Biblical Fracking

Midrash for the Modern Christian

Francis H. Wade

• Publisher: Wipf and Stock
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN:
  9781532671333
  9781532671340
• eBook ISBN:
  9781532671357
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Biblical Criticism & Interpretation

Christian theology has lacked a tradition resembling Jewish midrash ("inquiring" or "expounding") to explore beyond the literal texts of Scripture. Francis H. Wade fills that gap with Biblical Fracking: Midrash for the Modern Christian. As he writes in the introduction, "Biblical fracking, in the spirit of its historical roots and its geological namesake, means reaching into the cracks and crevasses of the biblical narrative to extract the richness that lurks there." All forms of fracking have potential for benefit as well as abuse. Wade leads us on the narrow path to where we can hear God's word in fresh ways. For example, he asks readers to consider how Sarah felt when Abraham left to sacrifice their only son, Isaac. What was it like to have the quixotic Peter as a husband, or to have a brother like Jesus? Was Judas Iscariot simply the venal betrayer, as commonly caricatured, or was he a devoted disciple who tried to force Jesus' hand? In these and other expositions, Wade reveals Scripture's celebrated and obscure figures with empathy, designed to enrich our understanding of the Bible's saints and sinners, people much like ourselves.

Part One

Living in Families

1

Abraham and Sarah

Genesis 22

Those who have, or feel they have, a direct line of communication with God are seldom known for their collaborative skills. The patriarchs and prophets of the Old Testament were basically loners. Moses took advice from his father-in-law, but no one else. The gospel stories of Jesus’ ministry feature far more give than take. And while Saint Paul seemed to be in constant dialogue with others, the only time he actually changed his mind was on the road to Damascus. Apart from the historical books, the biblical writers were not really interested in what preceded the words and actions they described, but the record we have is where we have to start. And that record describes a long string of unilateral actions informed only by private revelation.

Consider the famous story of the aborted sacrifice of Isaac, one of the great dramatic tales of ancient literature, as well as a foundational story in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. It is about faithful obedience in the face of terrible consequences. As rich as the story is in drama and meaning, biblical fracking allows us the possibility of finding even more to discover and consider, such as the relationship between Abraham and Sarah, and how it may have played out before the father-son journey to the place of sacrifice.

It would be irresponsible to view the couple through the lens of the modern American family. They were people of their own era living with the mores of that far-off time. We can, however, view them through the lens of our common humanity. Customs, proprieties, and expectations change, but our basic human nature remains fairly constant.

As a family, there was no question as to who made the decisions. Abraham had a direct and exclusive line of communication with God, the kind that renders moot the idea of discussion with others. He also had the cultural authority to offer his wife to Pharaoh’s harem and Abimelech’s roving eye in order to protect himself from danger. But Sarah was not without resources. She was able to persuade her husband, against his wishes, to exile Hagar and Ishmael in order to protect her son Isaac from familial competition. Obviously, there was give and take in the relationship, even if the particulars seem strange to us.

So, what happened to Sarah’s protective instincts and persuasive powers as Abraham inched toward the awful decision to offer their only son as a sacrifice? Did Abraham tell her what he was going to do? Probably not, because with God’s word and his own familial authority there was no need, and he would have been loath to unleash Sarah’s well-known protective instincts and persuasive powers. But the decision must have weighed heavily on his heart and mind to such a degree that Sarah would have known something was wrong.

Look into Sarah’s heart, where she can sense the absence of candor in her husband, where she struggles to learn from words not spoken, and tries to interpret an unknown. Demons of fear and suspicion thrive in such a climate, and make learning and interpreting even more difficult. She may have told herself that it was nothing to worry about, but the dark spirits of suspicion would not buy it. Could she ask him? Maybe. Maybe not. Let us assume that, since the Scriptures do not include her role in this awful scene, she chose to be as silent as her husband and, like him, kept the drama inside.

