Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Selected Old Testament Passages
The present chapter and the next are given over to a survey of the sovereignty-responsibility tension in the Hebrew canon. This chapter focuses on a select list of twelve biblical passages in which some kind of tension between God’s sovereignty and man’s responsibility is woven into the fabric of the text, so much so that it can be avoided only by great exegetical ingenuity. These twelve passages have been chosen from a long list of potential candidates, primarily because they are particularly good examples, but also because they represent a fair cross-section of Old Testament literature.
The next chapter abandons close scrutiny of a small number of passages in favour of painting a picture with a large brush. It is divided into two main parts. The first surveys the ways in which the Old Testament portrays man as responsible and God as contingent; the second surveys the ways in which the Old Testament portrays God as so utterly sovereign as to exclude any limiting contingency. The aim of the chapter is not to provide a history of the development of the sovereignty-responsibility tension within canonical tradition, but to outline the tradition itself. Some care has been taken to avoid reading the Old Testament through monochromatic spectacles: after all, the parameters of the sovereignty-responsibility tension in wisdom literature are not precisely the same as those found in the prophets or in the Pentateuch, and there are smaller variations within each corpus; but over-simplifications no doubt occur. Some of the danger is alleviated by constantly asking how various themes function within their own context.
Genesis 45:5–8; 50:19f. (cf. Psalm 105:16–25)
The comfort Joseph offers to allay his brothers’ fears turns on God’s overruling in an event itself evil. To become vindictive now, Joseph reasons, would be to put himself in God’s place (50:19). This is not a simple declaration of non-competence to judge what is right and wrong. The meaning rather is that God himself has acted with benevolent purposes in the entire event, and, acknowledging these, Joseph is content to harbour no grudge. Joseph finds in Yahweh’s good intentions sufficient motive for imitative benevolence.
But to isolate the function of God’s sovereignty in these verses is not to resolve the tension between that sovereignty and man’s responsibility. On the one hand the words, ‘so it was not you who sent me here, but God’ (45:8) are hyperbolic: Joseph does not minimise the ugly fact that the brothers with evil intent (50:20) did indeed sell him (45:5). The text will not allow the brothers to be classed as puppets and thus to escape their guilt. On the other hand, neither does it picture God as post eventu deflecting the evil action of the brothers and transforming it into something good. To cite Joseph’s words to his brothers: ‘As for you, you meant (ḥašaḇtem) evil against me; but God meant (ḥašāḇah) it for good’ (50:20). Both God and the brothers entertain specific intentions in their respective roles in the same event; but their intentions are disjunctive. ‘God has himself directed all for good: in deep hiddenness he has used all the dark things in human nature to further his plans, that is, “to preserve many people alive” (Gen. 45:5ff., 50:20). While the brothers contrive to rid themselves of Joseph, God contrives to effect their (and others’) deliverance.
Leviticus 20:7ff.; 22:31f.
The Holiness Code (Lev. 17–26) drums with the demand to be holy. It is Yahweh himself who gives the highest motive for such holiness: ‘You shall be holy; for I the Lord your God am holy’ (Lev. 19:2). Unlike 19:2, the two texts which immediately concern us, 20:7 and 22:31, do not explicitly posit the holiness of Yahweh as the ultimate motive driving the people towards holiness, although perhaps that is assumed in Yahweh’s words, ‘for I am the Lord your God’ (20:7), ‘I am the Lord’ (22:31). The new ingredient lies elsewhere: it is the last clause of 20:8 and 22:32: ‘I am the Lord who sanctifies you’ (nasb). It is unwarranted to take this clause as a mere variation of the other holiness-motive clauses: rather, Yahweh himself is to be credited with sanctifying the people. Clearly, that Yahweh is the sanctifier does not relieve the Israelites of their responsibility to sanctify themselves; and conversely, that responsibility does not entail Yahweh’s passivity in their sanctification.
Judges 14:4a
The words of 14:4a must not be regarded as secondary additions. Not only do they provide the background to the displeasure of Samson’s parents (14:3), but they provide the framework within which the playing out of his riddle takes on meaning.
