terça-feira, 29 de outubro de 2013

The Historical Moses (3)

Apart from the miracles and great wonders which are told, the fact that most infuses amazement in historians, in the Exodus narrative, is the sudden formation of Israel with a population of 600,000 men over 20 years old (Num. 1,44-46; 2,32; 26,51). This information is usually considered legendary, because it does not seem possible that a group of slaves not even mentioned in the annals of Egypt, in a short period of time, may have reached so wide proportions without including women and children.
Not even in dream the vast deserts of Arabia and the Sinai Peninsula, with its torrid territory, would have the resources that were needed to feed so spectacular a contingent. Even today, after the unfathomable technological development of the last centuries, no more than a few thousand people dwell in those desert regions. Therefore, not even remotely, the population of Israelites who left Egypt can have approached the figures indicated in Numbers.
God can, of course, perform wonders, but we do not find one, in the entire Bible, that caused a nation to survive so long in contradiction with the normal conditions of existence. This cannot have happened, as well, in the sojourn of the sons of Israel in the wilderness.
Biblical data suggest that the opposite took place, i. e., that the number of Israelites who left Egypt was at most a few thousand. Exodus, for example, treats the Israelites settled in Egypt before the Exodus as a mere colony of oppressed slaves. The contrast between this description and the mighty army of 600,000 men with a high level of organization, which Numbers portrays, is impossible to surpass. Especially considering that the army of Israelites was formed in an inhospitable desert.
It cannot be forgotten that only 70 descendants of Jacob went down to Egypt. We know that their number increased greatly in the land of Goshen, but it is inconceivable that they could have reached a population of two million people in only 430 years, as suggested by the population of Israel in Numbers. When we read about the balanced battle of Israel against Amalek, shortly after the Exodus (Ex. 17:11), we realize that reality was quite otherwise. Amalek was a small tribe that lived in Canaan (Num. 13, 29; 14:43). Therefore, the group that braved the children of Israel in the wilderness, was not the entire tribe. Even so, Israel had great difficulties to defeat it, which indicates that their size and military organization were far from remarkable.
For reasons such as these, a challenge that arises, as we try to paint the portrait of the biblical Moses, is to explain the contrast between the information that presents Israel as a modest group of fugitives and that which depicts 600,000 men of war. To overcome the challenge, it is important to remember that, at the time of the Exodus, there were two contingents of Israelites in the Middle East. The first one consisted of the descendants of Jacob settled in Egypt. The other was constituted by the descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob who did not go to Egypt with the first group. The Hyksos seem to have been part of this last quota of Palestinian Jews.
Moses did not ignore the existence of the two contingents. He may even have made efforts to attract the Jews of Canaan to his group, during the pilgrimage in the desert. But this is far from justifying the population mentioned in Numbers.
The difficulty related to Israel’s population in the wilderness is therefore considerable. One cannot solve it, in the limits establisehed by traditional interpretation. There is, however, a way to explain the figures of Numbers. John Thompson showed that "the Hebrew term eleph [translated thousand in the chapters on the censuses] can have multiple meanings. It can be translated clan, a subgroup of a tribe, a military group" (Thompson, John Arthur. Archaeology and the Bible - when science discovers faith. 2nd ed., Sao Paulo: Christian Life, 2007. p . 86). Thousand is only one of the possible translations of the term.
When God told Moses to raise the census of the children of Israel, he said they were supposed to be counted one by one. In the exact words of Numbers, "Take the sum of all the assembly of the children of Israel, by their families , by their fathers’ households, according to the number of names, every male, head by head " (Num. 1,2). However, what happened next was that the sum was taken by round numbers (Num. 1,20-46). In each tribe, a few thousand and a few hundred men were counted. For instance, in the tribe of Reuben, 46 thousand and five hundred; in Simeon, 59 thousand and three hundred. And so on. Both thousands and hundreds are round figures.
It is worth noting that the hundreds expressing the number of men in each tribe are not followed by tens and units. This makes each number end, quite strangely, in its hundreds. Not even once the number of men in a tribe ends in 190, 180, 170, 30, 20, 10, 7, 6 or any number less than 200. We are led to conclude that these numbers do not meet God's determination to raise the census by name and one by one. If they did, there would be a lot of numbers ending in tens and units. Therefore, some information must be missing about the two censuses raised in the desert.
It is indeed not possible that random distributions of numbers like those that quantify the populations of the world would result in round figures. Similarly, it is not possible that the 26 sums of the two censuses would all lead to round numbers finishing in hundreds (400, 500, 700 etc.), never in tens or in units. So the thousands and hundreds of both censuses do not express measures of population, but something else.
A proper understanding of what was actually measured in the censuses can only be reached, when we consider the purpose implicit in counting the number of men "from twenty years old and upward [ ... ] able to go forth to war in Israel [ ... ] according to their armies" (Ex. 1,3). That purpose was not to determine the size of the population of Israel, but to constitute an army. In old times, censuses were seldom used for demographical purposes. Counting millions of people only to know the size of a population would be a luxury that very few nations could give themselves to. So, censuses had a very different goal. They were used to carry out mass military enrollment. In other words, to organize an apparatus of war. Women and children were not counted, in them, because they did not go to war.
Under this conception, the figures found immediately before the word eleph, in each census of Israel, do not indicate how many thousands of men, but how many military detachments existed in a tribe or in the nation as a whole. For example, in Reuben, the first census found 46 thousand and five hundred men,which means there were 46 detachments (thousands or elephs), out of which only 500 men remained. The conjunction and, which connects the 46 elephs to the 500 men indicates sum or addition. Therefore, there were the 500 besides the 46 detachments.
A close examination of Micah 5:2 helps us understand this a little better. In it, "groups of thousands" of Judah are military detachments (elephs) like those mentioned in the censuses. Micaiah says Bethlehem was too small to form one of these detachments. So we can infer that the military organization of the Book of Numbers was preserved long after the entrance of Israel into Canaan.
Nothing indicates that each of the "thousands" of Micah, invariably, consisted of a thousand men. It is likely that the number one thousand never occurred. The group did not need to have a certain number of members, provided that it could perform its missions with 501, 734, 990 or 2 thousand men. The same is true about the period of the wandering in the desert. During that period, Israel did not need groups of exactly a thousand effectives. So, they did not keep that number, but any other.
One may ask why each tribe had some elephs plus a few hundred men. Why some men were not included in the detachments? If we again exemplify with the case of Reuben, why the 500 men attributed to the tribe did not belong to its 46 elephs?
There are several possible explanations for this. One is that each tribe was assigned two military obligations: to keep military groups (elephs) of its own and to appoint a few hundred men to form the national detachments. The first requirement was fulfilled by the elephs related to each tribe, and the latter by the hundreds cited after the elephs.
For example, in Numbers 26,25, we read that Issachar had 64 deployments (elephs or thousands) and 300 men not allocated in them. Numbers 26,27 states that Zebulun had 60,000 men plus 500. In both cases, the thousands or elephs were groups belonging to the tribes, and the hundreds were designated to national regiments.
This interpretation may seem imaginative, but it is in accordance with the economic resources and the demographical dimension of nations in old times. In that context, the word eleph indicated a military group. We saw that, in Micah 5,2, the thousands of Judah were detachments or regiments with variable number of men. There is no reason to think that it was different in the book of Numbers. In that Penteuch book, eleph means a military group, not a thousand.
If it is so, the numbers of the two censuses tell us nothing about the population of Israel. We do not know how many men in the age of war the nation had, while walking in the desert. Much less what was its total population. However, nothing indicates that it included more than a few thousand people. Thomas Römer estimated that, in the sixth century b. C., the population of Judah was of 80 to 100 thousand people (RÖMER, Thomas. The so-called Deuteronomistic History – a sociological, historical and literary Introduction. Petropolis: Vozes, 2008. p. 111). Of course, ten centuries before, in a place so inhospitable as the Sinai and Arabic deserts, it was much smaller.
Thus we come to the conclusion that the 600,000 Israelites the Pentateuch says that left Egypt and wandered in the wilderness for 40 years may have been 600 military groups in which the nation was divided in order to face the dangers of the place and to conquer some lands in Canaan. The total number of men in these groups remains unknown, as well as the total population of Israel. But we know that the millions of people the censuses indicate never existed.
However, Israel’s eruption in Canaan, around 1540 b. C., and its conquest of several towns, including some walled, implies that the number of men greatly increased as the Group of Moses entered into several alliances during its pilgrimage. Such alliances are not improbable, since the desert and Palestine were inhabited by several bands and tribes. A merger with the Hyksos who withdrew from Egypt, around 1570 a. C., is also possible. It is the best available explanation for the spectacular growth in power implicit in the conquest of cities like Jericho. We know the power and experience of the Hyksos in the art of war. But even so, the existence of an extraordinary leader like Moses remains indispensable to complete the explanation, because mergers and alliances could hardly be successful without the organization made possible by the shade of a great leader.
From the time of the few thousand men who left Egypt, Israel must have reached tens of thousands on approaching the limits of the Promised Land. Of these, many were experienced warriors obedient to a military organization and commanded by Joshua, who assumed Moses role as he neared death. The exchange of a horde into an army seems to have been the work of Moses. His incessant labor and the success of his audacious actions produced the convergence necessary to the formation of an alliance that eventually allowed the Israelites to conquer the central region of Canaan.
For all these reasons, the most likely answer to the question "Did Moses exist?" is that we have to assume so. The basic story of the Pentateuch is internally unchallengeable and harmonious with almost all parallel evidence we know. What seemed legendary in its report, new studies show that may be true history. That is the case of the censuses of the nation of Israel.
But if the Pentateuch is internally consistent, how can the most important figure emerging from its pages have not existed? Moses existence and the acts he practiced are difficult to establish by direct proofs, given their remote location in time and the circumstances of ancient Israelites, but we must presuppose them to explain the Pentateuch and Israel. To explain, for example , the relationship of the Israelites with the Hyksos and Josephus information that the output of both was the Exodus, to explain the proven presence of Israel in Canaan, in the period of the judges and a whole list of similar things.
Overwhelming evidence of the Exodus or of Moses may be lacking, but it is the understanding made possible by faith that we seek. As believers, we need no more than faith in Scripture events; as men, we need to exercise our reason upon them. The exercise of reason does not allow us to understand everything, far from it. So, the field will always be open for faith. And by exercising our reason consistently, we will be able to accomplish God's first commandment to man, that is to be simply man, not beast nor angel. Who knows if, in the endless task of that thinking, which is not seeing as angels see nor doing without thinking as beasts do, the covering that veils remote History will one day be erected and we will be given to see its misteries. But while that day does not come, let us be satisfied with pursuing our double duty as men and believers, believers and men, not just one of them.