Look into Abraham’s heart, where there is a terrible clarity sitting across his path like a snarling beast. He is caught in a classic moral dilemma: the conflict of equally compelling virtues. His love for God and his love for his son are on a collision course. One must be obeyed and the other discounted. To turn away from God would be to make a lie of everything he has ever said or done. He is Abraham, whose obedience to God defines not only his life but the entire enterprise of faith and belief. On the other hand, Isaac is his only son—the son of God’s promise, the means by which his name and his faith would be carried to future generations. The fact that he chose God over Isaac could not have removed the clouds of doubt and pain from his heart or his countenance.

With his terrible decision made, Abraham must concentrate on it the way a marksman focuses on a target or a surgeon eyes an artery. The other horn of his dilemma, the love for Isaac, can easily hook him and pull him away from his chosen path. There is no place for distractions, as Sarah certainly would be if he told her. His wife could have made the choice between God and Isaac in a heartbeat, and it would not have conformed to that of her husband. So Abraham is silent, left alone to face the beast. And Sarah is left to the demons of fear and suspicion. Each suffers acutely but differently. That is what happens when people who share a life do not share life’s burdens.

The story resolves itself along the lines of the adage “I faced some terrible things in my life and most of them never happened.” While that is often true and ends the drama in this case, it is not always so; sometimes the demons of fear and suspicion are allowed to play havoc with our tranquility.

How did Abraham and Sarah deal with their solitary burdens? There is, of course, no record. But we can be sure that they, like the rest of us, had to address, live with, or flee from their experience. How might their individual burdens have been lightened if they had talked to one another? Could their powerful, but solitary, experiences have a corrosive effect on their marriage? Talking requires courage and trust. Silence, when there is much to say, corrupts and tarnishes.

2

David and Abner

2 Samuel 3

Some four hundred years before the birth of Christ, Athens and Sparta clashed in what is called the Peloponnesian War. In the course of that conflict, mighty Athens overran the small island of Melos. As Thucydides recorded, the Athenian rationale was “the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.” It would be difficult to imagine a better motto for the world’s bullies. Humanity has never wanted for seemingly strong men and women who prey on the seemingly weak. Neither the Bible nor our own day is lacking in examples. It is possible that fracking a scriptural account of bullies at work may lead to, if not open, a window of insight into their world.

Consider the story of powerful King David and Army Commander Abner along with three unfortunates: King Saul’s son and daughter, Ishbaal and Michal, and Michal’s husband Paltiel. The background is the up-and-down relationship between David and Israel’s first king, Saul. During an up period, Saul wed his daughter Michal to young David. During a downturn, he took her back and gave her to Paltiel. After Saul’s death, David fought to establish himself as the rightful king and came into conflict with the forces of Saul’s son Ishbaal led by Abner, a man who would fit anyone’s idea of a bully. In the confusion of disorderly succession in the House of Saul, Ishbaal was concerned that Abner was getting too close to one of Saul’s concubines. This was not just a matter of romantic dalliance, but Abner’s assertion of rights to the king’s property and ultimately the king’s throne. Abner responded to Ishbaal’s accusation with the kind of self-righteous indignation that bullies resort to when guilty. Abner’s rant succeeded in intimidating Ishbaal so that he “could not answer Abner another word, because he feared him.” Capitulation like that feeds the bully’s contempt for the victim and often inflates the image of himself as invincible. Perhaps because of his disdain for Ishbaal or because of his guilt, Abner switched sides. David, sensing the upper hand Abner’s betrayal gave him, and wanting to assert his own claim to Saul’s throne, demanded that Ishbaal strip Michal from Paltiel and let Abner bring her back. Ishbaal did as he was told. Paltiel joined the ranks of victims by following Michal and Abner down the road “weeping as he walked behind her.” This continued until Abner, ever the bully, snarled “Go back home,” and Paltiel did so.

