Why did the Gileadites demand the Ephraimites say "shibboleth" before allowing them to cross the Jordan? In English, the word means something like "litmus test." It has been brought into our language directly from the story in Judges when these two groups were fighting.
The Gileadites seized the fords of the Jordan and saw an opportunity to defeat their brothers, who were guilty of dissing them. Good reason for war. But that's another story. When anyone came to the Jordan, they would say, "Let me cross over." To which the reply, "Are you an Ephraimite?" "Um, no. I hate those scumbags." Then the ford guardians would say, "Aight then, say, 'Shibboleth,'" because they knew Ephraimites couldn't produce a "sh" sound—it comes out as an "s." (How on earth did they keep their kids quiet?!)
If they failed the basic "litmus test," they were killed on the spot.
That brings us back to the point of the word choice. Any ol' "sh" word would have done. But the Gileadites were taunting them right before they killed them. "Shibboleth" means "flowing stream." They were saying, "Hey, idiot, what's this thing right here? . . . No it's not! Stupid!" *STAB*
This brings up another point. In case you're ever caught in a shibboleth situation, where you actually have to say a word to save your life, you should probably take a phonetics class now. Having done so myself, I could probably pronounce almost any word demanded of me. And I'm also nerdy enough to be able to tell the difference between the two sounds: an alveolar fricative vs. a post-alveolar fricative—literally a slip of the tongue. But if I said that, it would probably get me killed.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
Peace?
I saw this bumper sticker today and was startled at how sad it made me. I was not startled at how I began obsessing over it theologically.
I've been trying to discern exactly what the sticker is getting at. Often, old-fashioned is a bad thing. But when it's root beer (for anyone) or values (for the more religious), it feels good to be old-fashioned. I think the approach here is intended to be good. But just how old-fashioned? The B-52 goes waaay back to the mid-1900s.
My first thought when I saw the sticker was about that silly apostle Paul who told the Colossians, "God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in [Jesus], and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross." That was probably written in the 60s. AD 60s. Old, at least, if not old-fashioned. Sure, gruesome warfare predates that, but let's keep the focus on boomwow, cluster bombing warfare being old-fashioned.
Okay, it seems this sticker isn't trying to assert chronological primacy for air-to-ground obliteration, but it makes a wistful call to remember good ol' intimidation and destruction via vastly superior technology. And that does go way back.
In fact, that sort of martial dominance provided the immediate occasion for Paul's statement. The Romans were bringing their version of the boomwow on a scale never before seen. Smart people saw the futility of fighting them. Loyalist nativists were stupid enough to try to rebel. Calgacus, an ancient chieftain from what is now Scotland, was quoted by the Roman historian Tacitus around AD 100 describing the Roman reaction to this: "They rob, kill and plunder all under the decieving name of Roman Rule. They make a desert and call it peace."
Jesus was born on the losing end of this. Enough of his people were zealous enough to create great concern that Rome would obliterate Judea. Much of Jesus' prophetic ministry was anchored around warning people not to rebel, but when they inevitably did, to flee Jerusalem before they were caught in the siege. Sure enough, the generation he prophesied to did not pass away before Jerusalem was destroyed in AD 70. The Romans turned it into a wasteland and called it . . . peace.
Paul said that Jesus was the one who brought peace. In the deepest of ironies, he used the Roman version of the B-52 to do it. But he wasn't piloting the plane or opening the bomb bay. He was sitting on the ground with a big target drawn around himself almost pleading to be blown to pieces. Think about it. There was not a sane person in Roman times who would display a cross for any reason. But Jesus brought peace to the communities who followed him by willingly letting the Romans do their worst to him and crucify him. Can you see a group of modern Iraqis, following a crazy guy who invited the worst of the bombing raids to target him, wearing the picture above as patches? Three hundred years from now, people would shake their heads and say, "That guy was mad. But he sure stole their thunder. He took away their worst weapon: death." And displaying that which is fearsome and shameful eventually empties it of its power.
Perpetrating violence never brings peace. Ever. Willing, defenseless self-sacrifice is what causes empires, regimes, and invading armies to crumble. May we follow Jesus' example as we bring peace the old-fashioned way.
My first thought when I saw the sticker was about that silly apostle Paul who told the Colossians, "God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in [Jesus], and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross." That was probably written in the 60s. AD 60s. Old, at least, if not old-fashioned. Sure, gruesome warfare predates that, but let's keep the focus on boomwow, cluster bombing warfare being old-fashioned.
Okay, it seems this sticker isn't trying to assert chronological primacy for air-to-ground obliteration, but it makes a wistful call to remember good ol' intimidation and destruction via vastly superior technology. And that does go way back.
In fact, that sort of martial dominance provided the immediate occasion for Paul's statement. The Romans were bringing their version of the boomwow on a scale never before seen. Smart people saw the futility of fighting them. Loyalist nativists were stupid enough to try to rebel. Calgacus, an ancient chieftain from what is now Scotland, was quoted by the Roman historian Tacitus around AD 100 describing the Roman reaction to this: "They rob, kill and plunder all under the decieving name of Roman Rule. They make a desert and call it peace."
Jesus was born on the losing end of this. Enough of his people were zealous enough to create great concern that Rome would obliterate Judea. Much of Jesus' prophetic ministry was anchored around warning people not to rebel, but when they inevitably did, to flee Jerusalem before they were caught in the siege. Sure enough, the generation he prophesied to did not pass away before Jerusalem was destroyed in AD 70. The Romans turned it into a wasteland and called it . . . peace.
Paul said that Jesus was the one who brought peace. In the deepest of ironies, he used the Roman version of the B-52 to do it. But he wasn't piloting the plane or opening the bomb bay. He was sitting on the ground with a big target drawn around himself almost pleading to be blown to pieces. Think about it. There was not a sane person in Roman times who would display a cross for any reason. But Jesus brought peace to the communities who followed him by willingly letting the Romans do their worst to him and crucify him. Can you see a group of modern Iraqis, following a crazy guy who invited the worst of the bombing raids to target him, wearing the picture above as patches? Three hundred years from now, people would shake their heads and say, "That guy was mad. But he sure stole their thunder. He took away their worst weapon: death." And displaying that which is fearsome and shameful eventually empties it of its power.
Perpetrating violence never brings peace. Ever. Willing, defenseless self-sacrifice is what causes empires, regimes, and invading armies to crumble. May we follow Jesus' example as we bring peace the old-fashioned way.
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