sábado, 26 de outubro de 2013

Livre Exame de Romanos (18): Filhos e Herdeiros de Deus

Mateus, Marcos, Lucas e João transmitem-nos os fatos relevantes do ministério de Cristo na Terra, mas não interpretam de modo especial esses fatos. Para conhecermos a interpretação do evangelho de Deus, precisamos recorrer às epístolas, entre as quais Romanos ocupa o lugar central, por conter a única interpretação sistemática da salvação que nos foi dada por Deus em Cristo.
Mas, assim como a interpretação do evangelho tem em Romanos seu centro, podemos afirmar que essa epístola se centra no capítulo 8 dela, no qual todas as suas afirmações convergem e alcançam aplicação máxima. E, embora Romanos 8 nos fale de vários temas, o Espírito Santo predomina nos primeiros 16 versículos, assim como a condição de filhos de Deus, nos versos 14 a 23. Por isso, podemos concluir que não há como entender o evangelho de Deus, sem conhecer o trabalho do Espírito Santo no interior dos que creem e as implicações decorrentes de Deus os fazer seus filhos.
Vimos anteriormente que a obra do Espírito consiste em ensinar ao nosso coração as palavras que Cristo falou pessoalmente ou por meio de seus primeiros apóstolos. Assim, o ministério do Espírito Santo está ligado ao ensino de Jesus Cristo e tem como resultados primordiais a vida e a paz que Paulo menciona em 8:6: “Porque o pendor da carne dá para a morte, mas o do Espírito, para a vida e paz”. Não há dúvida de que essa não é qualquer vida ou uma vida indeterminada, cujo sentido ninguém conhece, inclusive o apóstolo. Tampouco é a vida humana comum e tenho para mim que, nos termos do Novo Testamento, ela tampouco é a vida divina.
Mas, se não é a vida humana comum ou a vida de Deus, que vem a ser essa vida que o Espírito gera no interior dos que creem em Cristo? Ela é, antes de tudo, a vida resultante do novo nascimento da água e do Espírito, ao qual Jesus se referiu em João 3:5: “Em verdade, em verdade te digo: Quem não nascer da água e do Espírito, não pode entrar no reino de Deus”. Para entendermos o sentido desse novo nascimento, precisamos, em primeiro lugar, nos perguntar quem passa por ele e recebe a nova vida.
É estreme de dúvida que os que recebem o dom de uma vida nova são os que creem em Cristo. Esse é um ponto fundamental, pois Paulo se esforça para nos mostrar, em Romanos, que a fé é o único meio pelo qual Deus realiza sua obra de salvação. Porém, tão crucial quanto entender que os que recebem a nova vida são crentes é reconhecer que eles são seres humanos e que, por isso, a vida que recebem de Deus só pode ser uma vida humana. Até porque qualquer outra vida, seja de Deus ou de um animal, transformaria quem a recebesse em outro tipo de ser: em Deus ou num animal.
Essa é uma verdade tão clara e tão simples quanto afirmar que o fogo queima. Ter a vida de Deus é o mesmo que ser Deus e ter a vida de um animal irracional é ser um animal irracional. Como não somos Deus, nem animal irracional, a vida que recebemos pelo novo nascimento não é a de Deus ou a de um animal. É uma nova vida humana, diferente e superior à que Adão recebeu.
Claro que a nova vida humana não é recebida sem intensa atuação da vida divina. Porque Deus age no homem para produzir o novo nascimento, podemos afirmar que a vida divina está ali plenamente ativa. Nesse sentido, o Evangelho afirma que aqueles que creem em Cristo nascem de Deus (Jo 1:12). O que não acontece, nesse novo nascimento, é a vida divina misturar-se à humana, de modo a formar uma nova vida. Essa é uma afirmação que falta no Novo Testamento. Não a encontramos em Paulo ou em qualquer outro escritor bíblico.
Porém, a nova vida iniciada a partir do novo nascimento é o ponto central de Romanos 8 tanto quanto o resultado máximo do evangelho de Deus. Quem não a recebe não pode entrar no reino de Deus, nem o ver (Jo 3:3,5). E sem entrar e sem ver o reino, não há evangelho algum, não há Novo Testamento, nem há salvação.
Por isso, Paulo enfatiza tanto a filiação, em Romanos 8. Por isso ele fala tantas vezes dos filhos de Deus: “Pois todos os que são guiados pelo Espírito de Deus são filhos de Deus. Porque não recebestes o espírito de escravidão para viverdes outra vez atemorizados, mas recebestes o espírito de adoção, baseados no qual clamamos: Aba, Pai. O próprio Espírito testifica com o nosso espírito que somos filhos de Deus. Ora, se somos filhos, somos também herdeiros, herdeiros de Deus e co-herdeiros com Cristo” (8:14-17).
Esse é só um exemplo da importância que Paulo atribui à filiação. Não há evangelho sem a experiência de se tornar filho de Deus. Porém, exatamente por isso, devemos indagar e procurar responder com atenção redobrada o que significa receber a adoção de filho. Se não significa receber a vida de Deus ou misturar-se com ela, deve indicar uma nova relação com Deus. Nesse sentido, é que Paulo opõe a filiação à escravidão. O escravo não tem a vida do dono. Se a tivesse, ele seria o próprio dono. O que ele possui, o que o faz um escravo, é a sua relação com o dono. Do mesmo modo, o que faz a pessoa ser filho de Deus é a relação que adquire com Deus.
Isso era extremamente claro, no primeiro século, já que a existência de pai, filhos e escravos, na mesma casa, era algo comum. No entanto, a relação do escravo era muito diferente da do filho com o pai. A essa diferença é que Paulo alude. Quem estivesse inserido numa das famílias daquela época compreenderia esse fato imediatamente. Nenhuma dúvida permaneceria na sua mente de que as diferenças entre o pai, o filho e o escravo eram relacionais, deviam-se à relação entre eles e não à natureza ou à vida deles.
Do mesmo modo, a diferença entre a vida dos filhos de Deus e a dos escravos do pecado decorre da relação que uns e outros mantêm com Deus. No primeiro caso, a relação é de amor; no outro é de inimizade. O que o novo nascimento confere, portanto, é a primeira relação, a relação especialíssima de filho de Deus. É o privilégio de ser filho do Criador do Universo. É o poder chamar Deus Pai, o viver com ele e o estar inseparavelmente ligado a ele. É ter intrepidez para se aproximar do trono da graça (Hb 4:16). Enfim, é toda uma nova relação, que não existia antes de Cristo realizar sua obra salvadora, mas que não se confunde com a comunicação da vida de Deus ao homem.
O Pai, o Filho e o Espírito Santo são todos Deus. Claro que todos, por isso, possuem a natureza e a vida de Deus. Mas eles também mantêm relações uns com os outros. A vida e a natureza de Deus são incomunicáveis, porém a espécie de relação que o Pai tem com o Filho não o é. Deus nos concede algo análogo a essa relação, por meio do novo nascimento. Assim como o Pai está no Filho, e o Filho, no Pai, somos admitidos à presença do Pai e do Filho por meio do novo nascimento. E assim como o Pai ama o Filho, e o Filho, o Pai, somos amados por eles e começamos a amá-los, ao crermos na obra redentora de Cristo.
Tudo isso são relações. São até mesmo uma nova e única relação global com Deus, que Paulo denomina filiação ou adoção. Sabemos que, em grego, a palavra huiostesía, empregada por Paulo, significava adoção. Essa é a modalidade de filiação que recebemos de Deus. Porém, não se compreende o significado de huiostesía sem se entender a relação que o termo implica. A palavra está sobrecarregada com o significado dessa relação. De modo que todo outro significado é completamente secundário nela.
Que relação está implicada no termo huiostesía? A relação do Pai com o Filho. E que relação é essa, a não ser um consórcio de amor? É uma relação que, uma vez preservada, se torna inexpugnável. Nada a pode abalar. Uma reação química pode ocorrer, mas também pode ser desfeita. A associação de blocos de matéria como átomos e moléculas também pode ocorrer e ser desfeita por forças externas. Porém, a relação entre Deus e seus filhos não pode ser dissolvida. Só o livre arbítrio de Deus e dos próprios filhos a pode suspender, não um fator externo, pois a relação não é como uma ligação química. É, antes, de todo inquebrantável.
No texto hebraico do Salmo 23, as frases “O Senhor é o meu pastor, nada me faltará” não são duas afirmações complementares, mas correlativas, quase reiterativas. “Nada me faltará” é quase uma repetição de “O Senhor é o meu pastor”. E, posto que o tempo verbal, em hebraico, não funciona como em português, “nada me faltará” é também “nada me falta”, como a Bíblia de Jerusalém o traduz. Portanto, o Senhor ser meu pastor implica nada me faltar no dia de hoje e para todo o sempre. Implica que entramos numa espécie de relação indissolúvel com o bom Pastor.
E Paulo, que nos diz? “Se Deus é por nós, quem será contra nós?” (8:31). Entendamos: se Deus se ligou inseparavelmente a nós, quem quebrará essa relação? “Aquele que não poupou a seu próprio Filho, antes, por todos nós o entregou, porventura não nos dará graciosamente com ele todas as coisas?” (8:32-33). Entendamos: se Deus não poupou o seu próprio Filho, poupará simples coisas? Se nos deu o seu Filho Unigênito, não nos dará com ele todas as coisas? Ou em linguagem jurídica: “Quem intentará acusação contra os eleitos de Deus? É Deus quem os justifica. Quem os condenará?” (8:33-34). E na frase talvez mais culminante e definitiva de quantas podemos encontrar: “Quem nos separará do amor de Cristo?” (8:35).
Poderíamos dizer até mesmo: Quem nos separará do amor que é o próprio Espírito Santo? Pois, se Deus ama o Filho, se ele se alegra com o Filho e se tem paz na companhia do Filho, podemos dizer que esse amor, essa alegria e essa paz são o Espírito Santo. A relação de amor, de alegria e de paz é, sempre, do Pai com seu Filho, mas ela é o Espírito Santo.
Santo Agostinho foi o maior mestre dessa interpretação. Ele escreveu: “A razão pela qual o Apóstolo fala da graça e da paz de Deus Pai e de nosso Senhor Jesus Cristo [no início das suas epístolas], sem acrescentar o Espírito Santo, parece-me não ser outra senão porque compreendemos o Espírito como o próprio dom de Deus. Com efeito, o que são a graça e a paz senão o dom de Deus? Por isso, de forma alguma podem ser concedidas aos homens a graça, que nos liberta dos pecados, e a paz, que nos reconcilia com Deus, senão pelo Espírito Santo” (HIPONA, Agostinho de. Explicação incoada da Carta aos Romanos. In Santo Agostinho. São Paulo: Paulus, 2009. p. 167). Semelhantemente, o amor e a alegria de Deus só são concedidos pelo Espírito Santo.
Por esses motivos, o Espírito é tão importante, em Romanos 8 e no Novo Testamento como um todo. Sem ele, não há participação do homem em Deus e em Cristo. Só o Espírito coloca realmente o homem em relação com Deus, pois só ele é a relação do Pai com o Filho da qual importa que o homem participe. E ninguém participa de coisas tão elevadas sem nascer de novo, sem provar uma vida inteiramente nova, uma vida que não procede da carne ou do sangue, da vontade da carne ou da vontade do homem, mas de Deus e somente dele. Adão foi feito do pó da terra; Eva, da costela de Adão. Por isso, um é terreno e o outro, antrópico. O novo homem, somente ele, é criado no espírito humano por Deus Espírito e é, por isso, espiritual.

