Several problems with this should be obvious to anyone with a modicum of biblical knowledge. We should rehearse some of the biblical narrative here and reflect upon it.
First, Israel's own experience in Egypt was paradigmatic for how it treated strangers (Leviticus 19:34).
What did it mean for Israel to be strangers in Egypt? They were refugees on account of the famine, going down to the land of Goshen with seventy people. Most likely, they also had at least a couple of thousand others (Abram had 318 trained fighters born in his house).
While in Egypt, they were given their own territory and jobs (Genesis 47:6). They multiplied rapidly and filled the land, to the point that the Egyptian population feared being overrun by them, reducing them to harsh servitude (Exodus 1:7-14).
Israel lived in Egypt for centuries and, by the time of their departure, were numbered in the hundreds of thousands or even millions (Numbers 1:46). Even revisionary numbers would number Israel in the many thousands. This was not mere short-term hospitality for small numbers!
Second, in the defining event of Abram's call, Israel's forefather left his homeland and lived as a resident alien in a land not his own. He was not driven out by famine, war, or persecution, but (with God's command) sought a better life elsewhere.
Though given the opportunity to integrate and assimilate to the peoples of the land, Abraham and his descendants insisted on remaining distinct from them (e.g. Genesis 23).
As noted above, Abraham led a large and powerful sheikhdom with significant military capacity and was not just leading a solitary family in tents. His possessions and flocks and those of his nephew Lot were vast, so that the land was not able to support them all (Genesis 13:5-7).
They were not a settled people, but moved around over the course of their lives, living in several different locations and having conflict with more settled peoples over water sources and pastureland (e.g. Genesis 26). They committed a massacre in Shechem over a marriage dispute.
Third, besides living as resident aliens, on several occasions the patriarchs were refugees in foreign lands, most notably in Egypt and the land of the Philistines (Genesis 12, 20, 26). Moses, Naomi, David, Elijah, Elisha, Jeremiah, Jesus, and many others were also refugees.
Fourth, the Exodus involved a vast caravan of people travelling from Egypt to the Promised Land, many of them belonging to a mixed multitude, people who were not descended from Israelites, but joined with them and eventually became part of them.
On their journey, they expected to travel through various lands en route to Canaan (e.g. Edom and the land of the Amorites). When passage was refused by the Amorites and they came out to oppose Israel with their armies, the Lord gave Israel the Amorites' land (Numbers 21).
Fifth, many key figures in Israel's history were foreigners who became part of the people, or resident aliens: Caleb, Rahab, Ruth, Obed-Edom, Uriah, Ornan, etc. Rahab married the chief prince of Judah. Caleb was one of the leading men of Judah and included in Judah's inheritance.
Sixth, the status of sojourners and strangers, dependent upon the welcome and support of the owners of the land was treated as paradigmatic for the people's status as creatures, even those dwelling in their own land, beneficiaries of God's largesse (cf. 1 Chronicles 29:15).
Seventh, as the kingdoms of Judah and Israel were attacked by and ultimately fell to surrounding nations and empires, there was a growing number of exiles and a diaspora population of many millions developed. However, these diaspora populations largely retained distinct customs.
A crucial plot point of the book of Esther is that the Jews lived throughout the Persian empire, but, despite losing their land, maintained their own laws and did not assimilate. Haman's plot against the Jews was also provoked in part by the success of Mordecai the Jew.
Mordecai and Daniel, like Joseph, were first generation exiles who rose to the highest levels of power in their respective empires, resulting in envy, suspicion, and hatred from others. They resisted pagan customs and maintained their own national identities throughout.
Eighth, the significant majority of Jews lived outside of the land by the time of the New Testament.
In many respects, the New Testament is the diasporification or transnationalization of the people of God.
Gentiles are brought into the olive tree of the people of God (Romans 11), but this typically happens as they are brought into churches formed out of synagogues in the Roman world. Something of diaspora Jewish identity is present in the Church's very foundations.
The early Church was cosmopolitan in its origins. People like Paul, Apollos, Timothy, and Priscilla and Aquila lived between worlds. They were diaspora Jews (or half-Jews), who moved between cities and cultures, planting and connecting churches, being all things to all men.
As Gentiles joined these early churches, their attachments to their own native lands were transformed. They took on something of the attitude of the resident alien to their homelands. They also were bound to people in foreign lands. Mathete's epistle to Diognetus is illuminating:
Now, it is entirely reasonable and understandable to believe that our governments' immigration policies are in many respects foolish, even ruinous.
However, if we are truly Christians, resident alienhood is part of our DNA and integral to the story of our peoplehood.