While it is true that laying claim to King Saul’s concubine and his daughter were political moves, the behavior of David and Abner provides insight into the particular kind of blindness manifested in bullies throughout the ages. Did they see what they were doing to Ishbaal and Paltiel? Did anyone give a thought to Michal as she was bounced from husband to husband? Fracking the story suggests that they did not. Abner could see the physical shapes of his victims, but not their humanity or their claim on dignity. As with cyber bullies today, David’s blindness was deepened by the fact that he could not see the effect his demands had on his victims. It is unlikely that David and Abner had any perception of themselves as overinflated egotists relying on the weak to make themselves appear strong.

The blindness of bullies comes in part from the glare of their own needs, which prevents them from seeing the rights, privileges, and needs of others. The overwhelming neediness of a bully might be political or psychological, sexual or social, economic or egotistical, but it prevents the oppressor from seeing—literally taking into account—the people he is pushing around. When the response of those victims reinforces the bully’s distorted self-image, the blindness is deepened to near-total darkness. That may provide an insight but in no way an excuse for the behavior. As the saying goes, “there are none so blind as those who will not see.”

In the time of Saul and David, and well beyond, few people actually saw women in their fullness as human beings. They were bartering chips, commodities, and baby-makers. I doubt that David could see all of Michal’s humanity. Ishbaal joined the bullies in their blindness and became an enabler by letting fear block every alternative except serving as their tool. Paltiel’s weeping dissent and easy acquiescence complimented the blindness by feeding Abner’s tough-guy picture of himself. It takes courage to live in the world as it really is with people who are fully human. Bullies universally lack that courage and cover their deficit with blind aggression. Frightened enablers like Ishbaal and satisfying victims like Paltiel play their part. As Jesus once said (Matt 15:14), when the blind lead the blind, both fall into the ditch.

3

Zebedee

Mark 1:16–20

Wealth is morally and spiritually complicated. The arrogance and excesses of those who succumb to its temptations have long been a source of pain in the world. The prophet Amos derided the insensitivity of the rich (6:4–7), and Jesus commented on how hard it is for them to enter God’s kingdom (Mark 10:25). Many of the world’s revolutions, both great and small, have been rooted in frustration with their indulgences; the unequal distribution of wealth continues to vex communities and nations. Even when wealth’s power accomplishes great things, as it often does, there is the subtle temptation for the donor to believe that since he is doing God a favor, it will be returned. Does not scripture (Eccl 11:1) tell us to “send out your bread upon the waters, after many days you will get it back”? A sense of entitlement with a dash of elitism naturally follows such a line of thought. In spite and perhaps because of its obvious benefits, wealth creates a moral and spiritual landscape that is difficult to navigate.

The story of Zebedee, the father of the disciples James and John, draws us into that difficult terrain. The texts suggest that he was a man of means, while the story unfolding around him hints at how he might have borne the mantle of wealth. Fracking his story raises questions without answering them, suggests possibilities without proving them, and invites us to glimpse our own story in his.

Zebedee is only identified directly when Jesus calls his sons to follow him. Mark tells us they were mending fishing nets when Jesus pulled the two young men away, leaving Zebedee behind with the hired men. Luke indicates that Zebedee and his sons were partners with Simon Peter in a fishing enterprise (5:10). Some key assumptions can be drawn from those few details. One is that Zebedee had a boat in a business that was successful enough for him to employ others. Secondly, his sons and his business partner all joined the Jesus Movement and left him behind. Matthew adds another layer to that image by recording that Zebedee’s wife was also part of Jesus’ entourage. She asked him to promise that her sons would have high positions in the kingdom Jesus proclaimed, proving that helicopter parents existed long before helicopters and that she did not quite grasp the meaning of Jesus’ message. She was, however, present at the crucifixion (Matt 27:56) and perhaps the resurrection (Luke 23:55—24:12), which indicates the depth of her involvement. For our purposes, it further isolates Zebedee back home by the lake as his wife, sons, and business associate all fell in behind the c...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• Part One: Living in Families
• Part Two: Living with Challenges
• Part Three: Living in Community