Misreading Scripture with Individualist Eyes: Patronage, Honor, and Shame in the Biblical World

by E Randolph Richards

The Chronicler knows the whole story (since he wrote it). He knows the fate of the temple at the end of the book when he starts writing at the beginning. He knows the son of David who sits on the throne will eventually be overthrown by the Babylonians and that Solomon’s temple will be destroyed (2 Chron 36:18-19). He knows Solomon won’t be the Son of David promised by Nathan the prophet (1 Chron 17:1-15). Solomon didn’t establish a kingdom that would last, and he didn’t build a house for God’s name that would last. Nor did any of his sons. So, when the Chronicler is describing Solomon, he paints him as the kind of king that Moses warned against. The Chronicler carefully describes Solomon as breaking every one of the commands from Moses.

Chronicler paints a picture of Solomon turning into Pharaoh.

The Chronicler is trying to underscore dramatically that Solomon is not the one who will fulfil Nathan’s prophecy. The promised Son of David has not yet come.

Laban’s plan, which may have seemed very pragmatic to him, leads to serious difficulties for Jacob, Leah, and Rachel. Laban doesn’t help them make a good decision. He put the family (collective) interests too far above the individual interests of his daughters, a common pitfall in collective cultures.

appears that no culture has this marriage thing worked out flawlessly. Living in a fallen world, filled with broken humanity, leaves no part of the world, individualist or collectivist, untouched by sin.

We individualists should not presume those in the Bible thought about family in the same way we do. Although someone could join a family in the ancient Mediterranean world in much the same way as today, by birth, adoption, and marriage, their world had many collective implications for those involved that went without being said.

My college students aren’t still angry with the Japanese over Pearl Harbor. It’s ancient history, after all. When my college students say, “That’s history,” they mean it doesn’t matter. For collectives, their family history matters very much indeed. It made them who they are today. When they say, “That’s history,” they mean that it is of great importance and relevant right now.

This is an example of where some minorities in America feel their collectivist roots. As a white American, antebellum slavery is “ancient history,” and many white Christians feel no complicity in past atrocities, but many of my black friends feel solidarity with their ancestors, similarly to my Lebanese friends: “The blood that flows in my veins was the blood shed by the slaveowner’s whip.”

For individualists, while these stories shape our identity, we tend not to place as much in these stories as collectives do. For example, do you personally feel pain from what happened to your great-grandparents in the First World War? My collective friends do. There are slogans spray-painted all over the walls in one neighborhood of Beirut saying things such as, “Never forget. Never forgive.” These

Paul writes to the divided and disunited church in Corinth to call them into unity. In a carefully composed passage in 1 Corinthians 10, Paul reminds them of the exodus story.23 Helping the church remember and understand this story in Christ is part of his pastoral concerns. Paul reminds them of their ancestors going through the desert. He draws a link between the cloud, passing through the sea, and baptism.

examples, and they should never forget. Paul argues that the exodus story is now the story of the Corinthians’ spiritual ancestors. Lest we forget, the Corinthians were mostly Gentiles! These Gentiles, by believing in

Christ, have now become part of this collective family (adopted). What goes without being said is why Paul is troubling to make this point. By making the exodus story the story of their ancestors, Paul is using collective pressure on them.

Why should the Corinthians escape judgment, if their “ancestors” did not? I can overlook these collective dimensions of shared kinship and shared history when I read stories in the Bible through my individualist eyes. The better I understand this, the better I can remember what “my ancestors” experienced in the exodus. Like the Corinthians, this Gentile now has a new family history. I need to see spray-painted on my walls “Never forget” what happened to my ancestors in the desert.

Three months later, Judah is told, “Your daughter-in-law Tamar is guilty of prostitution, and as a result she is now pregnant.” Judah says, “Bring her out and have her burned to death!” (Gen 38:24). Temple prostitution (or any other kind) was not acceptable behavior for a daughter-in-law. The community, though, is shaming Judah, not Tamar, by noting his failed responsibilities: your daughter-in-law is guilty of prostitution, which was done in the ancient world as a means to survive. As the father of her household, Judah has responsibility for Tamar—to provide her with protection, support, and moral guidance.

Judah uses his authority to call for Tamar to be killed, since he feels she hasn’t been faithful. What about Judah’s faithfulness

to her?

As individualists, we can misread this story. We can view Tamar as the bad character in the story. This is because we read our way of doing family into the story.

The very one who should have stood up for her, defended her, was Judah. Yet, he is the one who wrongs her at the beginning and end of the story. Disempowered, she was the object of all the actions but the subject of none.2 Her family had failed her. Tamar seized on a way to gain the protection she deserved. When Judah sees what he had done, he confesses his sin and repents. He praises Tamar for being “more righteous” than himself. The Bible doesn’t claim she is righteous. Even Judah doesn’t say she is righteous. Instead, Judah says she is more righteous than him (which doesn’t take much).

Divorce was common by New Testament times, and just as marriage was a collective matter, so was divorce.

In the biblical world, divorce severed the relationship and responsibilities between a man and wife and those kinship ties between their two families. Land and other benefits had to be reorganized between the kinship groups involved so they were no longer joined.

It appears that most Jews of Jesus’ day followed the teachings of Rabbi Hillel, who allowed a man to divorce his wife for any reason (Josephus, Jewish War 1.432).

A minority of Jews followed the teachings of Rabbi Shammai, who allowed divorce only for serious transgressions.

Jesus of course says that a man cannot divorce his wife except for sexual immorality (Mt 19:9).