The portrait of Samson is scarcely salubrious. Samson’s insistence on an illicit union, in this passage, is no exception. Yet the writer can still say that it was from Yahweh, because Yahweh was seeking an opportunity against the Philistines. There is no obvious effort to whitewash Samson; nor is Yahweh’s character impugned. In some mysterious way he himself stands behind Samson’s unworthy motives, not to promote evil but to punish the Philistines; for without the ensuing exploits Israel could easily have succumbed to Philistine influence.
2 Samuel 24 (cf. 1 Chronicles 21:1–7)
Most commentators connect 2 Samuel 24:1 with 1 Chronicles 21:1–14, where a first punishment from Yahweh is meted out. The reason why Yahweh’s anger is again burning against Israel is not made clear, although some think it is connected with the Bathsheba incident. Nor is it very clear in what way David here sins. There is no doubt at all, however, that his action in commanding the census makes him morally culpable (cf. 24:10, 17). Divine sovereignty does not function to reduce human responsibility; David is not less guilty because Yahweh himself incites him to number Israel. ‘The language leaves no doubt … that God incites men to do that for which he afterwards punishes them.’ We may perhaps assume, after the pattern of 2 Samuel 21:1–14, that Yahweh’s action in 24:1 is judicial; at any rate, no moral blame attaches to Yahweh himself. But the point to note is the manner in which divine sovereignty and human responsibility are here interrelated. Contrary to views which see divine sovereignty and human responsibility as mutually limiting, the former does not in fact alleviate the latter, while the latter in no way curtails the former.
Appeal to 1 Chronicles 21:1 does not help. That Satan, not Yahweh, here stands up and incites David to number the people has caused not a few scholars to see a theological development: the Chronicler ‘could no longer endure this great theological tension.’1 That there is both development and a different theological perspective is undeniable; but the claim that the change from Yahweh to Satan is part of that development is more doubtful. By itself, of course, 1 Chronicles 21:1 manifests no tension; but early readers, taking 2 Samuel 24:1 and 1 Chronicles 21:1 together, would find in the change from Yahweh to Satan no more and no less trouble than in the first two chapters of Job.1
Some think that the difference in perspective is clear as soon as we remember that only 2 Samuel 24 gives the background to the building of the Temple. This fact alone would be enough to trace the genesis of the action back to Yahweh himself: the secret overruling of God behind the stage of phenomenal history makes it clear that Yahweh, not David, is the one who selects the Temple site. The final result of the matter is a major redemptive appointment, and no human offence could be the ultimate trigger to release so grand a gift.
1 Kings 8:57–60
Solomon’s prayer at the dedication of the temple (8:22ff.) lays repeated stress on the responsibility of the people to repent and turn from their wicked ways. Especially from 8:31 on, the plea to the God whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain (8:27) is that he might respond favourably to the people’s repentance. Such language clearly places the responsibility to repent squarely on the shoulders of the people.
Nevertheless, the concluding verses sound a different note. In 8:57–60 the request is rather that God will work in the hearts of his people so that they will follow his ways. Of course, that Yahweh inclines the hearts of the people to him is not a potential excuse for personal indolence, but functions as an incentive to thorough devotion and obedience (1 Kgs. 8:61).
1 Kings 11:11–13, 29–39; 12:1ff (cf. 2 Chronicles 10:15; 11:4)
That the behaviour of Rehoboam was foolish, immature, harsh and unsympathetic cannot be doubted. Nevertheless, the entire event—including Rehoboam’s folly—is attributed to a ‘turn of affairs’ (1 Kgs. 12:15; 2 Chr. 10:15) from Yahweh.1 At least part of the reason for Yahweh’s action is given to us: he was fulfilling his word through Ahijah the prophet (11:29–39). This in turn arose out of Solomon’s idolatry (11:11–13; cf. Exod. 20:5b=Deut. 5:9b), and therefore Yahweh’s action was in part judicial. It functions further to explain why Rehoboam did not fight. But the crucial point to observe is the tension between God’s sovereignty over the event, and Rehoboam’s reprehensible conduct within that framework. The sovereignty-responsibility tension is certainly not eased by the later developments of Jeroboam’s evil (14:6ff.).
Isaiah 10:5ff.
This passage throbs with tension. On the one hand, Yahweh’s sovereignty over the nations is highlighted in the most absolute terms. He it is who sends Assyria against his people to punish them for their wickedness. He manipulates nations the way men manipulate tools (10:15); and hence it is the most pompous arrogance to suppose one may act independently of him. Can lifeless wood lift ‘not-wood’? Shall finite, human Assyria move God?