domingo, 20 de outubro de 2013

Holy Harlot

During the crisis triggered by the Pope’s renunciation, last February, Brazilian theologian Leonardo Boff published a significant article ("The church as institution, a caste whore", http://leonardoboff.wordpress.com/ 2013/02/23), in which he travels through history in search of the facts that best allow us understand the role of the Catholic Church.
It is well known that the immediate reason of Pope Benedict’s renunciation was the 300-page report prepared by three cardinals after his request. The document describes the struggle of monsignori for power, the operation of a network of gay homosexuality within the Vatican and embezzlements in the Holy See’s Bank. When added to pedophilia cases involving priests, which have been proven worldwide, these facts are more than enough to demoralize and disintegrate fairly solid institutions. But since they were discovered in the oldest institution of the West, we should not expect such consequences, but ask what new changes they will cause. Boff’s article was an effort to look back to history, in search of the lines of development which will weigh in the reform demanded by the new Pope, by Christians and by the whole world.
Boff travels in rapid flight over the history of the Church of Rome to point practices of the same kind the report denounces, in all its periods. He does not hesitate to repurpose St. Augustine’s saying that the church is holy and sinful, and that her being holy does not prevent her being sinful and vice versa.
This interpretation of the Church’s character is imbued with the power of calling people’s attention. But what most impresses us in Boff’s article is the foundation on which he anchors it. In summary, he says the historical crimes of the Church of Rome (her sinful side) are caused by the pyramidal organization she gave herself. States that this structural design was adopted from the reform promoted by Pope Gregory VII in the eleventh century, which aimed to combat and, if possible, to eliminate those crimes. And based on the renowned ecclesiastical historian Jean-Yves Congar, he suggests that the Gregorian reform splitted Catholic history into its two great halves, the first of which lasted until the eleventh century, and was followed by the monarchical period in which power was concentrated in the Vatican.
In order to make Boff’s prosecution against the Church more understandable, it is useful to specify her historical crimes. But the blames are so numerous that we will divide them into classes and mention a few from each category to form a frame, albeit pale, of the main historical errors of the Church.
Let us start from murder. In the fourth century, two parties struggled for the office of Bishop of Rome. Existing reports show that, together, the two factions killed 136 people (FO, Jacopo, TOMAT, Sergio and MALUCELLI, Laura. The black book of Christianity - two thousand years of crimes in the name of God. Rio de Janeiro: Ediouro, 2007. p. 77). Unfortunately, at that time, Christian bloodshed was still in its beginning. Any history book reports that, at its peak, it led to the death of a million people, during the First Crusade.
But from murder, let us pass to the crime of torture. The Inquisition introduced this practice in law, in a form considered "clean", since punishments were inflicted to induce the retraction of the accused. With this purpose, Inquisition officers used to announce the punishment and immediatly postpone it, so that the accused could abjure his errors. They also displayed the instruments of torture to the person before the beginning of the ordeal (COMPARATO, Fábio Konder. Carta Capital. 12/09/2012). Torture was not abolished in the courts of the Inquisition until a papal bull banned it in 1816, six centuries after its adoption.
Consider slavery. When the Jesuits were expelled from Brazil in 1759, they had 17 sugar estates and seven of cattle (with more than 100 thousand heads), all operated by black slave labor (COMPARATO, Fábio Konder. Idem). All major organizers of slave trade in America were priests. An estimated 20 million were brought from Africa by them. The average life span of these people, from landing on Christian soil, was a mere seven years (Fo, Jacopo, TOMAT, Sergio and MALUCELLI, Laura. Opus cited. p. 21). The Church only condemned slavery in 1888, in the Encyclical In plurimis, by Leo XIII.
Debauchery. John XII is often cited as one of the most promiscuous Popes in history as well as in the black century between Stephen VI and Gregory V. His fame is told, but his crimes are usually jumped by Catholic historians (FISCHER-WOLLPERT, Rudolph. Popes - from Peter to John Paul II. 5th ed., Petropolis: Voices, 1999. p. 63-64). It is necessary to resort to complaint works in order to learn his deeds and those of Popes like him. John "slept with his father’s prostitutes and had relations with his own mother. He also regaled lovers with chalices of gold, considered relics of St. Peter's, blinded a cardinal and castrated another, causing his death. Gripped the offerings made by pilgrims to bet on games. During the court’s gambling, he used to evoke pagan gods to have luck when throwing the dice. "Deposed by a synod, John retaliated brutally. Instead of excommunicating, he executed and mutilated all who were part of the synod. A bishop had the skin torn off, a cardinal had his nose and two fingers cut off and the tongue torn out, and 63 members of both clergy and Roman nobility were beheaded. It seems all prayers imploring the death of John XII were heard on May 14th of the year 964, when ‘the Pope was surprised by the husband of a Roman matron, while having sex with her. The enraged husband crushed his skull with a hammer" (Lewis, Brenda Ralph. A secret History of the Popes - addiction, murder and corruption in the Vatican. 4th ed., London: Europe, 2010. p. 31-32).
Looting. In the fifteenth century , Christian monks plundered 18,000 Polish towns (FO, Jacopo, TOMAT, Sergio and MALUCELLI, Laura. Opus cited). Waldensian villages were also looted in 1561, by troops loyal to the Pope.
Exploitation. In the fateful year of 1517, the indulgence called Rate Camarae was sold to the faithful to cancel several sins. Adulterous women and men could pay 87 pounds and three pence to continue their relationship with the blessings of the Church. When a woman commited incest with her son, she should add six pounds to that sum. For the acquittal of manslaughter, 15 pounds four pence were charged. The same amount was paid if a man had killed two or more, since he had done it in the same day. To purge the drowning of his own son, a man should pay 17 pounds and 15 pence. For the murder of a brother, a sister, a father or a mother, he would pay 17 pounds and five pence. For allowance to get married, a friar was charged 45 pounds plus 19 pence. And heresy was taxed 269 pounds (Opus cited. pp. 164-165). "There was no crime, not even the most cruel, that could not be forgiven for a fee", write Fo, Tomat and Malucelli (Opus cited. p. 166).
Falsifying documents. This practice usually had the purpose of forging solemn acts to increase or justify the authority of the Pope. In the ninth century, the most successful of them was carried out: the decretals of Isidore, which were used for the "complete transformation of the constitution and government of the church" (JANUS. The Pope and the Council. 2nd ed., São Paulo:Saraiva, 1930. p. 423). Following the command of Gregory VII, Anselm of Lucca selected forgeries of Pseudo-Isidore and created a number of other false decrees, in order to centralize ecclesiastical power in that Pope (Opus cited. p. 420-421). In the sixteenth century, 100 other decretals were forged and used with the same purpose.
These crimes are no more than a brief report of what the Church perpetrated in the name of God. Similar acts were committed by churches outside the communion of Rome, before she assumed the hallucinated claim of unlimited power that distinguished her. It must be added that, after their schisms, Orthodox and Protestants practiced similar things.
Boff is adamant about Catholic errors. "Political and princely resistance”, he writes, “distorted or prevented all attempts at reform". The resistance alluded was not exercised against injustice, but against justice. It was resistance to the elimination of the evils just mentioned, which indicates that opposition to reform was never diffuse. It never came from many places with the same intensity, but was concentrated in palaces and principalities around the Roman court.
Rather than eliminate crimes, the concentration of power in the Pope, which Gregory promoted and that remains to this day, has always stimulated the multiplication of errors and scandals. Concentrated power leads to madness those who gravitate around it. It leads them to think and practice follies, with a view to approaching the core of the ecclesiastical structure to part the authority, privileges, wealth and customs that abound there.
Boff cites the famous theologian Hans Urs Balthasar, who referred to the Church as "chaste prostitute" (BALTHASAR, Hans Urs. Sponsa verbi. Einsiedeln, 1971. p. 203-325). He also mentions Ratzinger, who in 1969 wrote that, alongside serious sins, there has always existed a tradition of prophetic denunciation of them in the Church. For Ratzinger, the Peter of the period before Pentecost cannot be separated from the one who came after.
We need to remember that, when a Roman theologian speaks of Peter so solemnly, the papal institution is meant. It is thus clear that Ratzinger sees the inseparable mixture of holiness and sin at the background of the entire history of the Church. For this reason, he never failed to mention Balthasar and his doctrine of the chaste whore both before and during his pontificate. And for the same reason, after reading the report on the Curia cardinals, Benedict took the resolution to renounce his throne. He felt he was not a Gregory to lead the Church in the way of a reform always desired and never attained.
This is the picture Benedict’s renunciation recalls. What should we, as non-Catholics, think about it? First of all, as members of the evangelical church, we should no longer view these old problems in the old way, i.e. in the way of conviction. I mean we must not insist on the old verdict that the Church is incorrigible and hopelessly apostate. It is time to remind ourselves that the serious errors of the seven churches of Revelation were pointed by the Son of God, not by men. So, no church has the ground to condemn another superiorly.
Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant Churches are all institutions. And it is as institutions that they must be understood, not as idealizations. The doctrine which preaches that all institutions are impure is tainted by excessive purism. Though institutions provide many examples of contradiction between what they intend and what they do, we should not disregard their role of keeping and transmitting from generation to generation what individuals cannot. Individuals are born and die. Institutions prevent the disappearance of their legacy.
However, an institution is good when it does good; it is bad when it does bad. It is never good in itself or because it is an institution. What unmitigated nonsense it is to say an authority should be followed because it belongs to this or to that institution! The Church is not holy or sinful because it is the Church. It is good because it does good, and bad because it does bad.
That is why we must carefully inquire if the Catholic Church has done good things. And must admit she has done very many. I will give only two examples, whose transcendental importance will suffice as a reason. The first is the preservation of the Bible. If we are able to open the Gospels and read them today, it is because Catholics copied and passed them on from generation to generation. This is a first, strong reason not to lose respect for Catholics and not to tell them with a superior air: you banned Bible reading! Yes, they did it for a long time, and it screwed up badly. But their error was not enough to erase the work of transmitting the Bible to us, so that through it we could become Christians.
Do not say it is impossible to determine whether or not the Bible would have been handed to us without Catholic medieval copyists. We are not here to discuss what our parents would have done if America had not been discovered. Nor are we supposed to finish the balance of Catholic history. We know that America was discovered, and that we received the gospel by means of the Church, despite all the mistakes she made in the process.
We are not here to write the Bible from scratch. We are here because we received it as it is. These two things are very different. However, today’s world is full of Bible infatuated parents, who call themselves Christians in spite of everyone else and against the works of every institution. As if they did not read the Bible these institutions gave them. As if the Bible that touches them and us were not transmitted by human means. For Moses never sat down and wrote the Pentateuch. The history of the formation of the Bible is very different from this,and it keeps the most intimate relationship with Jewish and Catholic institutions.
There has always been and there will always be people dissatisfied with their condition as heirs of institutions. But because they are not happy, they do not have the right to take the Bible as if it had fallen from the sky right in their lap. As if no one had copied, studied, and asked God to enlighten them while doing it. As if no tears had been stored in those wineskins of parchment.
Another example of the great achievements of the Catholics is the relief of the poor, that for many centuries was carried out by the Church in the Western world. In times when the State did not offer services of social care, this role fell to the Church, which performed it almost alone. These are some reasons why we should not consider the Catholic Church a mere abomination, as Protestants to some extent still do. This is why, though historical facts remain the same, our interpretation of them must change.
Do these achievements make the Church a glorious institution? Yes, they do, as long as she understands her good works as divine gifts. This consideration is the glory of a Catholic as well as of an Orthodox or a Protestant. God is the God of all. And if he who glories in the Lord is a Catholic, an Orthodox, a Protestant or a savage, the glory of the Lord is also for him. Or does the glory of God have a party?
We no longer live the fierce, the insoluble Catholic-Orthodox opposition of Photios time, or the division of the XVI century Reformation to rejoice or be astonished at the evils that come out of the Pandora's box of the Vatican. If the Church is holy and sinful, all Christian institutions also are. And if our institutions are, we are. Institutions are nothing other than reflections of the fornications and the glories of individuals. Nobody lives out of them. Nobody is better or worse than they. We are our own misery and the glory of God.

