The remembrance of the Holocaust each Spring annually takes us one step further from the dire moments in human history that we now identify broadly as the Holocaust, the murder of eleven million of our fellow humans by the forces of Nazi fascism. What have we, collectively, learned from these annual observances? Have they provided any new foundations for helping to render us whole again as the human family?

The biblical story of Adam and Eve undergirds the tradition of seeing us all descended from a single set of parents. This is not science but belief. It is a belief to which we of the biblical tradition attach a series of correlatives—if that is so, then this and this and this follow. Christians add a particular “this” in the form of humankind’s inherited need for redemption, realized in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. Jews and Muslims see no such need for that particular extension, but rather espouse other correlatives that Christians do not espouse, such as symbolic covenantal observances like male circumcision and dietary restrictions. One might wonder whether these varied applications of biblical stories should effectively divide us as members of the same family, descended physically from Adam and Eve, bonded spiritually with Abraham and Sarah, fraternally with Jesus. The stories typically are matters of belief. But, should such beliefs and interpretations set one against another in the name of a truer truth?

In the years since the Holocaust, Christians and Jews have tended to seek a common ground; yet we are still far apart in matters of beliefs and interpretations. These differences in belief must seem less consequential now, however, in light of why we have come together to remember. We remember the facts of mayhem and mass murder. These are not beliefs but actual events. When do such actualities in the real world of our experience necessarily reshape beliefs inherited from another world and time?

There are many such present actualities that should grasp our attention as we now re-read our biblical narratives. How much understanding have such contemporary realities as the Holocaust brought into our consideration of how we read the sacred texts today? Can we be oblivious to such real-life events, choosing rather obliviously to re-enact moments long past, having taken place once upon a time in a setting quite distinct from the reality we now experience and know with certitude? Such present-day realities  include the Holocaust, but they necessarily extend also to a wide range of additional experience such as the changed role of women in society, a better understanding of human sexuality and personal identity, a set of freedoms now deemed inherent in our personhood, and the realities of pluralism within human society and belief systems.

If, in fact, we know God through human history, what kind of God have we come to know? Is it a God who happened within a particular moment of time, gave us the answers for all time, and then left us to hash out the difficulties? Or is it a God who happens all the time, provides few if any answers, but remains with us as we encounter difficulties? We can prove neither to be true, yet we can infer from history that the latter is more within the realm of human religious experience.
Endowed with the biblical legacy, what then do we really have that equips us to address history’s crises? Surely not complete answers. Surely not absolutes. But just as surely a sense that history teaches us lessons that we do well to probe for meaning.

The lessons that the Bible teaches are similar to the lessons of history, yet in the particular frame of reference that we call canonical. We afford special care in reading biblical texts because we have come to believe that they, collectively, form the basis for our belief system. Thus, biblical theology begins with the acceptance of the Bible as having a special place within our understanding of God and ourselves. But how absolute is this acceptance? Is the Bible literally true to the extent that what biblical authors report is exactly what actually happened, without admixture of local perceptions and societal interpretations? Or, rather, is our acceptance of the Bible as sacred just a starting position for how we see ourselves before the God that the Hebrews once experienced and interpreted within their own range of experiences? Such a rendition of deity is far from complete. It is fragmentary. It is largely obscure and uncertain. Recognizing these necessary limitations, ought we now proceed to discover new meanings in new realities and experiences that bear on us more directly, and which the ancients could never have envisioned?

The Holocaust is not the only wake-up call for reality control. But it does challenge us today to remember how disastrous blind ideology can be. Ideology relates more to beliefs than to realities. Still, ideology scores high marks for the true believers who isolate themselves in a bubble of unreality. Who might such true believers be? That is the question that Holocaust remembrances need to address with the urgency of life and death.

Reaching back into the world of the Bible is always a challenge that cannot be reduced to the route of easy access. In the current issue of BTB, Robert Gnuse,  in The Critic of Biblical Theologians: A Review of James Barr’s THE CONCEPT OF BIBLICAL THEOLOGY:AN OLD TESTAMENT PERSPECTIVE, examines the work of the illustrious biblical theologian James Barr. In a future issue of BTB, Gnuse will similarly review the recent work of another esteemed biblical theologian, Walter Brueggemann. Each of these reviews is intended to supply BTB readers with comparative study of leading figures in the exposition of biblical theology today.

In A Brief Moment for a One-Person Remnant (2 Kings 5:2–3), Walter Brueggemann touchingly highlights the role of an unnamed young girl who quietly becomes the pivotal character in key narrative of 2 Kings 5 (the healing of Naaman, commander of the King of Aram’s army). By highlighting this young girl’s place in the story, not unlike Mary’s at the Wedding Feast of Cana, Brueggemann reminds us once again that “little people” play big roles in the drama of human history. Hyam Maccoby questions the oft-repeated belief that tax collectors bore the social stigma of pollution, and corrects this misinformation with a more precise analysis of tax collectors in the Second Testament period, in How Unclean Were Tax-Collectors? Finally in the second part of The Construction of Galilee as a Place for the Historical Jesus, Halvor Moxnes identifies a range of residual scholarly tendencies from the nineteenth century, and points out new avenues of study that have a significant bearing on assessing the import of geographical studies of Galilee at the time of Jesus. Scholars often unintentionally carry the ideologies of past scholarship into the present, creating thereby a distortion that ought be recognized and eliminated or qualified in light of intervening advances in science and understanding. Therein lies the ongoing work of biblical theologians, for the role of the scholar is to gain a realistic perspective on history.

David M. Bossman
Editor

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