or
unwilling to control.
Harold W. Hoehner provides this summary of conditions in the first
century in Galilee and Judaea,[47]
So numerous were they
that it is improbable that they were all very
rich. In fact Luke has to specify
that Zacchaeus was not only an [publican]
but also very rich (Luke 19:2).
They seem for the most part to have been
contractors or small farmers, collecting one form of tax in a town or
small
district. From the example of
Levi it would seem that each had his own tax
office where he collected his particular tax.
By law they were
permitted to collect a certain duty, but in many
instances they illegally collected more than the proper amount. Though not
permitted to exact arrears, they could denounce and accuse defaulters
before
the officers of the state, and sometimes they gained money illegally by
false
accusations. . . . This is why
they were so often classified with sinners,
harlots, robbers, and Gentiles.
They were hated because they used
unscrupulous means for extorting more money than allowed, and pocketing
the excess amount.
If the tax collecting techniques and amounts were not bad enough, it
added a kind of insult to injury that wealthy Sadducees played a major role in
the tax collecting syndicates of
[Page 342] To maintain their status
required maintaining good ties with the Romans, who were responsible for so
much of the tax load. Yet this
cooperation (co-opting?) assured a degree of ambiguity in popular attitudes
toward the religious faction that was in control of the
Publicans were also used to collect
taxes in
In
[Page 343]
Why would the rich person take pride “in
his humiliation” of passing away
like “a flower of the field?”
Taking
this as a reference to after death: It is easy to see why the “lowly brother” in
verse 9 would take pride in his or her ultimate “exaltation” by God when
ultimate rewards are given for faithfulness.
It is harder to understand why the well-to-do believer would find much
to be happy about in the reality of his passing away at death (verse 11).
Whatever blessings heaven will unquestionably add, he already
has a pleasant and comfortable life. One
whose joys and pleasures he knows first hand and by experience. What comes next he knows only by faith and
would not there be at least a minor degree of trepidation because they have not
seen it themselves?
Some have answered this by noting
that the text does not explicitly label this rich person a “brother.”[50] If one interprets it as the unrighteous
individual (= who is a non-believer) then irony is clearly intended. The meaning would then be something along the
line of, “the rich may boast in his humiliation, if he can!”[51] The problem is there is no “if he can”
involved: The unbelieving rich won’t
even be considering his death and status loss as a possible good thing. It is simply too far beyond his way of
thinking.[52]
Another way is to work from the
assumption that he will actually be horrified at the loss and James, in no way,
expects—or anticipates—anything else. It
is totally ironic; the wealthy person will find nothing of value
in it and the words are to be taken as blatant (though justified) cynicism
about the future.[53]
To take this one step further and with a more positive spin to it, the
difference might well be between the worldly rich who will lose all and have their
pride annihilated and the Christian wealthy who will lose all but still
find an exaltation or praise—not because of wealth, but due to their loyalty to
Christ. Loyalty in spite of their
wealth which could easily have steered them in a very different direction.
[Page 344] In
more immediate terms, even the person who is a wealthy Christian might well
find a certain comfort even in death.
Not all, but a surprising number.
When a wealthy person became converted he would be particularly
vulnerable--because of his or her public status--to economic loss.[54] Why should one’s friends pass on business
opportunities to such a person? There
would be a degree of “social stigma” attached as well.[55]
Poor people were expected to act like “fools;” wealthier individuals were
expected to know better. Hence death could,
paradoxically, be a loss of his earthly standing while simultaneously removing
more than a few ongoing pressures from his back.
Taking
this as a reference to what happens on this earth: Yet another approach
is to argue that the poor person is to take pride when he comes into earthly
abundance and remains faithful.[56] There is no reason for him to be ashamed if
it has been honorably obtained.
But the pride comes in the successful transition from one status to
something dramatically different for many simply can’t handle it
successfully. The poor individual is to
glory (take pride) because he has been able to maintain Christian faith in
spite of the special temptations that come with his new earthly importance.
The wealthy Christian is to glory in his future plummeting into
(comparative) poverty—he is no longer of the elite but simply one of the
multitude--because he has been able to maintain his faith not only in the days
when riches shielded him from many of the turmoils in life, but even
afterwards--when these were lacking and he had to face the worst of life
knowing that the only person he could count on was God.[57]
[Page 345] Admittedly, this approach is
intriguing. The probability of a
dramatic increase in one’s earthly status was minimal, however; the possibility
of a dramatic decrease more possible but not a major danger. Not impossible, but improbable enough that it
seems an unlikely point to be making.
James seems to have in mind something that is inevitable and that will
happen to all. Hence a death context
seems far preferable to this approach.
Does God never tempt mankind?
If God is of an uncompromisable nature Himself (see Old Testament precedent
section in the previous chapter), why in the world would He set out to injure
those trying to follow Him by putting them in situations where His hope and
intention is that they fail—rather than vindicate His trust in them by showing
themselves steadfast? Perhaps based on
such passages as noted in the preceding chapter, Sirach had the same conviction
as James, “Say not: ‘It was God’s doing
that I fell away;’ for what He hates He does not do. Say not:
‘It was He who set me astray;’ for He has no need of wicked man” (Sirach
/ Ecclesiasticus
[Page 346] Yet
there are passages in the Old Testament that seem to point, at least
partly, in a different direction. Hence
one might argue that the scriptures are of two minds as to the relationship of
God to temptation: on the one hand repudiating His being behind it, while in
other cases indicating that His hand could be very definitely present—in
particular in Genesis 22:1-2 where we read that
“God did tempt Abraham” (KJV).
Assuming that God really does “tempt” a person there are
several approaches that would minimize or eliminate any contradiction with our
James passage.
Generalization
versus specific. Though a thing may be true in a hundred cases,
in the hundred-and-first it may not be.
Likewise God may not normally or usually tempt a human being--as in our
James text--yet there might be situations in which He chooses to act
differently. The generalization
would remain non-tempting, but generalizations--by their very nature--leave
room for exceptions. As in Genesis
22:1-2 and Matthew 6:13. This is not empty “harmonizing” of texts; it reflects
a basic reality of existence.
There is also a profound difference between God
“causing” temptation by putting us in the place or situation it occurs and
being the individual or event that actually tempts us. In the former case, God is
still not the direct agent of temptation and to say He “causes” it is only
technically true rather than using “cause” in its usual sense of direct
cause.
That God may indeed put a person in a situation that at least
potentially tempts the individual to transgression seems to be clearly stated: Matthew
[Page 347] What is likely alluded to in
Matthew
That still does not mean that He personally tempts us except in
this very limited sense of putting us in a place where it will
occur. Even then He leaves the
temptation to someone/something else.
And it is very questionable whether the term “tempts” applies even here
since God’s nature is such that He always wishes us to triumph over the
situation. In contrast, Satan always
wishes us to fail and it is for that reason the negative freighted word
“temptation” is used in his connection.
The Forty Days of Temptation in the wilderness has been cited as an
example of dual usage events. It was
designed—by its prolonged length of time alone—to be a testing of Jesus. We are specifically told that God used the
Spirit to bring Jesus into the wilderness (Matthew 4:1). But the Devil is pictured as the one turning
it into a time of temptation (in its usual, negative sense) as well.
Hence we may face a trial from God or a temptation from Satan (or our
own inner moral weaknesses). Indeed, Ray
Pritchard uses the Forty Days to illustrate that an event can be both a
“trial” and a “temptation” at the same time:[59]
[Page 348]
God uses it to accomplish one thing in your
life and Satan at the very same time is working through that event to try to
accomplish something diametrically opposite.
Very often God allows a trial to come for a positive purpose, but Satan
tries to co-opt it for his own evil reasons. . . . Was God tempting his own Son? No, He
wasn’t. Was God putting His son in a
place where his Son could be tempted by the Devil? The answer to that
must be yes.
(Others prefer to argue that what we have in Matthew 6 is not really a
plea that God not do this, but that He prevent it from
occurring. “The literal meaning of the
phrase "lead us not into" is "don't permit us to be lead into
(i.e. keep us from being lead into).”[60])
It
should also be stressed that there is a difference between the outward source of temptation and the inward:
Perhaps God places us in a situation
where we will be exposed to the former, but God never is the source of our inward weakness itself. If the inward
aspect is intended, then God is never the source of our temptation; if the
former and very different sense, then God is a causative element in what
happens. But “cause” would clearly be
used in two drastically different senses between “God causing” the
opportunity to be tempted and whatever weakness that is exploited by the temptation.
When God instructed Abraham to sacrifice the child, God was,
indeed, in a sense, doing the “tempting”—but directly and aboveboard,
unequivocally. But that isn’t how
temptation normally worked even in Abraham’s life. Hence a difference in the usual meaning of
“tempt” and “temptation” must be made between this event and normal lifestyle
temptations.
[Page 349] At the most, the inward temptation is not created because
God has somehow entered our hearts and pushed us toward sin. It is, rather, that at the most He has
provided the opportunity for it and left us to our own decision whether
to go one inch further. The decision to
do that is the result of a weakness we have permitted within us
or even allowed to grow and prosper rather than being eliminated; that is what
makes us vulnerable.[61] What turns potential into reality.