quinta-feira, 17 de outubro de 2013

The Historical Moses (2)

In the last post of this series, we saw that Moses life must be situated at the end of the Hyksos period of Egyptian history, which coordinates the stories of the patriarchs with events of that foreign country. In this post, we will see how this link of Genesis with the history of great nations like Egypt was probably built.
It cannot be doubted that waves of foreigners used to move into Egypt, at the time of the patriarchs, in search of the gifts with which the Nile often crowned that land. The rulers of Egypt even booked a specific place to house the foreigners who flocked thither, namely the Nile Delta.
At that site, we assume that the Israelites have lived. And it is indeed there that the Bible places Jacob’s sons, when arriving at Egypt, since the Land of Goshen, mentioned as their abode, was on the Delta. There also emerged Moses, upon returning from Midian. And the Bible also tells Moses and Aaron’s frequent displacements to Pharaoh's court, to ask him to free the Israelites. If the court were not in the Delta, it would have been impossible for the two brothers to have come as often to the ruler’s presence as Exodus tells us.
However, History shows that the Court of Pharaoh was established in the Delta in only two seasons: during the Hyksos Period and in the long reign of Ramses II of the XIX Dynasty. In all other stages of Egypt’s history, the Pharaohs’ court settled in places far from the Delta , which prevents the constant displacements from Goshen to the king’s palace and vice versa.
This leaves us with only two periods when the Exodus may have occurred. Not only that. Another set of data reinforces this double possibility: only the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries b. C. provide traces of the destruction of cities in Canaan which the Bible locates shortly after the Exodus. In all other ages, no such traces are available.
Of course the existence of two possible locations for the Exodus does not justify the thirteenth century having been taken as the time of the great event by the vast majority of historians. What is the reason of such a preference? The answer is related to the general attitude of scholars towards the chronological data of the Old Testament. The Pentateuch and the historical books provide us with two sets of chronological locations of the events they narrate. The first one can be called remote chronology. The other is the more recent chronology, formed with data from the courts of Samaria and Jerusalem.
Historians do not doubt the accuracy of Bible’s recent chronology, since, in the courts of Ancient Orient, there were officials responsible for recording the main events, whereas in other contexts events were narrated much less accurately. It was no different in the case of the Israelites, whose first court was organized by David. The oldest evidence of Hebrew writings we know come from places near Jerusalem, where David and Solomon’s court was established. It is thus believable that the records related to recent chronology have been composed in that language.
But since Israel had no court and no written language before that time, the accuracy of the chronology of Kings and Chronicles is apparently not repeated in the remote chronology. It is meaningful that most of the time slots of that chronology is constituted by round numbers such as 40. For example, the pilgrimage of Israel in the wilderness (Num. 14:33-34), the activity of judges like Othniel (Judges 3:11), Ehud, Shamgar (Judges 3:30), Barak (Judges 5:32) and Gideon (Judges 8:28) were all assigned this term. The same happens with the reigns of Saul (Acts 13:21), David (1 Kings 2:11; 1 Cr 3:4) and Solomon (2 Chron. 29:30), which are supposed to have lasted 40 years. Not to mention other round numbers, like the 140 years between the births of Abraham and Isaac (Gen. 11:26,32 ; 12:4 ) and the 100 between Isaac and Jacob (Gen. 21:5). Historians think that the actual lengths of the periods related to these numbers are uncertain.
 For these reasons, they also conclude that the times and content of remote facts of Israel’s Prehistory were arbitrarily established, so that trusted history starts from the period of the divided kingdom. This is the present status of the discussions on the history of the Israelites and their peculiar chronology.
However, the conclusion just mentioned contains a hole, a flaw that can be demonstrated as follows. It is possible to establish a few fixed points, which correspond to events that appear both in the Bible and in parallel History. Noah's Flood is one of these possible points. If it can be identified with the events referred to in Gilgamesh’ poem, it probably took place in the first half of the third millenium b. C. Traces of flooding have been dated from that period, thus providing a good example of outward confirmation of biblical data.
But this is not the only case of convergence of biblical and non-biblical data. The founder of Ancient Assyria (Sargon) is widely known from inscriptions and testimonies. It is not unlikely that Sargon was one of Nimrod’s descendants (Gen. 10:10-11). We have much archaeological evidence that biblical Nimrod was an outstanding personality. So, this is a second point of convergence of biblical and extra-biblical information coming from remote times. Though the details about those characters and their deeds remain unclear, their existence at the time in which the Bible situates them can be fairly drawn from all data available. And we can also mention the conquerors of the Tribes, at the period of the judges, such as Chushan-Rishathaim, Eglon, Jabin and others whose deeds are consistent with what we know of Old Palestine and its neighborhood. So, not few events are confirmed both by biblical and extra-biblical information about that age.
The question, therefore, is if the dates of the events of the Pentateuch, Joshua and Judges (called remote history), indicated by round numbers, can be considered correct. It is obvious that the use of round numbers leads to the establishment of arbitrary times. How can it be different only with a few of them? For instance, how can the interval between the Flood and the occupation of Transjordan by the Philistines be correct, if it was established by so many round dates?
Let me try to make it more clear: if A, B , C, D, E and F are remote events, and if the distances between any two of them is arbitrary, how can the interval between D and E be correct? How can that be, if the events of old were dated by a method which involved so many round numbers?
On the other hand, we must not forget that many dates in remote history are not round. In the genealogy of Genesis 5, we have nine numbers, and only two round ones, which does not diverge clearly from the characteristics of a random distribution of numbers. The situation of the genealogy of Genesis 11 is not very distinct. In it, round numbers were used to complete the existing information, not to create information out of nothing.
And if the establishment of non-round numbers was based on real information, we must ask whether it was reliable. It probably was, since its use led to the establishment of correct dates. In fact, we cannot be sure that the non-round numbers of the genealogies of Genesis 5 and 11 came from very ancient courts. The generations included in those lists are old, but not prehistoric. They also lived in one of the most developed places in ancient times: Mesopotamia. Lists with the dates we see in Genesis may have been written in small courts of that region. It is probably what happened. When the Jews got in contact with those lists, during the Babylonian Exile, in Mesopotamia, they used them to compose Genesis 5 and 11, which formed the framework of that period of Hebrew history.
All these facts tell us that biblical information about remote times may well be reliable. And if it is, the Exodus must be located in the sixteenth century, for it is there that the Bible places it. And when we read that Moses and Aaron went to Pharaoh and returned to the Hebrew homes, again and again, we know that scene was possible only in the Hyksos Period. Thus, Josephus hypothesis about the time of the Exodus is confirmed.
The palace in which Moses was raised was that of the Hyksos ruler. The daughter of Pharaoh, who nursed him in his first age, also had Hykso blood. Moses, therefore, absorbed the culture of that people as well as the Egyptian culture. Apparently, the Hyksos spoke West Semitic. However, they may not have used an alphabet-based writing, since there was no alphabet in Egypt or anywhere else in the seventeenth century. Though Moses must have learned the Egyptian hieroglyphics, it is doubtful that he used the language of Israel's enemies to write the sacred words of his God. If this were the case, the technique employed by Moses to register the words mentioned in Exodus 17,14 may have been similar to the first texts "made with what appears to be an alphabet". These texts were created "by a group of prisoners who were working in the turquoise mines of the Sinai peninsula in 1600 b. C." (Miller and Stephen M. HUBER, Robert V. The Bible and its history - emergence and impact of the Bible.  Barueri Bible: Bible Society of Brazil, 2010. p. 17.). Since Israel's wandering in the Sinai occurred about 1,578 b. C., the use of the writing technique discovered in Sinai cannot be ruled out.
This book surrounded by mystery must have contained the first versions of the sagas of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, as well as the story of the Israelites escape from Egypt. If it did, it will not be incorrect to state that it included a Short Genesis and a Short Exodus, which were the first embryonic forms of the Pentateuch. These ancient versions of Genesis and Exodus may be the reason why the writing of the Pentateuch was assigned to Moses throughout the centuries.
Joshua 8:32,34-35 confirm the Mosaic authorship of an ancient writing. It says that his successor Joshua wrote, on Mount Ebal, "a copy of the law of Moses, which he had written before the children of Israel [. ..And Joshua also read all the words of the law, both the blessing and the curse, according to all that was written in the book of the law. Not a single word of all that Moses had commanded was ommited to the congregation of Israel." And, if Joshua read all the law to the people, at a time when illiteracy and disinterest for texts were very high, that law must have been much shorter than the Pentateuch or the set of books from Genesis to Exodus. It must have been no more than a few pages long, which fits perfectly into the theory of the authorship of a Small Genesis and a Small Exodus by Moses.
However, all these colors and lines only fit in the big screen of the Hyksos kingdom established in Egypt. The book of Exodus is not situated in the Empire of Ramses, who rebuilt Avaris much later and called it after his name. We are in the twilight of the Hyksos power over the Delta, which was the very dawn of one of the most distinguished people which has ever lived.
The sun of the Nile valley projected its rays on the complexion of an aged Moses, which on the mountain, a few days later, would rejuvenate and shine in glory.