But that brings us to the other side of the question. It is possible that the prophet believes Assyria to have overstepped her commission (10:7), but this is at best a secondary point.1 The really heinous crime of Assyria, for which there is to be a most rigorous accounting, is her attitude of self-congratulating independence. The king’s arrant boasting fails to acknowledge the real source of Assyria’s strength: Yahweh himself (10:13ff.).
The problem of how to construe the parts played by Yahweh and by Assyria is acute. Clearly, Yahweh’s use of Assyria entails no honour for Assyria; yet it is inadequate to say, with Rowley, that God chose a nation like Assyria for its punitive task simply because he saw that ‘the very iniquity of their heart would lead them to the course that He could use.’1 The expressions used do not make God so secondary and contingent. On the other hand, Calvin’s warning is well-advised: ‘We must not suppose that there is a violent compulsion, as if God dragged them against their will; but in a wonderful and inconceivable manner he regulates all the movements of men, so that they still have the exercise of their will.’1 Indeed, it is for the self-aggrandisement at the core of the Assyrian will that she will be condemned. From the passage, one might almost conclude that Assyria would have borne no chastening at all if only she had adopted a humble servant spirit toward Yahweh. At the same time, the comfort afforded the Israelites by the assurance of Yahweh’s sovereignty over their oppressors helps to keep their own punishment in perspective.
In the one event, Isaiah is able in this way to divide up the roles of Yahweh and Assyria. This division does not so much make the total event the summation of the component roles of the two actors, as affirm both the transcendent and unyielding sovereignty of God over history, and the responsibility of all his creatures, including foreign kings, to acknowledge him as sovereign: all this without benefit of convenient harmonising explanation. The historical actions and motives of Assyria are understood to be significant, the basis upon which she will be punished; yet this significance does not reside in some action which escapes the sphere of divine sovereignty.
Such an approach to the sovereignty-responsibility tension is not unique: cf. 2 Kings 19:25; Isaiah 30:28; 37:22ff.; 44:24–45:13; Jeremiah 25:12ff.; 50–51.
Jeremiah 29:10–14
Yahweh promises to visit the exiles in Babylon at the end of seventy years, fulfil his word, and bring them back to the land. All this arises out of his plans for their well-being, not for calamity (29:10f.). He will be found by his people, and he will restore their fortunes (29:14).
But vv. 12f. put the onus of responsibility on the calling, coming, praying, and seeking of the people. It is true that some commentators take these verses as an encouragement to the exiled Israelites to seek God throughout the exilic period in a spiritual, non-cultic fashion now that they are removed from the Temple. But the flow of the argument better suits the interpretation given here: the ‘seeking’ and ‘finding’ of 29:13 are most naturally related to the ‘being found’ in 29:14. In the latter verse, Yahweh’s self-disclosure, his gracious decision to ‘be found’ by his people, is clearly related to the close of the exile. Once again, then, the divine activity calls for response, not fatalism; while human calling and seeking do not make the divine activity contingent. (Cf. on Lev. 20:7f.; 22:31f.; 1 Kgs. 8:57ff., supra.)
Jeremiah 52:3 (cf. 2 Kings 24:19f.)
Some scholars insist that this text cannot mean that the anger of Yahweh was the cause of Zedekiah’s evil. It is much better to admit that, however awkward the phraseology may appear, the M conveys ‘the impression that the divine anger was the cause of the iniquity rampant in Judah rather than being the result of it.’1 The thought is no more difficult than 2 Samuel 24:1ff. (supra); and, as in that case, the divine action is most likely judicial, presupposing a long list of earlier breaches.
The crucial point for this study is the tension between the divine and human aspects of Zedekiah’s rebellion. The writer regards that rebellion as inevitable: Yahweh stands behind it. But Yahweh’s character remains unsullied; his action is just and judicial. Meanwhile, Zedekiah’s action is not the knee-jerk movement of a puppet, but is characterised as ‘evil in the sight of the Lord’ (52:2). The reason for Zedekiah’s disastrous defeat lies in his own guilt; the reason he persists in that guilt even in the face of impending disaster lies in Yahweh’s anger, judicially understood. Divine sovereignty thus gives an ultimate dimension to the agony of the exile, while serving as the supreme warning to future generations.