If we can't tell the story of the people of God and find ourselves siding with the strangers, refugees, and exiles, as the stories of Scripture so commonly do, we should probably do some serious and urgent soul-searching.
It is also crucial to see ourselves in the figures of aliens and strangers. We are aliens and strangers, as those dependent on God's hospitality (1 Chronicles 29:15), but also as members of a transnational people, waiting for a better land (Hebrews 11:13-16; 1 Peter 2:11).
Welcoming strangers—and not just in private and occasional short-term hospitality!—is a mark of faithful Christian discipleship. Now the practice of this good does not settle the many deliberations about how to do so prudently and the very concrete 'oughts' it entails.
However, if, in justifiable opposition to bad government policies, poor international laws, failing systems, immigrants that fail to honour the duties of guests, and the like, we lose sight of who we are as Christians and cease actively to love strangers, we are in grave sin.
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ISTM the choice to speak of the 'sin of empathy' is responsible for so much of the problem here. This is frustrating as there are important points that need to be communicated here and such rhetorical choices appear to sacrifice so much light for publicity-producing heat.
I've made many of the same points as Joe has made about the problems that result when empathy is treated as the north star of our ethics, our society, and our policy-making, but without anything like the same reaction. It is quite possible to do!
Why is the rhetoric an issue? Consider the difference between the expressions 'the sin of empathy', 'sinful empathy', and 'disordered empathy'. The first implies to most that empathy is—at least ordinarily—sinful in and of itself.
Tomorrow is Candlemas, so my mind is naturally upon the presentation of Jesus in the temple in Luke 2.
Here are a few details of the story worth reflecting upon.
As many commentators have noted, there are many allusions to 1 Samuel in Luke and Acts. The books of Samuel are about the dawn of the Davidic dynasty and, fittingly, in books about the long-awaited arrival of David's greater Son, Luke and Acts frequently play off that background.
John the Baptist, like Samuel, is given to a barren mother in the context of events in the temple, and appointed to be a lifelong Nazirite (1 Samuel 1:11; Luke 1:15). Mary's Magnificat plays off Hannah's prayer.
Yes. It is essential to read the books of Samuel as a literary unity, to pay attention to themes and motifs, to types, and to symbols. There is some sophisticated commentary going on between the lines.
The following are a few things that can be traced back to David's sin. 🧵
First, the text closely parallels Amnon's rape of Tamar with David's sin a couple of chapters earlier, alerting the hearer to the similarities between the two. David's heir was following in his father's footsteps.
Evil is a sort of contagion.
Second, sin has a compounding effect. In attempting to cover up his sin with Bathsheba, David engages in a host of other sins: lies and intrigue, radical betrayal, murder, etc. Sin sets those who commit it careening down a path of destruction. It is essential to escape it.
Let's start by removing loaded terms—'rape', 'power dynamics', 'consent', etc.—from the conversation and look at the details of the story closely. Perhaps at some later point we can reintroduce various terms in a more advised fashion.
First, the closest analogies to David's actions are probably seen in figures like Pharaoh (Genesis 12), the Abimelechs (Genesis 20, 26), or Shechem (Genesis 34). He is a powerful king who can take a women when it pleases him, the lives of any obstructing his desire being at risk.
Second, a slave's sexuality could be treated as something their master could dispose of as they desired. Sarai could seek to use Hagar as a depersonalized means to get a child for herself. The text resists Sarai's framing of her action, describing Hagar as Abram's 'wife'.
First off, although I can understand it, I've never felt the appeal of climbing status hierarchies as a root metaphor for my life goal and it is quite foreign to the way I've come to think about myself; in several respects I find it very unhelpful and narrowing, even dangerous.
When climbing, things generally become more precarious the higher you get. And, at some point, you inevitably fall or must descend.
Climbing also tends to suggest a zero-sum game. You are a detached individual and other climbers are your rivals. There is little room at the top.
Like several others, I have used the term ‘tribalism’ in my criticisms of Christian Nationalism. A common objection is that such criticism is a cynical and hypocritical one—if the people making it were just honest, they would have to acknowledge they have their own 'tribes'!
A few non-comprehensive thoughts on the subject:
First, the word 'tribe' is not simply synonymous with 'group', 'circle', 'network', or 'friends'. 'Tribe' typically implies a number of things, such as strong collective identity and less tolerance for individual divergence.
A tribal way of thinking can also suggest a group that considers its identity and its good very much in detachment from or opposition to a wider society within which it has to work with groups with different identities, interests, and priorities. It can be provincial and insular.