The inward impetus comes strictly from our own limitations,
preferences, and lack of spiritual development. Without those being present the
external temptation would have little or no power or be of danger to us. Since the answer of what we decide to do is
from within ourselves and not imposed upon us, it makes more sense to say that
God only “tests”--for He wishes us to do the right thing. In contrast the Devil always wants us to do
the wrong thing; from him the very same testing would be designed as a
“temptation,” for He wishes us to fail the test.
(Even if we believe that all our moral weaknesses partially
derive from a genetic basis, this basic point remains true—it is we ourselves
who transform a “nuisance” into a major problem by repeatedly indulging that
weakness. [All makes a whole lot
better inherent sense than to just latch on one or two or three and claim that
these are unique cases.] God
designed them to keep us humble and all too aware of our limitations. Instead we subvert that purpose into an
excuse for indulgence. What causes us to
sin is our yielding to our own inflamed pattern of indulgence.
(The distinction between what
God does and wants and our unwisely invoking our inherent “freedom to choose to
sin” remains a grim reality. External
temptations tap into that reservoir in this approach as well--rather than
reflecting any preference by God for us to act in that manner.)
[Page 350]
Even if God were to “lead us into
temptation,” He has also promised a way out of it as well. In other words, He does not leave
us trapped with no way to avoid the sin.
1 Corinthians 10:13 puts it this way, “No temptation has
overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will
not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation
will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it.”
Hence, if God were to put us into a situation where we will be tempted
to do evil, He will also provide us a way to avoid it. If God “leads us” into a sin but also
provides us a way out of it, is what God does best and most accurately described
as a “tempting” or a “testing” of us? Has
He not left which it will be up to our decision and ours alone?
If our evaluation of God’s character is that, in such cases, He really
wants us to fail, then “tempting” would be the obvious description. If our evaluation, on the basis of 1
Corinthians 10:13, for example, is that He really wants us to make our way out
as well--then “testing” would be the most accurate label for what has happened.
Assuming that God really never “tempts” a person there are several approaches that would
minimize or eliminate any contradiction with our James text. (There
will be overlap between what we present here and what we have already covered,
since the points are relevant in both contexts.)
[Page 351] The important distinction between “tempting” and “testing.” “Test” is a value neutral term; it
stresses the fact that one is undergoing an experience that will reveal
what is our true or ultimate nature or of what are our higher priorities—it
does not, inherently, impose a required outcome. A “test” of a certain type, for example, will
show whether we have a higher priority on obeying God or having promiscuous sex: “If it moves have sex with it” (a mild
exaggeration that still seems as accurate today as back in the late 1960s when
this lifestyle began to break into public acceptability).
In contrast “tempt” implies that the desired result is our
failure, of our doing the wrong thing in God’s sight. The difference between the two lies in motive. God “tests” to assure that we meet His
standards and to assure our spiritual growth; in contrast Satan ‘tempts” in the
hope to do us injury. Even when the
external objective means are the same, the underlying intent is
far different. Hence applying “tempt,”
with its negative implications, is surely inappropriate in such a context as
this.
Even if
the word “tempt” is used, the actual
meaning of the Hebrew term in Genesis 22 argues against that translation and
the usage in other texts proves it is not the exclusive meaning. Eric Lyons
has written this concise but detailed analysis in responding to the arguments
of Dan Barker,[62]
Barker formulated his argument based upon
the King James Version and only one meaning of the
Hebrew word (nissâ) found in Genesis 22:1. Although the word can mean
“to tempt,” the first two meanings that Brown, Driver, and Briggs give for nissâ
in their Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament is “to test,
to try” (1993).
[Page 352]
Likewise, the Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament (1997)
defines the word simply “to test” (Jenni and Westermann, 1997, 2:741-742). The Theological
Dictionary of the Old Testament agrees that nissâ is best
translated, whether in secular or theological contexts, as “testing”
(Botterweck, et al., 1998, 9:443-455).
For this reason, virtually all major
translations in recent times, including the NKJV, NASB, ESV, NIV, and RSV,
translate Genesis 22:1 using the term “tested,” not tempted.
When David put on the armor of King Saul
prior to battling Goliath, the shepherd realized: “I cannot walk with these,
for I have not tested (nissâ) them” (1 Samuel
God led
Notice also the contrast in Exodus
[Page 353]
Laying aside the critical issue of proper
word usage in Genesis 22, even without
that decisive solution being available, would the text require the tempting
to sin scenario be the right interpretation, the one skeptics wish? Some have argued that when God instructed
Abraham to offer his son, it was such a severe and demanding order that it has
to take the connotation of “temptation to do evil.” Now if Abraham had, say,
three sons and the command had been given to sacrifice one of them the argument
would make more sense: there would have
been the element of having to personally choose who should die rather
than making the “simple” decision of whether to obey or not.
Here, however, there was only one
son. Balanced against that was the
pledge that his descendants would possess the Promised Land. Without that son there would be no descendants! How could God do both: have him offer his son and still give
the Promised Land?
Logically those are incompatible concepts. Hence what happened was a test of
Abraham—to see whether he believed God could do the impossible.
And, of course, God did. By stopping the sacrifice at the last minute. Of course, He could have done it by
permitting the sacrifice and then literally raising the son from the dead. (Hebrews 11:17-19 argues that Abraham
recognized that God had the power to do so.)
Either way, it was about the most extreme test that could be
given to the patriarch. To test his
faith that God could and would carry out all His promises. Even when His instructions seemed to make it
impossible!
We would also note that “temptation”
normally has the connotation of yielding to human weakness. One could argue that Abraham was tempted by
the human desire to preserve his son. We
concede that as far as it goes, that is true.
[Page 354] On the other hand, as we’ve
just shown, far more than this was involved. The danger of death was a distant secondary
factor to this one: It was a test of how
much He believed God, whether He was able to make the land promise come through
in spite of the son’s death. If God
truly could accomplish that, then death was merely a temporary, if shocking
diversion. Abraham clearly concluded God
would somehow make it work--and acted accordingly.
The difference between a temptation
and a test is that if we yield to the temptation we have capitulated to our
worst instincts, not our best. If we pass
a Divine test, however, it shows that we have yielded to our best
instincts, that of the human obligation of obedience to God—inherently a
positive trait (when carried out) rather than a negative one as found in
yielding to temptation. For this
reason also it seems inappropriate to label the motive out of which God
acted—and what faced Abraham--as a “temptation” rather than a “test.”
Word usage bends according to
context and historical setting. In this
one, “testing” clearly fits best even if we did not have the impressive
evidence of original word meaning.
Others
retain the sense of “test” by putting on the text an interpretive gloss on
James 1:13. Although “tempt” and “testing” are two well
recognized alternate meanings of the same Greek term, this question is not involved
in certain other approaches one might take.
One commentator, for example, puts this gloss on the text, “When a
person is testing himself, he must not say, ‘I am being tested by God’ etc.”[63]
[Page 355] The
commentator’s belief seems to be that Christians were intentionally exposing
themselves to temptation as a test of their faithfulness. Perhaps my hesitancy here arises from the
fact that there is nothing in the passage to suggest that this form of testing
is specifically in mind. It would
certainly be one thing covered by the text—but all of it?
Even so he does raise a legitimate
point that we might wish to gloss over: we
can tempt ourselves. That certainly fits well with the following
two verses: “14 But
each one is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed. 15 Then, when desire has conceived, it gives birth to
sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, brings forth death.”
When we put ourselves in a situation we know will tempt our worst instincts,
aren’t we really guilty of tempting ourselves?
Others will tempt us to do the wrong thing, that is certainly
true. But aren’t the ones closest to
guaranteed success those we voluntarily expose ourselves to?
If we have a problem with alcohol, isn’t our inner debate of whether to
stop at the nearest bar on the way home simply another way to “accidentally”
cause ourselves to over-indulge? Or if
we have a problem with sexual loyalty to our spouse, when we debate with
ourselves about making an “innocent” phone call to a good looking co-worker,
what are we really encouraging ourselves to do?
Did
James reject the concept of Satan leading us into sin? John Painter seems assured that this was the
case, “Not only does James reject the notion that God is responsible for this
testing, no suggestion is made that the devil is the source of this
testing.” Instead he puts the blame
wholly on us humans.[64]
[Page 356] If
James wishes to put our own responsibility front and center, what better way is
there to do it than with the verbal formulation he chooses? This is in no way either an embracing
or a rejection of the idea that Satan will use our own weaknesses against
us. But in the final analysis it is simply
the assertion that it is we ourselves who make the actual decision. Satan may tempt, but we decide.
In my preaching days I sometimes
made the observation, “Satan doesn’t buy any person’s soul. They give it—voluntarily.” James is doing the same thing I did: putting individual responsibility front and
center. Whatever role Satan has, doesn’t
remove one iota how we react to that temptation.