Joel 2:32 (M 3:5)
At the beginning of the verse the initiative of the ‘whoever’ (nasb) receives emphasis; at the end, it is Yahweh who is doing the calling. The ‘and’ of the last line is a waw explicative: the same group is defined differently. Ironically, this difference is a major factor in causing some commentators to misconstrue the tension by insisting that the last line is a later addition. The preposition b in ûḇaśśe rîḏîm (‘and among the survivors’; lit. ‘and in the remnant’) does not imply that Yahweh calls only some from among the remnant. Rather, it has the same significance as in the parallel expressions behar-siyyôn ûḇîrûšālayim (‘in Mount Zion and in Jerusalem’): the sphere of God’s operation is in view. Thus, all who call on the name of Yahweh will be saved—i.e. all whom Yahweh calls.
Haggai 1:12–14
On the one hand, the people respond to the preaching of Haggai and obey Yahweh (1:12); and on the other, Yahweh himself stirs up the spirit of leaders and people alike. The expression ‘stir up the spirit of’ suggests that the spirit of a man is aroused in such a way that he becomes willing to perform some task (cf. Isa. 42:1; Jer. 50:9; Ezr. 1:1, 5; 1 Chr. 5:26; 2 Chr. 21:16). ‘Though the impact of Haggai’s sermon was such that a unanimous decision was taken to resume work on the Temple, he took none of the credit. It was the Lord’s doing.… Behind the willing response of both leaders and people was the silent working of the Lord, creating a willing attitude by His Spirit.’1 Thus, whereas on the one hand the obedience of the people is the condition for Yahweh’s blessing, nevertheless the people can scarcely boast of their obedience because it is Yahweh who has stirred up the spirit of the people. This fact, that Yahweh is working among them, serves to encourage the people (cf. 2:4ff.).
Psalm 105:24f.
It is typical of the praises of Israel that Yahweh is seen as the ultimate cause behind everything. In this passage, the psalmist declares that Yahweh1 not only made Israel stronger than their adversaries (105:24), but that he turned the heart of those very adversaries to hate his people. It is possible to take hāp̄ak̲ (‘he turned’) intransitively (‘Thus their heart turned …’); but in view of the context, in which Yahweh is a most active subject for an impressive list of verbs, it is more reasonable to accept the active mood of the Masoretic pointing. It is often suggested that God’s only part in causing that hatred was his multiplication of Israel;1 the Egyptians responded with hate born of jealousy and fear. But the language of the psalm makes such a view simplistic (cf. also Exod. 4:21). The psalmist is at pains to stress the unconditioned sovereignty of Yahweh in the entire event. He would certainly be horrified to attach any wickedness to Yahweh; but he insists nevertheless that Yahweh not only stood behind the drama of the plagues and the exodus, but set the stage for that drama. This limitless sovereignty forms part of the psalmist’s expansive praise.
concluding remarks
So far, our attention has been focused on a few select passages which embrace a remarkable tension between divine sovereignty and human responsibility. I have also indicated that the same sort of tension can again be found when a single event is dealt with in two or more different places. Many more instances could be enumerated. One example is the destruction of Sihon, brought about by divine hardening so that the king might be destroyed (Deut. 2:30f.), and yet, phenomenologically, brought about by the king’s own distrust of Israel (Judg. 11:19f.). Another example is the foundation of the monarchy as discussed in Deuteronomy 17:14–17; 1 Samuel 8:4ff.; 10:24ff.; Hosea 13:9–11.
Since the rise of modern criticism, many scholars have contented themselves with identifying sources, and establishing their theology, while ignoring whatever structure and theology lay in the mind of the compiler of 1 Samuel, for instance. In this particular case, over the years a steady minority of scholars has approached the text of 1 Samuel with the question of the compiler’s theology in mind, and some have come to the conclusion that there are not two different accounts of Saul’s accession to the throne after all.2
In all events, as the Hebrew canon now stands it is clear that at least some of the alleged difficulties may be absorbed into the larger tension between divine sovereignty and human responsibility. The perspective which on the one hand sees Yahweh’s absolute sovereignty behind everything, and on the other sees Yahweh standing sufficiently aloof to be able to hold his people responsible and judge them accordingly, might well fail to see any insuperable contradiction in the narratives.