domingo, 13 de outubro de 2013

Evidências da Criação (1):Colunas do Céu e da Terra

Muito antes de os relatos de Gênesis 1 e 2 sobre a criação serem escritos, os povos do Oriente Médio compartilhavam uma cosmovisão em que o Universo era representado como um semicírculo dividido em camadas que repousavam sobre colunas materiais. A camada superior era o céu empíreo, abaixo do qual estavam sucessivamente situados o oceano celeste, o céu sidéreo, a terra, o oceano terrestre e o lugar dos mortos. O céu empíreo e o oceano superior apoiavam-se nas águas inferiores. O céu sidéreo e a terra erguiam-se sobre colunas. Nessa arrebatadora visão, chama particularmente a atenção os papeis de sustentação dos céus e do oceano superior desempenhados pelas águas inferiores e pelas colunas do mundo.
Vestígios de uma representação semelhante do Universo podem ser encontrados em textos como Jó 9, 26, 28 e 38, Salmos 8, 19, 24, 90, 102, 104 e 148, Provérbios 8, Amós 9:6 e Isaías 40, entre outros. Em Jó 26:11, lemos: “As colunas do céu tremem”. Amós 9:6 reitera: “Deus é o que edifica as suas câmaras no céu e a sua abóbada fundou na terra”. As colunas da terra, por sua vez, aparecem em textos ainda mais numerosos, a exemplo de 1º de Samuel 2:8, Jó 9:6, Salmos 18:15, 24:2, 75:3, 102:25, 104:5, Provérbios 8:29 e Isaías 24:18.
Tantas referências aos alicerces, nos quais os mundos celeste e terreno descansam, impõem a compreensão de que os relatos da criação de Gênesis pressupõem esse cenário natural e a ele se referem. Não podemos deixar de reconhecer que esse é um dado incômodo, pois há muito sabemos que os mecanismos de sustentação dos céus e das águas superiores afirmados pelos antigos eram equivocados.
O que nem sempre se percebe é que o incômodo começou nos próprios tempos bíblicos e aumentou nos primeiros séculos da era cristã. Uma das causas dele foi a influência das obras de astrônomos e filósofos gregos, egípcios e babilônicos, sobre os teólogos como Ambrósio e Orígenes, que conceberam a natureza de maneira diferente da tradicional. Porém, o compromisso desses teólogos com as Escrituras era inabalável demais para considerarmos que eles trocaram suas concepções bíblicas por ideias astronômicas mais avançadas. Devemos, antes, perguntar se eles não encontraram, na própria Bíblia, motivos para reinterpretar o mundo físico, assim como os filósofos e astrônomos tinham encontrado os seus próprios motivos na investigação da natureza.
Não é possível compreender o que os primeiros teólogos cristãos realizaram, no tocante à descrição do mundo físico, sem admitir que, de algum modo, eles problematizaram as referências bíblicas à constituição sólida do firmamento, às colunas dos céus e da terra e a outros aspectos da mundivisão do homem antigo. Problematizar não significa, aqui, rejeitar (pois isso eles nunca fizeram, nem poderiam ter feito), mas manifestar dúvidas e sugerir novas interpretações das expressões das Escrituras que refletem aquelas concepções mais antigas.
Ao iniciar esta série sobre a criação bíblica, parto desses pensadores cristãos dos séculos II a VI, pois as desconfianças que nutriram em relação à visão de mundo antiga não podem ser atribuídas à vontade de corrigi-la com base em descobertas científicas. Se nós, que vivemos no século XXI, sugeríssemos uma exegese da criação que harmonizasse o relato da Bíblia com a ciência atual, seríamos tidos como suspeitos, já que é fácil corrigir equívocos depois que eles se tornam patentes. Mas os autores antigos não conheceram a ciência moderna, que tornou os equívocos evidentes. Portanto, as desconfianças que mantiveram em relação à mundivisão arcaica merece ser investigada para verificarmos se, afinal, eles não encontraram, na própria Bíblia, motivos para relativizá-la.
No século VI, Boécio sintetizou os avanços alcançados pelos astrônomos e os questionamentos dos teólogos cristãos, numa passagem célebre: “Toda a extensão da Terra, como bem o sabes graças às demonstrações dos astrônomos, comparada à extensão do Céu, não passa de um pequeno ponto: isso quer dizer que, comparada à extensão dos céus, a magnitude da Terra não é quase nada. E, dessa região tão ínfima, apenas um quarto, segundo os cálculos de Ptolomeu, é habitado por seres vivos. E, se desse quarto tu tirares toda a superfície ocupada por oceanos, lagos, desertos, etc., restará uma ínfima parte onde habitam os homens" (BOÉCIO, Severino. A consolação da Filosofia. São Paulo: Martins Fontes, 2012. p. 46).
A descrição dos céus de Boécio desafia a concepção geocêntrica do semicírculo calcado em colunas, que colocava a terra no centro do Universo. Ela resulta, manifestamente, do aparecimento de uma visão concorrente sobre o mundo físico, que se desenvolveu na Grécia, em Israel e outros povos.
Sobre a passagem do Livro de Jó que afirma que Deus “faz pairar a terra sobre o nada” (Jó 26:7), Ambrósio de Milão se pronunciou da seguinte maneira: “Deus suspende a terra no nada. Não importa discutir se ela está suspensa no ar ou em cima da água, para que daí nasça uma controvérsia: de que modo a natureza do ar, tênue e muito mole, pode sustentar o peso da terra? Ou então, se está sobre as águas, como é que a massa das terras não cai e não afunda nelas? [...] Assim como a terra está suspensa no vazio e permanece imóvel devido ao equilíbrio de peso em toda parte, assim também a água é equilibrada com a terra por pesos superiores ou iguais ao seu. Por isso o mar não se espalha facilmente sobre as terras” (MILÃO, Ambrósio de. Examerão - os seis dias da criação. São Paulo: Paulus, 2009. p. 66).
As citações acima refletem a crença de que a terra repousa sobre fundamentos sólidos, tanto quanto sobre a água e o ar. Esses três elementos misturam-se sob o solo, e o modo específico da mistura é responsável pela sustentação da terra e dos mares.
Por isso, de acordo com Ambrósio: “Não podemos pensar que a terra esteja realmente apoiada sobre colunas, mas sim sobre aquela virtude que sustenta e mantém a sua substância” (idem. p. 35). A palavra virtude não é aqui empregada em sentido moral, mas físico. Indica uma propriedade da matéria. E não há motivo para duvidarmos de que o emprego de tais termos nos remete a uma autêntica reinterpretação das colunas subterrâneas.