Christians over the centuries have not been kind to this woman, often painting her as “a promiscuous vixen bent on seducing unsuspecting men, and who therefore becomes the village pariah.”4 We can’t be so sure, especially when we take into account her world rather than ours.

the villagers accept her word as trustworthy (Jn 4:42). Second, there are no ancient texts that suggest a woman appearing at a well alone at noon meant anything other than someone needing water.

Yet, divorce was more commonly initiated by the husband. If she is the victim of multiple divorces, she is not to blame. Barrenness was a common reason for divorce.

“The man you now have is not your husband” (Jn 4:18)? There were lots of ancient explanations. If there were no dowry involved, villagers often didn’t file (and pay for) official marriage papers.5 This practice persisted in America until fairly recently; it was called a common-law marriage. Indonesians in the more remote islands still practice it.

As Lynn Cohick concludes, “The Samaritan is a woman of her times.” While our presumptions may slander her character, John’s Gospel does not. It is good for us to be cautious of simply assuming she was immoral.6

This is more understandable when we remember that many marriages were arranged while they were children. This marriage process goes without being said in Matthew’s story of Joseph pondering whether to divorce Mary.7

We should not assume, though, that the matter was swept under the rug or that some honorable solution was reached. Mary (and Joseph!) endured a lifetime of shaming comments. Even as an adult, Jesus was still hearing snide comments about his parentage. When Jesus talks about his father (meaning his heavenly Father), the leaders retort: “We are not illegitimate children” (Jn 8:41).

When the Israelites came out of Egypt and were going through Moabite land, the Moabites refused to give them bread and water. For this reason, Moabites were barred from entering the assembly of the Lord (Deut 23:3-4). Worse still, they had hired Balaam to curse Israel (Num 22:1-8). Furthermore, while Israel was staying in Shittim, some of the Hebrew men began to indulge in sexual immorality with Moabite women, who led them to sacrifice to their gods (Num 25:1-5). Moabites were seen as bad guys in Hebrew history. They harmed us. They led our fathers astray.

Ruth commits to remain with Naomi and her people despite having no obligation to do so and no household as a safety net. She also commits to take on Naomi’s God, the God of the Israelites, as her own. Ruth becomes a prototype of God reorganizing kinship lines.

which is hard to translate. Khesed is often used to speak of someone showing commitment to a partner that goes above and beyond what they are contractually obligated to show.

The story focuses on the faithfulness of foreigners, and the faithfulness of God, as expressed in kinship faithfulness. Kinship is still the key, but it is not kinship based in bloodlines but rather in faithfulness to God.

Clearly I did not understand what friendship means, he concluded. “Friendship is not about being friendly. We are friendly to everyone. Friendship is about being reliable.

People showed they appreciated and cared for me. They also tested whether I felt the same way toward them. Friendship was more than camaraderie or socialization. Collectives expect a friend to be someone they can rely on, and they wanted to see whether I viewed it the same way.

Middle Easterners have just as many (probably more) acquaintances than me, but they don’t consider them all to be friends.

Middle East generally carries a sense of far higher expectations than simply being on good terms with someone, or enjoying their company. Building a friendship takes a lot of time and investment and comes with many expectations.

“Suppose you have a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; a friend of mine on a journey has come to me, and I have no food to offer him’” (Lk 11:5-6). For Jesus’ listeners, asking a neighbor for help, even late at night, wasn’t the surprising part of the parable. It is a glimpse into the everyday collective-group-depends-on-one-another way of life in Jesus’ collective world. What do you do when you need bread? Of course, you ask neighbors whether they have some. What is surprising about Jesus’ parable is the friend’s response. It shocks (as Jesus’ parables often do) because the neighbor turns down his friend in need.

Communities got through life by everyone being mutually dependent on one

another.

This way of living in reciprocal dependency is preserved in texts, letters, and proverbs from the ancient world. Greek poet Hesiod wrote around 700 BC: Have the grain measured out properly when you borrow from a neighbor, and pay it back properly, in the same measure or even better, if you can. This way, when you are in need, you can find something to rely on. . . . Seek the company of those who seek yours. Give to the one who would give to you, and do not give to the one who would not. One gives to the giver, and gives not to the one who gives not.1 Reciprocal dependency runs through this text.

The Dicta Catonis, a collection of everyday folk sayings compiled in the third Christian century, says, “Be good to good people, lest you suffer loss,”

We misunderstand this dynamic when we think it is about one person caring for another: “I” give to “you” and “you” give to “me.” This understanding comes from and leads us back to an individualist way of thinking about identity.

If collective groups with very limited resources give to outsiders, they may struggle to survive themselves. It makes some sense to only give to those who will reciprocate and not throw your resources away on just anyone in need.

It goes without being said (it is self-evident) that equality is something to aim for, to uphold, to honor. While this may feel self-evident to us individualists, it is actually just a cultural value.

Belen obviously did not earn this gift and will not be able to pay it back. But he will be expected to reciprocate. Diocles has invested in Belen’s life, and so Belen will want to invest in Diocles’s life. He will do this by showing gratitude to Diocles. Belen’s gratitude is more than words. Belen will be loyal to Diocles. From now on, he bakes bread for Diocles’s family and all the people who work in Diocles’s extended circle.

He does it because he wants to participate in Diocles’s life. He is grateful. Likewise, Diocles will ensure that Belen receives a fair price for his bread and all the customers Belen can handle.

Luke portrays Jesus as a patron.14 He does good and benefits those in need of help in a number of ways, very generously.

Patronage starts with one side giving