In the real world, we do so much of his work for him that we can’t
usually blame the problem on anything but our own, personal weakness. Is he not far more often our cheerleader in
evil rather than our actual tempter?
(Perhaps you would prefer a different verbal formulation, but I have no
doubt that most readers grasp that this is not a denigration of Satan’s power—how
foolhardy that would be!—but simply putting our own responsibility front
and center as James does.)
[Page 357]
What is the “perfect law of liberty”?
(“Perfect law of freedom,” Holman, ISV;
“perfect law that gives freedom,” NIV;
“the perfect law that sets people free,” TEV;
“the true law which makes him free,” BBE.)
The expression “law of liberty” is found in both James
Interpreted as a reference to the Old
Testament—at least its core moral tradition. A traditionalist Jew might well take these as
references to the Old Testament (consider the texts examined in the Old
Testament roots chapter). Although we
look back upon the ceremonies and rituals as constituting a kind of “bondage,”
it was recognized that heeding the Torah--at least over all--did produce
a vital degree of liberty that would not otherwise be enjoyed. Psalms 119:45 expresses the concept, “And I
will walk at liberty, for I seek Your precepts.” The ceremonial aspect might burden and be
impossible of perfect obedience; yet the law itself provided blessings promised
to none who followed the polytheistic alternatives of antiquity.
On the basis of such Torah and
prophetic teaching, it is not surprising to find one talmudic source insisting,
“No man is free but he who labors in the Torah.”[65] Another such source proclaims, “He that takes
upon himself the yoke of the law, from him shall be taken away the yoke of the
kingdom and the yoke of worldly care.”[66]
The Old Testament describes the
Torah in terms of perfection or completeness as well. “The law of the Lord is perfect, converting
the soul,” praised the Psalmist (19:7).
Some understand the reference as
equivalent to the moral code of the Old Testament in particular: “the Jewish scriptures understood as
instruction in wisdom for living a godly life.”[67] Another commentator sums up the idea more
concisely as “the moral teaching of the Torah.”[68]
Yet another implies that James specifically has in mind the Ten
Commandments.[69] One commentator points to the next chapter as
proof, “In chapter 2 James equates ‘law’ with the Decalogue (verses 10, 11) and
apparently refers to that code here also.”[70]
[Page 358] His argument would be even
stronger by bringing in verse 12 as well:
10 For whoever shall keep the whole
law, and yet stumble in one point, he is guilty of all. 11 For He
who said, "Do not commit adultery," also said, "Do not
murder." Now if you do not commit adultery, but you do murder, you have
become a transgressor of the law. 12 So speak and so do as those
who will be judged by the law of liberty.
Hence we have “law” as referring to elements of the Ten Commandments
and immediately after those references one to “the law of liberty,” the
subject of our discussion.
In behalf of this we must also
include the fact that the explicitly Christian elements of the epistle are
rarely front and center; they form the atmosphere and background for a book
that, by and large, could be accepted as valid counsel even by a very
traditionalist Jew of the first century.
If what is omitted from the Christian side of the ledger would make the
Torah-prophetic moral code a reasonable
frame of reference, the same conclusion is reached when we notice what is omitted
from the traditionalist Jewish side of the ledger: “there is no reference to institutional or
ceremonial Judaism, or to cardinal obligations of circumcision, the Sabbath,
and the whole regimen of ritual observance.”[71]
[Page 359]
Interpreted
as a reference to obedience to the Old Testament ritual system or to a combination of it and the moral system. John Painter insists that both the
“pure and undefiled” language and that of “unspotted from the world” is
language inherently applicable to keeping the required rituals and constitutes
a powerful argument for ritual purity being under discussion. At the least, it includes such even if
it is not exclusively what is in the author’s mind.[72]
The inherent problem, as noted in the previous section, is the total
absence of any clearly identifiable ritual aspect being discussed as
obligatory. If one concedes his
assertion that the language is ritual language, would not the more natural
conclusion be that one is ritually pure because of moral purity
and integrity and how one’s life is positively manifested in the world?
Painter reinforces his approach by
arguing that, “Indeed there was no characteristic linguistic distinction to
describe ritual and moral elements of the law.”[73] Yet did they not recognize a real life
difference between offering an animal and getting one out of a pit it had
fallen into (cf. Luke 14:3-5)? Did they
not recognize the difference between ceremonial impurity and the need to help a
dying man? Whether they developed a
“theology of difference” or not, surely they would have readily understood
the distinction.
More meaningful is the appeal to
James 2:10, “For whoever shall keep the whole law, and yet stumble in
one point, he is guilty of all.” Which
leads to the natural argument, “The assertion of the necessity to keep the
whole law does not suggest exemption from certain aspects of it.”[74] Absolutely.
[Page 360] But is that law the Old
Testament? Or, in light of the
actual examples James chooses to cite in the next verse, is it the moral
legislation of the Old Testament? Or
the Old Testament in light of the use of it established by the teaching
and example of Jesus—in effect, the Jesus altered (“Christianized”) system they
were expected to embrace as His followers?
(Which edges us up to it being what we today would call the New
Testament.)
Or is simply an argument from Divine law and the consequences of
its existence? Define it in any
of these senses and the conclusion would be the same: violating any part violated all of the
system.
Whether taken in the sense of the
moral core of the Old Testament (either the Ten Commandments or its
moral teachings regardless of where found) . . . or of the entire Old
Testament considered as a collective unit . . . the Psalms clearly refers to
obedience to the then existing Torah system as producing liberty (which
would, in effect, equate to it being a law of liberty),
41 Let Your mercies
come also to me, O Lord—Your salvation according to Your word. 42 So shall I have an answer for him who reproaches me, for I trust
in Your word. 43 And take not the word of truth
utterly out of my mouth, for I have hoped in Your ordinances. 44 So shall I keep Your law continually, forever and ever. 45 And I will walk at liberty, for I seek Your precepts. 46 I will speak of Your testimonies also before kings, and will not
be ashamed. 47 And I will delight myself in
Your commandments, which I love. 48 My hands also I will lift up to
Your commandments, which I love, and I will meditate on Your statutes (Psalms
119).
[Page 361]
What is particularly fascinating is
that though the text is written broad enough to be a reference to even
the ritual texts of the Torah, there is absolutely nothing in it to
suggest that those particular aspects are in mind. At least as far as how we would
express meanings, the wording cries out for a moral and behavioral based
framework being in mind.
Interpreting
the phrase as a reference to New Testament teaching. There is
much to be said for a Jesus’ teaching and apostolic frame of reference (since
they preserved and spread that teaching).
In James 2, the expression “law of liberty” comes immediately before a
rebuke of merciless judging (
Others simply note the
limiting/restrictive nature of the Old Testament as described in other passages
(such as Galatians 4:25 and Romans 8:2) and conclude that the phrase must refer
to “the teaching of Jesus” due to the inappropriateness of the Old Testament
being the intended framework.[76]
In this connection it has been
pointed out that there are explicit and implicit New Testament teachings concerning
there being a distinctive law of Christ—a law that makes salvation not a mere
promise but an accomplished reality.
While also freeing us from what are commonly called the “ceremonial”
burdens of the older religious system.
[Page 362] One
writer argues this concisely in what originally appeared as a newspaper ad:[77]
Actually, we are under law (not "the
law," Mosaic Code), [but] "law to Christ" (1 Corinthians
Beloved, Christ's law is a perfect law of
liberty. It is perfect or complete in
that it is a system which contains laws and commandments which are not grievous,
and yet, it is a system of grace and liberty (1 John 5: 3; Galatians 5:
1-13). We have liberty from sin when we
obey it (Acts
In this commentator’s judgement, James’ reference is to what we today
call the New Testament (and is called the “gospel” within that volume).[78]
The prophets before Jesus had
been known to repeatedly demand that the masses return to the faithful practice
of the Torah. Yet Jeremiah 31:31-34
spoke in terms of the day when a new covenant would be instituted
between God and the human race. Having
been raised in a Torah heritage, it was the assumption of the apostles and
other early Christians that the gospel of and about Jesus that they taught was
this new covenant. Hence they would have
found no difficulty in referring to their system of beliefs as either a new
“law” or “covenant.”
[Page 363]
Alternatively--since James is preoccupied with moral behavior--he could
have in mind the moral demands of the Torah that are continued in the gospel.
Assuming (1) that the epistle
comes from an extremely early date (within say a decade of the resurrection) and
(2) that the thrust is so clearly ethical rather than doctrinal . . . then the
lack of specificity as to what “law” is under consideration makes a
great deal of sense.
Whether traditionalist or a “Jesus Jew,” he might well regard it as
vital to make readers of both persuasions recognize that evil is evil
regardless of one’s theology. The pious
traditionalist might become a Christian tomorrow, but unless he took his
religion seriously enough to live it, the odds were against his becoming any
more interested in the new faith than he had been in the old one. Because of the lack of commitment neither
was of any real “relevance” to his or her true spirituality.
If the “law of liberty” is, effectively, the New Testament
how do we explain such rhetoric as in Psalms 19 and 119?