Vejamos, porém, outro aspecto da visão antiga. Muitos sustentam que a crença na existência de águas sobre o firmamento era um equívoco, mas esse juízo só é possível se adotarmos a perspectiva do homem moderno. Para os antigos, a palavra água tinha sentido elástico, como se depreende da seguinte passagem de Ambrósio: “Uma só e a mesma é a água e geralmente assume aparências diferentes [...] Fica ácida nos sucos prematuros; torna-se amarga no absinto; tem sabor mais intenso no vinho, mais azedo em outras bebidas, gosto ruim no veneno, doce no mel [...] Algumas espécies de águas produzem seiva mais amarga, outras mais doces, umas tardias, outras precocemente. Seus próprios perfumes também se distinguem entre si. Um é o perfume da videira, outro da oliveira, outro das cerejeiras, outro da figueira, diferente na macieira, ímpar na tamareira” (idem. pp. 121-122).
O homem antigo não tinha à mão as informações científicas que nós possuímos sobre a natureza. Considerava que os sucos, vinhos, seivas e resinas de árvores continham água ou eram água acrescida de outras propriedades. Claro que, com tantas formas possíveis de água, dificilmente o judeu e o cristão se atreviam a afirmar, de maneira precisa, como eram as águas sobre o firmamento.
É oportuno lembrar que, antes de Ambrósio, o autor de Jó reconhecera sua ignorância sobre o que havia nos céus: “Acaso a chuva tem pai? Ou quem gera as gotas do orvalho? De que ventre procede o gelo? E quem dá à luz a geada do céu? [...] Sabes tu as ordenanças dos céus, podes estabelecer a sua influência sobre a terra? [...] Quem pôs sabedoria nas camadas de nuvens? Ou quem deu entendimento ao meteoro? Quem pode numerar com sabedoria as nuvens? (Jó 38:28-29,33,36-37)”.
Os questionamentos de Ambrósio ecoam os do Livro de Jó. Mas, se o autor bíblico formula tantos questionamentos, é mesmo possível entendermos os seus ditos como sentenças definitivas sobre a natureza, a exemplo do que alguns cristãos até hoje fazem? Não tinha razão Ambrósio ao aprofundar os questionamentos de Jó, em vez de transformá-los em afirmações peremptórias?
Ambrósio delineou sua própria síntese do que se sabia e não se sabia, na sua época, a respeito dos céus: “Nós ouvimos os trovões produzidos pela colisão das nuvens [...] Que digam com exatidão de que forma o ar se condensa em nuvem e se a chuva é produzida pelas nuvens. Vemos muitas vezes as nuvens saírem dos montes. Pergunto: é a água que sobe das terras ou a que está acima dos céus que desce em grande aguaceiro? Se a água sobe, é certamente contra a natureza que ela sobe para o alto, porque é mais pesada e é transportada pelo ar, que é mais tênue” (idem. pp. 62, 65-66).
Claramente, Ambrósio admite que a água sobe da terra às nuvens, mas não explica como um líquido pode transformar-se em ar, e este condensar-se em nuvem. Ele sabe que as chuvas resultam da colisão de nuvens, mas desconhece como ou por que isso ocorre.
As palavras de Ambrósio sobre o movimento ascendente das águas da terra às nuvens refletem a declaração de Isaías: "Assim como descem a chuva e a neve dos céus, e para lá não tornam, sem que primeiro reguem a terra e a fecundem e a façam brotar, para dar semente ao semeador e pão ao que come, assim será a palavra que sair da minha boca: não voltará para mim vazia, mas fará o que me apraz, e prosperará naquilo para que a designei" (Is 55:10-11). Se a chuva e a neve descem dos céus e para lá não tornam, sem que reguem a terra e fecundem o solo, segue-se que retornam depois de o terem feito. Poderia haver descrição mais coincidente com o que a ciência também nos ensina sobre a evaporação da água na terra?
O autor de Jó declarou que Deus “estende o norte sobre o vazio” (Jó 26:7), que ele “é quem sozinho estende os céus” (Jó 9:8). O salmista e o livro de Isaías o corroboram: “Deus estende o céu como uma cortina” (Sl 104:2); “É ele quem estende os céus como cortina” (Is 40:22).
O verbo estender, utilizado nesses versículos, sugere que o céu não é fixo. Torna também implícito que o firmamento criado no segundo e no quarto dias de Gênesis 1 é aéreo e não sólido. Por isso ele é tratado, em Gênesis, Jó, Salmos e Isaías, como expansão. Em nenhum desses versos, há sinal da abóbada celeste sólida assentada sobre colunas, que tendem a desaparecer do texto bíblico.
Devemos reconhecer, nessas passagens, as verdadeiras sementes do movimento de suspeição e relativização da mundivisão arcaica, que autores do Período Patrístico como Ambrósio e Boécio desenvolveram até as últimas consequências. A visão antiga não foi abandonada por eles, mas podemos considerar que ela foi revirada e reinterpretada como uma série de questionamentos, hipóteses, enfim como variações sobre a natureza inseridas no interior da própria Bíblia.
Essas conjecturas e variações traduzem-se numa palavra: problematização. O homem atual sente forte atração por doutrinas prontas e definidas. Mas é forçoso reconhecer que as Escrituras não contêm apenas isso. Só algumas doutrinas, nelas, são prontas e definidas. A maior parte foi afirmada como verdades parciais ou apenas possíveis.
Nunca é demais lembrar que, no caso dos versos sobre a natureza, a problematização amplia-se, quando consideramos que a maior parte deles foi composta em linguagem poética. Praticamente não há afirmações semelhantes, nos textos didáticos, históricos ou doutrinários das Escrituras. A grande exceção é Gênesis 1. Como textos poéticos dão-se a sentidos variáveis e figurados, sequer é possível afirmar que as descrições bíblicas da natureza são, propriamente, certas ou erradas.
Os autores que citei (Boécio e Ambrósio) são apenas dois, entre muitos outros que problematizaram as descrições tradicionais da natureza. Quanta problematização semelhante poderíamos extrair dos três comentários de Santo Agostinho sobre o Gênesis? Quanta quiséssemos. E de Orígenes? Também quanta desejássemos. Darei o exemplo de uma só passagem em que esse último autor conjectura sobre a vida e a alma: “Entre os seres que se movem há uns que são a própria causa do seu movimento, e há outros que só se movem por algo externo. Movem-se apenas a partir de fora aqueles objetos que podemos transportar, como as madeiras [...] Têm em si mesmos a causa do seu movimento os animais, as plantas e, em resumo, tudo o que subsiste devido à sua natureza e tem alma. Dizem que também os veios metálicos e, além disso, o fogo têm seu próprio movimento, e talvez até as fontes de água” (ALEXANDRIA, Orígenes. Contra Celso. São Paulo: Paulus, 2004).
Que concluir de todas essas considerações, a não ser que os autores patrísticos questionaram quanto lhes foi possível a cosmovisão antiga e que o fizeram, acima de tudo, a partir da própria Bíblia? A obra desses autores mostra que a concepção judaicocristã da natureza surgiu da desintegração da cosmovisão antiga. Portanto, não a reproduziu, nem a reafirmou, como tanto se propala. Se elementos da representação arcaica do mundo podem ser encontrados nas Escrituras, é muito mais com o sentido de problemas do que de afirmações. Muito mais com o significado de questões do que de dogmas.

quarta-feira, 9 de outubro de 2013

O Senhor é o Meu Pastor

Se a Bíblia é o livro mais lido do mundo, Salmos é o livro mais lido da Bíblia, e por motivos bem fortes. Nele, mais que em toda outra parte das Escrituras, a doutrina revelada por Deus é, sistematicamente, inserida em situações de vida, nas quais os sentimentos dos que as experimentam ocupam lugar de destaque. Essa metamorfose da revelação em vida é o que mais explica o interesse das pessoas pelos Salmos.
Poderíamos pensar que, à frente de uma coletânea de poemas tão celestiais quanto os cânticos bíblicos, deveria ser posto um texto inteiramente devocional. Porém, se isso tivesse ocorrido, a conexão entre os Salmos e a doutrina revelada (a lei) não seria posta em relevo. Para evitar esse desencontro, o poema escolhido para servir de abertura ao livro nos fala, propositadamente, de um homem que tem a lei no seu coração e nela medita dia e noite.
A lei não foi entregue a Israel para servir de regra inflexível de comportamento, mas como motivo de meditação. Ela devia estar no coração do homem e ser meditada, em todos os momentos da vida comum e cotidiana. Podemos afirmar, confiantemente, que os Salmos são a plena realização disso.
Ao ser meditada, a lei de Deus torna-se um espelho para o homem. Na sua superfície, o homem reconhece a sua verdadeira compleição moral: seus sofrimentos, seus esforços para realizar o bem e a agonizante insuficiência deles. Assim, a lei se transforma em parte integrante da antropologia da Bíblia, por nos revelar o coração partido do homem.
Salmos é a oficina, o laboratório divino, em que a lei é, primeiro, transformada em situações de vida e, depois, em cânticos. Por terem percebido esse fato, alguns dos copistas do livro acrescentaram-lhe subtítulos que especificam os supostos autores dos poemas, bem como as situações em que foram escritos. O objetivo dessas epígrafes, que não fazem parte do texto bíblico, não é estabelecer quem, de fato, compôs os Salmos. Seria impossível copistas definirem tão grande número de autores desconhecidos, depois da elaboração dos poemas. Por isso, o objetivo deles, ao acrescentar as epígrafes, foi inserir os poemas em biografias ou situações de vida de personagens bem conhecidas.
Com isso, os autores das epígrafes salientaram ainda mais uma característica ressaltada dos Salmos e que independe dos subtítulos: a conexão dos poemas com a vida como os judeus a viam e sentiam, isto é, como um vale de lágrimas que apenas Deus pode converter em outra coisa. De fato, há 15 categorias de Salmos: a mais numerosa, por ampla margem, é a dos poemas de lamentação. Mesmo os salmos que não contêm apenas lamentos, às vezes possuem prefácios que expressam sofrimentos e queixas.
Torna-se, pois, evidente que, se os Salmos inserem a doutrina revelada por Deus na existência cotidiana do homem, essa existência é apresentada como um caminho repleto de sofrimentos. Esse é o pano de fundo do livro. Podemos afirmar que é, ao mesmo tempo, o contexto de toda a Bíblia. De modo que, se os Salmos e as Escrituras realizam algo prático, é converter esse calvário em alegria, até mesmo em felicidade. Por isso, quase todos os Salmos que começam com lamentos terminam em ações de graças ou declarações de esperança em Deus. E o Saltério como um todo começa com as queixas dos primeiros poemas e termina com o louvor retumbante dos últimos.
Poucos poemas, porém, retratam a confiança em Deus de maneira mais simples e límpida do que o vigésimo-terceiro salmo. Os sofrimentos são nele mencionados só de passagem, sob a forma do vale da sombra da morte, no versículo 4, e dos inimigos do quinto verso. Não há detalhamento algum seja dos perigos do vale, seja da perversidade dos inimigos do autor do poema. Só os cuidados do pastor e os benefícios providos pelo anfitrião que prepara uma mesa na presença dos inimigos são descritos em minúcias. Vejamos como isso se dá.
Os quatro primeiros versículos desenvolvem a imagem do pastor que cuida de sua ovelha. Uma série de experiências pastoris enriquece essa imagem e desperta a atenção dos leitores, que se esforçam para estabelecer o que significa nada faltar à ovelha, o repouso nos pastos verdejantes, as águas de descanso, as veredas da justiça, o vale da sombra da morte, a vara, o cajado e o consolo provido por eles.
Não é tarefa fácil interpretar esses símbolos, já que não temos indício certo do que significam na esfera espiritual. Sabemos que os itens positivos devem significar coisas espiritualmente boas, e os negativos, coisas más, porém não temos como determinar exatamente o quê, sem acrescentarmos algo nosso ao texto. Essa é uma dificuldade sempre presente, quando a interpretação alegórica entra em questão e é melhor não tentarmos superá-la por recursos pessoais e não bíblicos.
Melhor do que atribuir significado a cada item é estabelecer o sentido geral do salmo, como Paulo fazia ao tratar de alegorias. Para isso, é preciso partir do versículo 1, que esclarece que o pastor é Deus. E, como Cristo revela Deus plenamente, podemos afirmar que ele é também retratado na figura do pastor. É o que João 10 claramente confirma. Quanto à ovelha, não é preciso afirmar que representa o seguidor de Deus e de Cristo. Não um seguidor qualquer, mas aquele que ouve a sua voz e a reconhece.
Resta, porém, estabelecer o significado de outro elemento central do salmo: a relação do pastor com a ovelha. Se o horizonte do Antigo Testamento é Cristo, o território que se espraia até ele é formado pelas experiências comuns e cotidianas do povo de Deus. Por isso, cada passagem tem Cristo como horizonte implícito, é nesse sentido messiânica, porém nos remete imediatamente às experiências da época em que foi escrita.
No caso do Salmo 23, essa experiência é a do cuidado de Deus, em meio às agruras da vida humana. É até mesmo o cuidado infalível de Deus, pois o autor compreende o resultado das dispensações divinas à sua alma de maneira categórica: “nada me faltará” (v. 1), “bondade e misericórdia certamente me seguirão todos os dias da minha vida” (v. 6) e outras expressões igualmente inequívocas.
Fundamental é notar que esse cuidado maravilhoso, que ultrapassa a compreensão humana, se dá no penoso contexto da existência terrena. Como já disse, esse é o pano de fundo dos Salmos e de todo o Antigo Testamento. A própria cultura grecorromana, embora constituída por povos nutridos na abundância, reconhecia o lugar central dos sofrimentos na vida. Apenas lhes atribuía um valor positivo, pois considerava que, se os vastos céus sujeitam-se a uma ordem inflexível, não pode ser diferente na terra. Como os céus estão em ordem, a terra também está, embora essa ordem, não raro, envolva sofrimentos e nos seja desfavorável.
A concepção grecorromana do sofrimento reflete-se claramente na obra do escritor Boécio, que foi senador e cônsul da Itália no sexto século. Após uma ascensão política meteórica, Boécio caiu na desgraça do rei dos godos, que o encarcerou, torturou e matou. Na prisão, entre as sessões de tortura, Boécio escreveu uma das obras que exerceram maior influência durante a Idade Média, na qual culpou severamente a sorte, o destino, a fortuna, pelos males que lhe tinham sobrevindo, até uma mulher radiante aparecer-lhe e começar a conversar com ele. O leitor logo descobre que a mulher é a Sabedoria, que se dirige ao prisioneiro nos seguintes termos: “Pensas que a Fortuna mudou a teu respeito? Enganas-te. Ela sempre tem os mesmos procedimentos e o mesmo caráter. E, quanto a ti, ela permanece fiel em sua inconstância” (Boécio. A consolação da Filosofia. São Paulo: Martins Fontes, 2012. p. 26).
Quer a Sabedoria dizer que o mundo humano é essencialmente inconstante. Que esse é o seu modo de ser, a sua ordem própria. E, por ser ordem, não é má, mas boa. Porém, a visitante inesperada não cessa de apresentar a Boécio as razões do seu infeliz estado. Mostra que as oscilações da sorte são parte normal da vida humana, como a regularidade é normal no mundo dos astros. E chega ao desfecho espantoso: “Seca portanto estas lágrimas. A Fortuna não foi cruel com toda a tua família [que escapara à perseguição dos godos], e a tempestade que se abateu sobre ti não foi demasiado violenta, pois tuas âncoras são firmes [...] Não posso suportar esse [teu] comportamento fraco, essa maneira de exaltar teu desespero com o pretexto de que algo falta à tua felicidade” (idem. p. 34).
Essa era a maneira romana não de negar o sofrimento, mas de o tratar de modo radicalmente distinto daquele pelo qual o judeu o tratava. Ao prisioneiro torturado e condenado à morte, a Sabedoria foi capaz de sussurrar: “A felicidade pode entrar em toda parte se suportamos tudo sem queixas” (idem. p. 35).
Quanta diferença em relação aos Salmos! Nestes, encontramos autor após autor a queixar-se, a gritar a Deus as suas infelicidades. Nas obras grecorromanas, temos a exaltação da força, da rigidez absoluta do caráter não baseadas na própria força e na rigidez, mas na sabedoria, ou seja, na aceitação de que as mudanças da sorte, os triunfos e os reveses, são inerentes à ordem do mundo. Estamos, enfim, diante de duas maneiras distintas e, às vezes, opostas de tratar o sofrimento. Nenhuma o nega. No fundo, ambas são estratégias para lidar com ele e o superar.
A maneira judaica consiste em confiar em Deus, que não apenas cuida dos seus, mas cuida completamente. “Nada me faltará”, diz o salmista. Paulo completa: “Todas as coisas cooperam para o bem daqueles que amam a Deus” (Rm 8:28). Embora todas as coisas inclua Paulo, Apolo, Cefas, o mundo, a vida, a morte, as coisas presentes e as futuras, como ele diz em 1ª aos Coríntios 3:22, isso não significa que essas coisas não nos possam causar sofrimento, mas que a presença de Deus se torna ainda mais forte nos sofrimentos que elas nos causam.
Essa é também a lição do salmo. Sem pôr nem tirar. “Nada me faltará” é o mesmo que “todas as coisas cooperam para o bem daqueles que amam a Deus”. Nem uma, nem outra dessas promessas significa que o sofrimento não nos atingirá. Prometê-lo seria assegurar que o mundo mudaria de natureza. Deus nunca o disse. Nunca o prometeu. Disse, porém, e prometeu estar conosco, infalivelmente, em todas as situações. Prometeu também dispensar-nos o seu cuidado não de pastor humano, mas de pastor divino: cuidado perfeito e carente de nada.
Nem Salmos, nem Romanos ou Coríntios afirmam que não há sofrimento. Todos garantem, em uníssono, que existe o cuidado divino. “Ainda que eu ande pelo vale da sombra da morte, não temerei mal nenhum, porque tu estás comigo” (Sl 23:4). Nem no vale da sombra da morte, na pior de todas as situações, esse cuidado pode faltar.
No entanto, após ter desenvolvido a figura do pastor e da ovelha, a ponto de orná-la com os mais belos sinais alegóricos, repentinamente, o salmista para. Abandona a figura que até então utilizara. Da imagem dos pastos, das águas e do vale, passa ao banquete que Deus lhe prepara na presença dos seus inimigos. Deus deixa de ser o pastor para passar a ser o anfitrião do banquete. Alguém que o abriga, durante a mortal perseguição promovida por inimigos.
Era costume judaico o perseguidor respeitar a residência de um terceiro inocente, em que o perseguido se refugiasse. O salmista refere-se a esse costume, mas vai além: afirma que o anfitrião prepara uma mesa e o coloca à frente dos seus inimigos, não para fazer um triunfar sobre o outro, mas para os reconciliar.
O objetivo de Deus não é nos fazer triunfar sobre os nossos inimigos. Não é nos levar a oprimir nossos opressores, mas fazer-nos sentar com eles em volta da mesma mesa. “Unges-me a cabeça com óleo; o meu cálice transborda” (Sl 23:5). A unção era um modo costumeiro de demonstrar acolhida e hospitalidade, na Palestina. Era uma das mais exaltadas demonstrações de amor. Lembramo-nos da mulher que quebrou o frasco de alabastro e ungiu Jesus com o seu amor (Lc 7:36-50). Não é outro o sentido da unção no salmo, mas seu emprego é invertido. Deus não é aqui ungido: ele próprio é quem unge o pecador.
Assim, o encontro com os opressores termina como deve: não apenas em reconciliação, mas num grandioso banquete. E isso não porque o salmista ou seus inimigos o mereçam, mas porque é próprio do caráter de Deus fazê-lo. Em momento nenhum, o salmo lida com a categoria do merecimento humano. O tempo todo, ele nos revelas o caráter de Deus.
Quem são nossos inimigos? Não precisamos chegar ao ponto de afirmar que são demônios. São antes seres da mesma natureza do salmista, seus concidadãos, filhos do mesmo pai. Assim como Esaú, que nasceu depois, persegue Jacó e, na parábola do filho pródigo, ao contrário, o que nasce primeiro persegue o mais novo, no Salmo 23 vemos inimigos perseguirem o servo de Deus. As três histórias, porém, terminam em reconciliação, clara ou implícita.
Jesus ensinou-nos a orar pelos nossos inimigos. Os exemplos citados mostram que, sob a graça, essa oração será respondida.