Psalms
19:7: “The law of the Lord is perfect,
converting the soul.” It is
perfectly / completely able to change one’s nature or life—“converting” one
from recklessness and rebellion to constructive service. But there were things it could not or did not
do.
For one thing one was born into it;
the proverbial “accident of birth”—who were your parents—determined whether you
would be a Jew or not and whether you would be subject to that law or not. So whatever “perfection” it had was inherently
limited to one part of the human race.
[Page 364] In contrast, the law of Christ
was never imposed by the accident of birth; it was designed as one you voluntarily
accepted and embraced and was designed to be open to the entire species (cf.
the world wide Great Commission in Matthew 28:18-20). This was something the law of Moses was never
set up to do.
True, it was “perfect” to do
everything it was set up to do, but the gospel is described as having been
established to do even more. Although
the Old Testament sacrifices are described as if giving forgiveness for
sin, the Hebrews writer depicts it as inherently impossible to obtain until
there was the offering of the body of Christ as well (Hebrews 10:1-17)—hence
the image sometimes used of Old Testament sins being “rolled forward.”
Whether that particular image is embraced or not, the Hebrews author’s
reasoning is surely sound: if the animal
sacrifices could accomplish complete, permanent forgiveness there would have
been an ending to sacrifice (10:2). With
Jesus there was—it was the only one time sacrifice that could do it all,
that never needed to be repeated again (
Psalms
119:45: “And I will walk at liberty, for
I seek Your precepts.” The
way the text is worded shows that he has in mind his personal benefits from the
law, “And I will walk at liberty, for I seek Your precepts.” He is not giving an over all description of
what the entire law is, but of one specific aspect, of its
personal impact.
In contrast, the New Testament repeatedly goes to the confining and
limiting nature of that same law and stresses that with it the old limitations
have vanished. [Page 365] Hebrews 8 goes so far as to teach that “if
that first covenant had been faultless, then no place would have been sought
for a second” (verse 7) and proceeds to quote the promise of a new covenant in
Jeremiah 31 as being fulfilled in the New Testament age.
When faced with a strict Judaizing faction in the church that wanted to
bring over the old regulations, Paul rebuked them by contending, “Now
therefore, why do you test God by putting a yoke on the neck of the
disciples which neither our fathers nor we were able to bear?” (Acts
Hence, from the perspective of first generation Christians who accepted
that Pauline teaching, the application of Psalms 119:45 as an over-all
description of the Mosaical Law would surely have been regarded as incongruous
and out of place. Hence the use of
Psalms type language does not provide adequate evidence that James is using it
in reference to the entity of the Old Testament system.
It is hardly “hitting below the
belt” to point out that many interpreters who wish to make it such a reference seriously
hedge their remarks to make it apply only to the moral code or even the
Ten Commandments in particular. (See
our earlier discussion.)
Although
defining what the “law of freedom” is is important, the stress of the text is
on what it does—provide us freedom--and
we must not let our discussion blot out that greater question, which can easily
“get forgotten” in our natural preoccupation with answering the first one. Reginald St.
John Parry provides a lengthy, howbeit effective explanation that seems to
provide the explanation quite well,[80]
[Page 366]
This law is described further as “the law
of our freedom.” The phrase is
difficult. The ideas of law and of
freedom are not naturally connected with each other: and the difficulty of establishing a
connexion is exhibited by the obscure interpretations which commentators
hazard. “A law not enforced by
compulsion from without but freely accepted”—“the freedom of the law of Christ
is contrasted with the bondage of minute precepts”—such paraphrases clearly do
not explain.
The willing acceptance of a law does not
differentiate the law as such: the
absence of sanctions is not characteristic of the law which St. James is
describing, a law which has a Lawgiver and a Judge: nor does it seem quite appropriate to speak
of the law itself as conferring freedom:
nor finally can any of these meanings be properly derived from the
Greek.
The genitive after law must be either
purely definitive, as the law of
It is “our freedom,” that freedom from the
power of sin which we owe to the gift of life.
The new life, given by the implanted Word, is essentially the power of
overcoming sin and temptation and of fulfilling righteousness. . . . The
distinguishing mark of the Christian standard is that it is perfect, a complete
and final expression of God’s righteousness, and that it is imposed upon men
who are free, not from the duty of obeying, but from all unconquerable
obstacles to obedience.
[Page 367]
The Divine law gives us freedom from sin; hence it has to have
the New Testament in particular in mind—at the very least, primarily: “For it is not possible that the blood of
bulls and goats could take away sins” (Hebrews 10:4). The very same author spoke in the preceding
chapter of how the Old Testament had a role in all this by referring to “the
purifying of the flesh” produced by the offering of animals (9:13).
Yet that very context that stresses
what the Old Testament could do in gaining us freedom, stresses
that the New can do even more, “13 For if the blood of bulls and goats
and the ashes of a heifer, sprinkling the unclean, sanctifies for the purifying
of the flesh, 14 how much more shall the blood of Christ, who
through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without spot to God, cleanse your
conscience from dead works to serve the living God?”
The societal situation of “the fatherlesss”—
the Roman context.
Properly speaking, an “orphan” is one lacking both parents, but our
language has broadened the usage to include cases where only one parent has
died. This has resulted in even Bible
translations commonly using the term for both situations.
[Page 368]
The
Roman precedent: Care for a child who
had a father who was reasonably well off economically. Assuming the
father had a substantial amount of property or funds to justify actually
writing a will, it would typically have arranged for a male relative or trusted
friend to serve as guardian for the youth.[81] In this he had extreme latitude; the trust
the parent had was the operative factor and virtually any male was acceptable
in the role. Roman law even permitted a
non-Roman to serve in such as such.[82]
Another system of guardianship was
developed for those who had not taken such precautions. The praetor urbanus of
Any system can be abused and this one
was as well. By the second century A.D.
the right to sell the property or to give it away was drastically curbed;
neither could be done except under the most extraordinary circumstances. Nor could the property to be used as
collateral for loans.[85]
By Marcus Aurelius (160-180 A.D.)
the praetor tutelarius was appointed as magistrate to handle cases of
alleged abuse of guardianship rights and privileges.[86] In the 200s the rules were so tightened
that guardians (tutores) were extremely encouraged to prepare a detailed
listing of all the youth’s possessions when they began their guardianship so
they could more easily protect themselves against later accusations of misuse
of their position.[87]
[Page 369] All
of this, of course, concerns property—but what of the child him/herself? If the mother was alive it is inherently
probable that in the vast bulk of cases she maintained her control of the child
with the guardian only handling the property matters.[88] In other cases, both parents could be dead or
the father could have explicitly stated that the property guardian was
to be the personal guardian of the child as well—which would have made
them the heir if the child were to die before becoming of age![89] Roman officials appear to have harbored a
deep ambivalence and concern about how such a relationship could be abused by
the “inadvertent” death of the minor.[90]
The Romans were not above ignoring
legal procedures when such a relationship had manifestly been abused,[91]
When the future emperor Galba (68-69 A.D.)
was serving as governor in southern
[Page 370] Originally
a male was under his guardian until he turned fourteen and then gained the
rights of an adult to handle his own property.
Recognizing the profound inability of certain fourteen year olds to manage
that role and even their obstinate refusal to appoint a curator to handle
particularly difficult responsibilities for them, around 200 B.C. the Romans
formally required the mandatory appointment of a curator. This ran from age 14 (when the guardianship
ended) to age 25.[92]
Although the “orphans’ had the right
to request a different individual to serve as curator, the dominant pattern was
for the guardian to immediately move into the curator role. The two positions continued to be regarded as
legally distinct and two separate offices; they were never fully merged into
one in legal practice.[93] Probably this was due to the fact that as a
child reached his twenties, for example, he was clearly due far more
consideration in economic decisions than might have been appropriate at a mere
fourteen.
The
surviving wife’s position in a guardianship situation. Roman law
originally not only forbid the mother from serving as guardian for her male or
female offspring, it also demanded that such an individual be appointed for her
as well.[94] By c. 100 B.C., the typical Roman matron had
secured the right to manage her own property, but the law retained the
necessity of male tutores (guardians) as well for certain legal
purposes. It may have been as late as
The movement to permit women
themselves to serve as legal guardians (not mere de facto ones) encountered
deep opposition in
[Page 371] Another of that time appoints
a grandmother in charge of the juvenile grandchildren and a second century one
gives an aunt similar responsibilities over her juvenile nephews and nieces.[97] This resulted in a new legal nomenclature in
The official legal position in
In “real life” the legal niceties on
the topic could be and often were subverted in the capital. Although the wife could not be given de jure
control over her children, that result could still be obtained and in the 200s
we read of how a father would disinherit the offspring and have the wife
receive everything in the estate herself. However the will would also give have
the responsibility of passing along certain specified parts of the inheritance
to each child at age twenty-five. This
way she was not technically legal guardian over the children’s property
but over her own, while protecting the children’s right to ultimately
receive it.[100]
And then
there were those who fell outside of Roman structures governing surviving
children. Appointment of
someone to be in charge of a juvenile made complete sense when significant
funds or resources were available.
Unless the child were to die or be killed, he would still grow up and be
around to “haunt” the consciences of others of [Page 372] the upper classes if blatant abuse had
occurred. It was also a matter of continuing
the power / class structure from one generation to another: Continuity encouraged stability and without
stability the entire system’s existence was grieviously endangered.
And on the personal level it envolved practical family economics. Which goes far to explain why those further
down the socio-economic totem pole were typically not provided such legal
protections by their fathers: It cost
money that most could not afford.[101] Hence they relied on more informal and
unofficial methods—such as the sense of familial responsibility from brothers,
sisters, and cousins.
The government did not encourage official
intervention to help the vulnerable. In
fairness to them, there was the simple fact there were so many children,
aged, disabled, widows, etc.. Handling a
problem that seems “doable” would be great enough a challenge; facing one that
seemed inherently and permanently overwhelming, is it any great surprise that
there would be a temptation not to make the effort? To “solve” the problem by ignoring it? “Out of (official) sight, out of mind?”
Add to this the fact that governmental revenue was limited even
though they were extremely creative at enlarging it. Even the
[Page 373]
Then there were the inherent biases of how they thought and looked at
the world. It was a class dominated
society with a vengeance and it engaged in social snobbery at a premium. The needy you saw by the hundred in every
significant town of the empire—rare would they include the Roman citizen or
even one with local civic citizenship.
The latter was not as prestigious as the former but it still gave you
considerable regional “bragging rights.”
Everyone else? These were the
“riff raff” of their day. Embarrassing
“clutter” on the urban landscape. Sad,
perhaps, but still inevitable.
Not can this be simply dismissed as hard-hearted male foolishness, for
the female of the species shared the same biases. Clement of
But those who are more refined than these
keep Indian birds and Median pea-fowls, and recline with peak-headed creatures;
playing with satyrs, delighting in monsters. They laugh when they hear
Thersites; and these women,
purchasing Thersiteses highly valued, pride themselves not in
their husbands, but in those wretches which are a burden on the earth, and overlook
the chaste widow, who is of far higher value than
a Melitæan pup, and look askance at a just
old man, who is lovelier in my estimation than a monster purchased for
money.
[Page 374]
And though maintaining parrots and curlews, they do not receive the
orphan child; but they expose children that are born at home, and take up
the young of birds, and prefer irrational to rational creatures; although they
ought to undertake the maintenance of old people with a character for sobriety,
who are fairer in my mind than apes, and capable of uttering something better
than nightingales; and to set before them that saying, He that pities the poor
lends to the Lord (Proverbs 19:17) and this, Inasmuch as you have done it unto
the least of these My brethren, you have done it to Me (Matthew 25:40).
But these, on the other hand, prefer ignorance to wisdom,
turning their wealth
into stone, that is, into pearls and Indian emeralds. And they squander and
throw away their wealth
on fading dyes, and bought slaves; like crammed fowls scraping the dung of
life. Poverty, it is said, humbles a man (Proverbs 10:4). By poverty is meant
that niggardliness by which the rich are poor, having nothing to give
away.
It wasn’t that such folk “hated” the
unfortunate. That would at least exhibit
an emotional response to the situation.
Rather, they weren’t even worth thinking about. They are non-entities and how can
non-entities matter—even when, as in the example Clement cites, when contrasted
with a puppy which is ours and, therefore, does “count.”
[Page 375]
The societal situation of “the fatherless”
—the Jewish context.
The Old Testament, as we have seen
in the precedents chapter, has a great deal to say about support for both the
fatherless and widow. From our
perspective it is oddly silent about what happened in those cases when the
widow died before the child was officially regarded as an adult. Or, perhaps, not so strangely: Most mothers don’t die before the children
and even when they do, usually the father is still alive. (This is one of the practical advantages of a
two parent family.)
Furthermore the phrase is typically “fatherless and widows,” broad
enough language to cover both situations—survival of mother and child or
either of them alone.
The common linkage of fatherless and widow together was a natural one
since both had normally lost the only source of direct financial support. The orphan would grow into an adult at least
theoretically capable of earning his own income and being of help to the mother
if she were still alive. In the case of
the widow, her main options were prompt remarriage or kin, who might or might
not be able to assist her. (Never forget
how often economic survival was by a painfully narrow margin. “Giving till it hurt” wasn’t just a
preacher’s slogan in such cases.)
Old Testament precedent. In addition
to generalized demands for sympathetic treatment of widows and orphans three
texts we haven’t examined touch upon specific rights that they enjoyed. The first might be called self-help: they had the right to glean what was left in
the field. The harvesters were not
to go out of the way to make a 100% collection of all that was available,
[Page 376]
19 When you reap your harvest in your field,
and forget a sheaf in the field, you shall not go back to get it; it shall be
for the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, that the Lord your God may bless you in all the work of your
hands. 20 When you beat your olive trees, you
shall not go over the boughs again; it shall be for the stranger, the
fatherless, and the widow. 21 When you
gather the grapes of your vineyard, you shall not glean it afterward; it shall be for the stranger, the fatherless,
and the widow. 22 And you shall remember
that you were a slave in the
The connection of this generosity
with the past history of Israel as Egyptian slaves in verse 22, could be taken
in either (or both) of two ways: If they
wished to complain about the pseudo-hardship of the restriction, they should
remember that as slaves rather than free they had had to endure far worse. Alternatively, they owed Yahweh their
freedom; how then could one begrudge this simple humanitarian request?
The world was a harsher world for
the poor than it is in “advanced” technological countries today and these were
laws that fit the needs and abilities of the society. As Carl S. Milsted, Jr., writes,[103]
[Page 377]
How do you provide food
for the poor when food is expensive, when
growing food means walking behind a pair of cantankerous oxen instead
of
riding in an air conditioned tractor? . . . The gleaner laws implicitly
recognize these difficult realities. They . . . forbade farmers to do
the low
margin efforts, leaving that work for the poor. Farmers were forbidden
from
reaping the corners of their fields (where the weeds concentrate) or
picking
up dropped sheaves of grain. Farmers were also to make only one pass
through their trees and vineyards. Late ripening fruit was left for the
poor to
pick.
While the well off were
forbidden to do the last bits of work, this work
was still done – by the poor. The poor had to work to get their
“free” food.
But it was work that the poor could do. Gleaning requires no capital.
Gleaning requires no specialized skills or education. Gleaning requires
no
long term planning or deferred gratification. Gleaning requires no
social
skills or willingness to follow orders. This is work [within the
capacity of
anyone].
And what of when it wasn’t harvest
time? However much might be gleaned, it
would certainly not be likely provide enough for more than a few weeks or
months under the best of conditions.
When the crops were still growing there was also a right to eat of the
crops when passing through the fields, “24 When you
come into your neighbor's vineyard, you may eat your fill of grapes at your
pleasure, but you shall not put any
in your container. 25 When you come into your neighbor's standing grain,
you may pluck the heads with your hand, but you shall not use a sickle on your
neighbor's standing grain” (Deuteronomy 23).
[Page 378] This
last right was not limited to just the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow,
but was available to anyone. Jesus’
disciples could justify doing such (Luke 6:1) by this right of innocent
passage.
The fatherless and widows also had the right to receive an invitation
to the Pentecost feast, being included as if they were family members or, at
least, members of the household,
9 “You shall count seven weeks for yourself;
begin to count the seven weeks from the
time you begin to put
the sickle to the grain. 10 Then you shall keep
the Feast of Weeks to the Lord your God with the
tribute of a freewill offering from your hand, which you shall give as the Lord your God blesses you. 11 You
shall rejoice before the Lord your God, you and
your son and your daughter, your male servant and your female servant, the
Levite who is within your
gates, the stranger and the fatherless and the widow who are among you, at the place where
the Lord your God chooses to make His name abide.
12 And you shall remember that you were a slave
in
Again we have the implicit
admonition not to begrudge the assistance (verse 12). Slaves were far more often destitute than having
any significant resources—much less being prosperous. Hence calling your ancestors in
[Page 379] Furthermore, the implication
in verse 11 seems to be that it was not the responsibility of “the fatherless
and the widow” to ask for permission to join you, but your
obligation to make the offer. Any one
with the finances to afford such assistance would surely have known of those
who could benefit by such generosity.
Some would be those encountered on a semi-regular basis and have loosely
defined friendships with one or more family members. What better way to show good will than to
offer them the opportunity to join in a Feast that would normally be beyond
their resources?
Finally such folk had a right to assistance
from the tithe every third year. Although
the tithe (or its cash value if the distance to travel was too great,
Deuteronomy
28 At the end of every third year you shall bring out the tithe of your produce
of that year and store it up
within your gates. 29 And the Levite, because he
has no portion nor inheritance with you, and the stranger and the fatherless
and the widow who are
within your gates, may come and eat and be satisfied, that the Lord your God may bless you in all the work of your
hand which you do (Deuteronomy 14).
[Page 380] The
storage aspect (
Although some insist that this tithe
was in addition to that to be sent to
The specifying of every third
year is fascinating due to its limitation—surely there would have been such needy
individuals around every year. Since
the tithe was primarily for a spiritual rather than a welfare purpose, however,
this approach constituted an ongoing reminder of how important it was to meet
obligations in both areas.
If one regards this as an additional tithe, then one seems
required to assume that this was simply the maximum deemed practical: Make the obligation too heavy / often and
there would surely have been a serious temptation to try to “nickel and dime”
the way around its general practice. A
third year obligation minimized this danger.
It also constituted a reminder to the prosperous that the poorest deserved
help since even the priestly tithe was openly shared with them upon that
occasion.
Jewish custom in the post Old Testament era. Since
“widows and orphans” are so linked in the Hebrew literature, it seems that there
was an inherent assumption that the widow would take personal and direct charge
of the child.[104] Since the vast bulk of the [Page 381] population was not all that greatly well
off, there would seldom be the temptation to alter custom except when both
parents had perished or when prying the child away might be of significant
economic advantage to the other party.
If the mother died, then there were, presumably, relatives who would
take upon themselves the raising responsibility. And, hard as it is for an urbanized society
to sometimes realize it, an agricultural, non-industrialized society needs all
the hands it can get—even young ones come in handy. Hence there would likely be either family or non-family
neighbors willing to undertake the responsibility if worse came to worse.
Such situations inevitably arise in
any society and we saw that Roman and Greek ones had established procedures for
the oversight of the child of the prosperous whether the wife was dead or
not. In Jewish tradition no such
provisions are spelled out until the Mishnah (c. 200 A.D.): when the concept of guardianship is
finally broached it conspicuously does not use a Hebrew term but the
Greek word epitropos.[105] This has been used to conclude that the Jews
did not have formal law but rather customary (and presumably de facto binding)
procedures, with leading figures in the local community making the decision.[106]
That there were some type of
generally assumed procedures has been deduced from the deuterocanonical
book of Tobit where we read that “I would give to those to whom it was my duty,
as Deborah my father’s mother had commanded me, for I was left an orphan
by my father” (Tobit 1:8, RSV). This sounds
as if he went directly under her guardianship[107]—unlike
in the Roman tradition where a woman was excluded from such a role.
[Page 382] But the text actually is only
talking about where he received his moral instruction and in many
households that was (and is) from the dominant female of the family. Hence the roles of guardian and teacher may
be interlocked or confused. In such a
context it should be remembered that a grandmother was inherently more
likely to have “time on her hands” in a reasonably prosperous family than any
one else. The odds were that her son and
daughter-in-law would be just as happy to allow her to assume the
responsibility without protest.
Part or all of a young person’s
inheritance in the days of Seleucus IV (187-175 B.C.) are known to have been
converted into silver or gold and retained, for safe keeping, in the
The societal
situation of “widows.”
In James
[Page 383]
The widow as target. Even
assuming she was at least modestly well off, she was still like the aged of
both genders in early 21st century
If a widow were fortune enough to have even a half-way decent
inheritance, there would be those quite willing to separate her from the money
or property, even supposedly devout and pious individuals. Jesus passionately rebuked those scribes and
Pharisees who “devour widows’ houses” for doing exactly that (Matthew
This abuse might be done, for example, by funding them in their life or
having the property pass to them upon death.
Alternatively one could imagine them “getting themselves named as
executors of their estates. Once in that position, they not only took an
ordinary fee for their services but embezzled funds far beyond that.”[110] There were varied ways to produce the same
evil result.
[Page 384] Abuse was true of widows in
Roman society as well, especially if they were young and unused to the exercise
of household authority and were fortunate enough to carry with them a decent
inheritance. Jerome gave the
hypothetical words that were easily found in such a youthful widow, “My little
property is shrinking day by day, my inheritance from my ancestors is being
scattered, a slave was rude to me, my maid took no notice of my orders. Who will appear for me in court? Who will answer for my land-tax? Who will educate my little children? Who will train my slaves.”[111]
John Chrysostom spoke of how a widows’ problems were much the same where
he lived. He provides this summary of
the lament one was likely to hear,[112]
A multitude of troubles rushes in upon
me. I am exposed to all who are willing
to injure me. Those of my servants who
formerly feared me now despise me and trample upon me. If anyone has been benefited, he has
forgotten the benefit he received from [my spouse]; if anyone was ill-treated
by the departed, to return the grudge against him, he lets loose his anger upon
me.
Of course youthful fortune hunters[113]—or
the parents who saw a way to economically benefit their son—would easily be on
the prowl as well. With just as sugar
coated words as the scribes and Pharisees that Jesus denounced.
The
remarriage option. This need for either remarriage or family
assistance would be pervasive among the less well off elements of society—which
were dominant. Those with better economic
conditions often had greater flexibility,[114]
[Page 385]
The dowry provided a
woman with a measure of security both while
married and in the event of her husband’s death. Dowry laws permitted
the Jewish wife to “share in her own
property during marriage.” In the
event of a husband’s death, the laws
provided that the widow and her
children could continue living in her
deceased husband’s house. She had the
option, though, if she preferred, to return
to her parents’ home. As an
additional measure of security, the widow
could keep part of her dowry,
although the amount was limited to about
one year’s livelihood. Someone in
the household became “the lord of the
dowry” and assumed responsibility for
a widow’s support.
Evidence
indicates some women, especially those from wealthier
families, managed the family’s financial
affairs in the husband’s absence. In
such cases, the wife would continue those
responsibilities if her husband died.
Some widows thus fared quite well. Widows who enjoyed a degree of
financial independence were able to provide
for themselves. . . .
If they lacked experience in
economic matters they were still potential targets of the type of men we were
just discussing. If they lacked
sufficient personal “gravity” they were still likely targets for the servants
who wondered whether she could maintain control in the household. The recognition of such personal limitations
or old fashioned loneliness would prompt many widows to wish to continue in a family
relationship with a new husband.
In fact, remarriage might not only be
possible but strongly desired--though it is likely they often had the same
problem as today—too few desirable choices (see the next section). On the other hand, Paul clearly considered
remarriage a viable option so long as you were under sixty (1 Timothy 5:9; cf.
verses 11-12). There was no arbitrary
cut-off point in his mind.
[Page 386]
From a Christian standpoint, societal conditions might be so severe
that it would be outright unwise to begin a new relationship in a period that
was tumultuous and fraught with danger.
Hence Paul’s advice in 1 Corinthians 7:8: “I say to the unmarried and to the
widows: It is good for them if they
remain even as I am” (note the context in the surrounding verses).
The same words of caution would have been obvious to many traditional
Jews when the Great Revolt erupted in the mid-60s. Triumphant at first, even the most optimistic
surely recognized that it was going to be a long struggle. When the tide started to turn, prudence would
surely have made many hesitant to remarry until all was settled.
During the horrible Year of Four Emperors (68-69 A.D.), it is most
unlikely that many Roman widows were thrilled with the possibility of entering
a new relationship. And many would be
suitors were surely plagued with doubts as to personal survival in such a
tumultuous period. Not the
environment that would encourage prompt marriage!
The
problem of finding a new mate. In Roman society older men, who had
outlived a spouse, tended to avoid remarriage though taking a woman as his
ongoing “official” concubine was commonly considered a reasonable alternative.[115] A surprising number of younger men, however,
passed over the opportunity of remarriage as well.[116]
[Page 387] The
widow’s best hope lay in a male who was without children or who needed a wife
to oversee the raising of a young child whose mother had died.[117] Assuming a male was of reasonable economic
standing, one would have expected similar individuals to have been a primary
source of second husbands in Roman controlled
Even so a significant percentage of
widows found a new spouse in both Roman and Jewish cultures, especially in the
latter.[118] Rabbinic endorsement of her right to
remarry—because her spouse was dead—was required. Normally two adult Jewish males were required
to verify it in order to obtain this, though rabbis were known to permit as few
as one and even permit confirmation by Gentiles or women.
In Jewish society, a widow theoretically
should have been married by the husband’s brother—but this only applied if
there were no children to carry on the husband’s name and if the male was
willing. A precise procedure was
established for public rebuke if he wasn’t (Deuteronomy 25:5-10), which itself
shows that it was anticipated that there would be a sufficiently large number
of cases to require that such an option be available.
Alternatives
for the economically marginal and destitute. Most widows, whether Jewish or
Gentile, were unlikely to have anything of real substance at all. Today we use the expression “living paycheck
to paycheck.” Although they did not have
paychecks back then, the practical reality was similar—just enough money to get
by on—that earned by hired labor, paid (typically) on a daily basis. Death obviously cut off the pay. If an artisan, the widow was left with his
unsold products and then nothing revenue producing.
[Page 388] How immediately desperate she
is depends upon her husband’s success in life, his level of unpaid debt, and
how he has arranged the disbursement of whatever is left at the time of death[119]—after
these expenses, how much will she really have?
Even for some very prosperous individuals, the amount of income “in
hand” or not otherwise obligated, could quickly throw her life into uncertainty
and turmoil. This was the situation
among Gentiles and since males know no ethnic line in their wisdom, success,
and good or bad planning, such things would affect the Palestinian widow as
well.
If she is fortunate she has a paid for roof over her head. If it’s provided as part of the pay for
working for someone else, she doesn’t even have that.
And depending on how young she is she may have small children.
Without a new mate, she was facing a
world in which the opportunities for self-support were minimal and would be
even smaller as she aged. Her own family
might be willing to take her in, but if her husband’s affairs had led them to
move somewhere significantly far away, that option could easily be close to
non-existent. If the betrothed lived far
away at the time of marriage, the option was also far less likely to be
available.
If they had offspring (children or
grandchildren) available who could help, though, Paul insisted that they do so
(1 Timothy
But since the
words are aimed at the families of Christian widows the natural
assumption would seem to be that “Christian” children were trying to
escape their obligations as well; some have suggested that they were passing it
off on to the church.[120] Hence if the parents weren’t assisted, it
would be “the church’s” fault and not that of the children—at least in their
own self-centered minds.
[Page 389]
.
“Orphans and widows” to be assisted by
individual Christians:
So what is the intended role for the
church?
A textual overview. Three words in this verse deserve brief
analysis because they are central to the writer’s point and it is easy to miss
their true significance. The first is
“religion” and the Greek term refers to “the external acts of religion”[121]
rather than to what is in our hearts (or which we claim is there). The point is made more powerful by
designating the specific nature of the religion of the listener: In effect, “If a person believes that he is a
good Christian” he or she must manifest this behavior pattern to be
truely religious.[122]
The second is the kind or quality
of religion under discussion, one that is not only “pure” but also “undefiled,”
i.e., “unstained”[123] or
uncorrupted (the flip side of the same idea).
One expresses the idea from a positive direction and the other from the
negative.[124] Both must be present if either is to
be there.
The third key word is “visit.”
In English that suggests a casual drop in to say hello, smile, and
exchange a few words. In Greek the term
requires a far more active involvement, to “look after” or “to care for” their
needs.[125] It means a personal role far beyond
mere rhetoric. You are there, but
it’s to do far more than talk, it is to help with or provide what is needed.[126]
[Page 390]
The role
of the church. With no other viable options the woman sixty
or older was to be assisted and the rules for accepting them and how they were
to act are laid out in 1 Timothy 5:3-10.
From its earliest days in
Why the age of sixty? From the
practical standpoint, that is surely the practical time when physical
difficulties begin to get the most severe and the opportunities for work of any
kind is the least. (It is claimed that
we are now getting beyond that and this is part of why the standard retirement
age has climbed from 65 to 67 and may go higher.) As noted earlier, Paul considered a woman as
potentially marriageable up until then (1 Timothy 5:9; cf. verses 11-12).
James
In vivid contrast, the church as a collectivity or organization is
never referred to as providing assistance specifically targeting orphans
as a distinct category or as subsumed within the category of widow (=
widow’s dependent). Which makes total [Page
391] sense when working within the
Pauline framework: if to be an official long-term
church supported widow required an age of sixty, how likely was there to be a
young child? Indeed such younger women
were not regarded as qualifying for such indefinite assistance as even a quick
reading of 1 Timothy 5:3-8 surely shows!
(That did not remove the responsibility of individuals in such cases, in
accord with what James
Of course when regarded as grown, there was the concept of adult relief
for needy believers—a concept found both in texts describing it being done
(Acts 2:45) and in passages describing
funds being contributed from other places to help the local congregation
provide such aid (Romans 15:25-27; 1 Corinthians 9:1-5, 12).
There is, of course, superficial tension between the two ideas of general
adult relief and widows not being enrolled until sixty. But there is clearly no contradiction because
adult relief programs were never intended to be permanent, while
assistance for aged widows was clearly designed to be exactly that.
We seem to have that kind of situation in Acts 6 as well, where the
needs of widows being neglected in the distribution became a troublesome issue
in
Of adult relief in general, Paul wrote, “Even when we were with you, we
commanded you this: If anyone will not
work, neither shall he eat” (2 Thessalonians
[Page 392]
No provision for direct church care of the
fatherless. To us this may
sound quite weird indeed. For the
silence to make sense surely requires us to assume that the New Testament is
working on some unstated but pervasive assumption. The most likely is that orphans will not
exist as a distinct class separate and apart from their mothers and that any
care for the mothers would, simultaneously, be care for the child. Hand-in-hand with this is that true
orphans that are from Christian homes (i.e.,
no father or mother surviving) will always find solace and refuge
in the homes of kin or, at worst, other believers. (Like Origen was adopted after his father had
been martyred.)
How did the church finance its benevolent
obligation in regard to widows?
Since the Corinthian congregation and others were instructed to take up
a weekly contribution for the benefit of Christians back in Palestine when they
were going through a particularly bad period (1 Corinthians 16:1-4), this was
clearly a time limited contribution, a “special needs contribution” if
you will. Although we are not informed
of how they were to gain the funds for their local widows’ support, the most
natural assumption would be that it was part of a weekly contribution take up for
their own, local needs. (This
assumes, of course, that the number were such that an organized program for
them was already needed,)
That it would be set up, initially, as a special offering for a limited
time seems inherently unlikely if the number were more than one or two or three
elder individuals since certain of them were likely to live on for a much
longer period. Since it would be an
ongoing need, the precedent of a weekly contribution including benevolent purposes
would seem to be all but guaranteed.
[Page 393]
Church treatment of widows and orphans in
the second and subsequent early centuries. Three questions immediately arise.
First is how was it financed by the church?
Carolyn Osick and David L. Blach concisely describe what is known of
the later shift in how the funds were gathered,[127]
Justin [c. 165 A.D.] describes a collection
taken up at the weekly Eucharist to help orphans, widows, the sick, and others
in need.
Tertullian speaks of a monthly voluntary
collection that goes to the relief of those in need, including orphans and old
abandoned slaves.
By the middle of the third century, the
church of Rome was reputed to be supporting fifteen hundred widows and other
needy dependents.
The second question is how it was organized. What we
conspicuously do not have is the modern day sponsoring church or
independent organization. What we do
have is the expansion of the church’s area of responsibility as a group—rather
than individual behavior as in James 1:27.
We do not know why this was done.
It would be reasonable to speculate that it was based on an expansive
reading of Acts 6:
[Page 394]
1 Now in those days, when the number of the disciples was
multiplying, there arose a complaint against the Hebrews by the
Hellenists,
because their widows were neglected in the daily
distribution. 2 Then
the
twelve summoned the multitude of the disciples and said, “It is not
desirable
that we should leave the word of God and serve tables. 3 Therefore,
brethren, seek out from among you seven men of good reputation, full of the
Holy Spirit and wisdom, whom we may appoint over this business; 4 but we
will give ourselves continually to prayer and to the ministry of the
word.”
In James 1 the subject is the fatherless and the widow; in 1Timothy 5
it is widows alone; in Acts 6 it is widows alone. In 1 Timothy 5 widows were not to be enrolled
unless they were at least sixty, making it extremely improbable that there were
any fatherless dependent upon them.
Since it was the apostle Paul who set that minimum age and since it was
the original group of apostles that set up the procedure in Acts 6, should we
not assume—for consistency of the texts and apostolic custom as well—that
this aid was specifically for the aged alone, i.e., those who were at least
sixty?
In other words, that assistance for widows with minor age children was
to be still handled by individuals. Or,
even better, their own offspring or extended families (cf. 1 Timothy 5:4).
Whether one agrees with this deduction or not, it is easy to see that
as numbers increased the temptation would be great to consolidate all
assistance that would be available on an ongoing basis. Whether good or bad, the motives here were
surely strictly benevolent rather than religio-bureaucratic empire
building.
In the Rome of the days of the Shepherd of Hermas we read of the
woman apparently in charge of at least the teaching of widows and orphans, “You
will write [Page 395] therefore two
books, and you will send the one to Clemens and the other to Grapte. And
Clemens will send his to foreign countries, for permission has been granted to
him to do so. And Grapte will admonish
the widows and the orphans. But you will read the words in this city, along
with the presbyters who preside over the Church” (Vision 2, Chapter 4).
From this description it has been deduced that she was also in
charge of them and their welfare—a mild interpretive reach and, at the
minimum, a reasonable one since the person in charge of teaching the group we
would most naturally assume to be the appointed leader of it as well.[128] And a mixed widow-orphan audience would not
normally connote a “Bible class” situation since they are way different age
brackets.
Would something more not have to be implied, a context in which both
would be involved, i.e., a welfare one?
Now, if the reasoning is sound, note also that the expression is “the
widows and the orphans,” as if younger widows were now encompassed within the
church’s collective welfare role. Not
just those sixty years of age or older.
No other ancient “Christian” text speaks of a women performing such a
function. Not until we leap forward,
literally, over a thousand years (to the twelfth century) do we find women
functioning in such a role. This occurs
at a monastery in
[Page 396] Since similar perceived needs
tend to be met in a similar manner, it would not be surprising if a comparable
procedure (if not terminology) did not spring up at least periodically in
different locations at earlier dates as needs and circumstances seemed to merit.
A significantly different approach, broadly reminiscent of the
twentieth century’s orphanages can be found, however, in the early 300s—as we
will examine in the next section.
The final question we need to answer is the
authority in charge of the fatherless. As congregations evolved in the direction of
having a presiding elder and then a bishop in distinction from the presbyters,
at least titular authority would inevitably pass into his hands as well.[130] This situation can be documented in the Syrian
Didascalia Apostolorum from the early 300s, where a detailed outline is
presented of what should be done for such youths and the bishop’s pivotal,
central role in it.
Although he is the ultimately “answerable” one, the bulk of work was
apparently done through the rough equivalent of a boarding school financed by
the local Christians. It provided help
to both girls and boys. Boys were given
training in a trade and both genders were provided basic education.[131]
Not surprisingly, as the document itself urges, well off Christians
were to willingly share in carrying the financial burdens for the effort and
stressed that their marrying age sons should be steered toward choosing a
spouse from the school.[132] The bishop was to intervene personally, as
needed, to assure this was done.[133]
[Page 397]
Notes
[1] Leahy,
370.
[2] Colson,
19.
[3] Morris,
79.
[4] Scott
Devor, “Count It All Joy.” Part of the
Ligonier Ministries website. At:
http://www.ligonier.org/learn/devotionals/counting-it-all-joy-1787/. [June 2012.]
[5] McKnight, James, 72.
[6] John
Painter, “James’ Message: The Literary
Record,” in The Brothers of Jesus:
James the Just and His Mission, edited by Bruce Chilton and Jacob
Neusner (
[7] Reginald St. John Parry, A Discussion of the
General Epistles of St. James (London:
C. J. Clay, 1903) 33-34.
[8] McCartney, 85.
[10]
Adamson, James: The Man, n. 70,
page 240.
[11]
Harland, 520.
[12] Harland,
515.
[13] Gildas
Hamel, Poverty and Charity in Roman Palestine. Slightly revised version of the 1990 book of
the same name, issued by
[14] Ibid.
[15] Ibid.,
n. 41, 138.
[16]
Adamson, James: The Man, 241.
[17] Ibid.
242.
[19]
Hamel, 139.
[20]
Adamson, James: The Man, 243.
[21]
Adamson, James: The Man, 243.
[22] Hamel,
n. 48, 139.
[23] Ibid.,
n. 49, 139.
[24] As
quoted by Hamel, 84.
[25] Harland,
515 (scholarly citations omitted).
[26] Center
for the Study of Early Christianity, 31.
[27] Ibid.,
50-51.
[28]
Harland, 515.
[30] See the
citations in Harland, 518.
[31] Ibid
[32]
Josephus, Antiquities, 15.299-316
(of 25 BC) and 20.51-52 (of 46-47 AD), as cited by Ibid.
[33] For a
fine, concise summary see Ibid., 518-519.
[34]
Aristeas, Letter of Aristeas (R. H. Charles translation), 114-115. Part of the Early Jewish Writings
website. At:
http://www.earlyjewishwritings.com/letteraristeas. html. [August 2012.]
[35] Hamel,
n. 14, 85, citing AJ 14.206.
[36] Ibid.,
n. 14, 85.
[37]
Adamson, James: The Man, 249.
[38] Ibid.,
235.
[40] Harland, 521; another scholar cited estimates 20%-35%
(521).
[41] Harold
W. Hoehner, Herod Antipas: A
Contemporary of Jesus Christ (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Academie Books / Zondervan Publishing House,
1980; original edition copyright 1972), 76.
[42] Hamel,
133.
[43] Ibid.,
136.
[44] Ibid.,
135.
[45] Ibid.
[46] Ibid.,
136.
[47]
Hoehner, 78.
[48] Adamson, James:
The Man, 233.
[50] For the
grammatical argument that the rich person has to be a believer see
Nystrom, 55.
[51] Songer,
109.
[52] Guy N. Woods, A Commentary on the Epistle of James
(Nashville, Tennessee: Gospel Advocate
Company, 1964; 1976 reprint), 46.
[54] Laws,
63.
[55] Ibid.
[56] Guy N.
Woods, 46.
[57] This
wording establishes the best parallel with the situation of the poor just
discussion. Ibid., 48, which presents
the explanation about the poor given in our text, gives four alleged advantages
the humbled rich individual has but only hints at this one.
[58] Eric
Vestrup and JPH, “Does God Tempt?” Part
of the Tekton Education And Apologetics Ministry website. At:
http://www.tektonics.org/gk/godtempt.html. [June 2012.]
[Page 403] [59] Ray
Pritchard. “Does God Lead His Children
into Temptation (Matthew
[60] von
Wolfgang Schneider, “Can God Lead Into Temptation?” Copyright 2009. At:
http://www.biblecenter.de/bibel/widerspruch/e-wds19.php. [June 2012.]
[61] Sidebottom,
22.
[62] Eric
Lyons, “Does God Tempt People?” Part of
the Apologetics Press website. Copyright
2009. At: http://www.apologeticspress.org/apcontent.aspx?category=
6&article=2679. [June 2012.]
[63] Yoder,
1176.
[64] Painter, “The Power of Words,” 263.
[65] As
quoted by Sidebottom, 36.
[66] As
quoted by Laws, 87.
[68] Gench,
29.
[69] Jerome
H. Neyrey, “James,” in The Collegeville Bible Commentary, ed. Dianne
Bergant and Robert J. Karris (Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1989), 1222.
[70] Charles
Clever, “A Brief Study on ‘The Law of
[71] Rendall,
66-67. Cf. the remarks on this theme by
[72]
Painter, “The Power of Words,” 250, 251.
[73] Ibid.,
251.
[74] Ibid.,
[75] Plumptre,
69.
[76] Williams,
107.
[Page 405] [77] Don
Martin, “Can
you Explain the ‘Perfect Law of Liberty’?” Part of the Bible
Questions website. At:
http://www.biblequestions.org/archives/BQAR230.htm. [July 2012.]
[78] Cf. on
[79] For reminding me of Acts 15 and Romans 8, thanks to
Cecil Willis, Truth Magazine (November 18, 1971) as reproduced on the
Truth Magazine website. At:
http://www.truthmagazine.com/the-perfect-law-of-liberty. [June 2012.]
[80] Parry, 27-28.
[81] Timothy S. Miller, The Orphans of
[83] Ibid.
[84] Ibid., 34.
[86] Ibid.
[87] Ibid., 34-35.
[88] Ibid., 35.
[89] Ibid., 35.
[90] Miller, 36.
[92] Ibid.
[93] Ibid., 36-37.
[94] Ibid., 37-38
[95] Ibid., 38.
[96] Ibid., 39.
[98] Ibid.
[99] Ibid., 39-40.
[100] Ibid., 39.
[101] Ibid., 40.
[102]
Clement of
[103] Carl S. Milsted, Jr.
“The Gleaner Laws” (2004).
At: http://www.holisticpolitics.
org/GodsWelfareSystem/Gleaner.php.
2004. [January 2014.] I have edited out some of the politically
charged language, though the reader may wish to consult the original to see
Milsted’s effort to apply the gleaning principle in a more modern social
context.
[107] Ibid., 43.
[108] Ibid., 43.
[109] Laws,
89.
[110] Charles Harris, “The Life of the Widow: Part 6, Church Responsibility to Her.” Part of the
[111]
Jerome, Epistle 54.15, as quoted by Susan Treggiari, Roman
Marriage: Iusti Coniuges from the Time of Cicero to the Time of Ulpian
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 498.
[112] Quoted by Efthalia M. Walsh, “Wealthy and
Impoverished Widows in the Writings of St. John Chrysostom,” in Wealth and
Poverty in Early Church and Society, edited by Susan R. Holman (
[113]
Treggiari, 489, citing Horace, Epp.
1.1.78 and Matt. 2.32.6, 4.56.1.
[114] Batson, Jerry W.
“Widowhood in Jesus’ Day.” Biblical
Illustrator, Winter 2010-2011, 26-29.
At:
http://www.lovebaptistchurch.com/1210_WidowhoodJesusDay.pdf. [January 2014.]
[117] Ibid.
[118] Jerry
W. Batson, “Widowhood in Jesus’ Day,” Biblical Illustrator (Winter
2010-2011), 29. At:
http://www.lovebaptistchurch.com/1210_WidowhoodJesusDay.pdf. [January 2014.].
[119] Treggiari, 501.
[120] Carolyn Osick and David L. Blach, Families in the
New Testament World: Households and
[121] Ibid.,
176.
[122] Bratcher,
18.
[124]
[125] Plumptre,
62. Cf. Bratcher, 9; Burdick, 161;
Colson, 25.
[126]
Blomberg and Kamell, 115-116.
[127] Osick and Blach, 167.
[128] Timothy S. Miller, 44.
[129] Ibid., 44-45.
[130] A conclusion that Timothy S. Miller, 45, adopts
though with considerably different language.
[131] Ibid., 45-46.
[132] Ibid., 46.
[133] Ibid., 45.