segunda-feira, 7 de outubro de 2013

The Historical Moses (1)

No historical fact is of greater importance to the theological teaching of the Old Testament than the Exodus and the formation of Israel under the leadership of Moses. If these events are real or if the reliability of the narratives which convey them is high, the impact on theology and on disciplines such as history and literature will be so strong that will trigger inevitable pressure towards broader cultural changes.
I refer not only to the miraculous aspects of the narrative, but to its factual framework. If the fundamental facts of the departure from Egypt and of the constitution of Israel are true, that is, if archaic elements of the 12 Tribes which later merged were enslaved in Egypt, fled from there, wandered in the wilderness, acquired national dimensions and a culture based on the Law (Torah), under the leadership of Moses, the Pentateuch must be considered substantially truthful, from a historical standpoint. And, if the time when the events occurred is that the Bible indicates (sixteenth century b. C.), then the entire framework of the history of Middle East nations, including Egypt and Assyria, will have to be reviewed in the points of disagreement with the Pentateuch, which are not few.
To say it clearly, it is undeniably revolutionary to think that the facts narrated in the Pentateuch can be historical truths, since the majority of contemporary historians and archaeologists no longer believe it. And, provided that the external evidence about the Exodus itself is too lacunary, what casts doubt on the position of those scientists is the weakness of the points in which it disagrees with ever reiterated statements of the Pentateuch.
It must be clarified that the facts I will try to reconstitute are not a bundle of events literally described in the five “books of Moses”. Bible History is not literal but literary, as far as it was composed and preserved in the form of texts. However, the readers habit of thinking the texts convey facts exactly as they happened makes literary History literal.
Of course, the texts which transmitted the early History of Israel are in the Pentateuch, but the written sources used by the authors of these books were produced much before. I assume that these sources were the result of a continuous work of telling and retelling the facts which they preserved. But this is not the only assumption that has to be made about the Exodus and the formation of Israel. For any set of facts to form a reasonable account about a true nation of Hebrews it is necessary to assume the existence of a leader such as the biblical Moses. Without him, Pentateuch data disassemble and lack all feasibility, from the viewpoint of comparative history. In fact, without Moses it is impossible even to form a hypothesis about Pentateuch history.
The actual existence of the Jewish leader, however, is a problem connected to the insertion of his lifetime in a certain section of historical time. Of course, if someone looks for Moses in the 20th century, he will not find him. The same is true if we seek him in any other time in which, for clear reasons, he may not have existed. So, the historical Moses must first be associated with a period in which he may have reasonably existed.
Unfortunately, a doubtful consensus was formed not only about Moses’ time, but also about the events recorded in the books of Joshua and Judges. The problem can be thus simplified: in the internal chronology of the Bible, about 973 years passed between the Exodus and the Babylonian Captivity (605 a. C.). Of that period 433 years correspond to other small captivities under neighbouring nations, and periods of freedom under the judges. But historians usually recognize only 100 to 150 of the 433 years. They overlap the remaining years or consider them a mere literary invention. Of course, this understanding leads to the location of any early event about 350 years after the time in which the Bible places it. The Exodus and the formation of Israel in the wilderness are absolutely no exceptions. They tend to be drawn to the thirteenth century b. C. by the elimination of most of the Period of Judges.
One may wonder if such a mutilation of time can claim any historical ground. If we look closely at biblical and other historical data, we will find no clear reason for it. For example, by 1200 b. C., the Philistines moved from southern Europe to Asia Minor and the Middle East. Judges tells us that a branch of their invasive wave and the Ammonites oppressed the children of Israel that dwelt beyond the Jordan (Judges 10:8). By that time, Jephthah came to the king of Ammon. In the message he conveyed to that oppressor, Jephthah referred to a chronological key. He said Israel had dwelt in Transjordan for already 300 years (Judges 11:26). If we sum up the years which elapsed from the oppression of Israel by Cushan-Rishathaim (Judges 3:8), which inaugurates the Period of Judges, to the judgeship of Jair, right before the Ammonite-Philistine oppression, we will reach 301 years.
No internal or external reasons demand the disregard of these 300 years. If we cut them off, the Philistine invasion will become contemporary to the conquest of Canaan by the Israelites, which brings in some historical difficulties. There was little room, in Old Palestine, for such simultaneous invasions. Admitting them would be like conceding that two rival armies could invade and partake a poor province together. How could enemies fight for the same land, and not fight against each another? The Bible gives absolutely no hint of armed conflicts of Israel against the Philistines at so early a time. So, there is no reason to assume the purge of 300 years. And if we go 973 years back from the best dated event of Old Testament (conquest of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar), in 605 b. C., we arrive at 1,578 b. C. This is the time of the Exodus, in accordance with the internal evidence of the Bible. Of course, other chronologies could find some years more or some years less than the number I mentioned. That is not what I am fighting for here.
But contrarily to all this, archaeological and historical consensus tends to place the Exodus not in the sixteenth, but in the thirteenth century b. C. And though claiming non-biblical evidence to support it, the consensus disregards a whole body of information about the Exodus which is also parallel to the Bible. Part of this information is included in the description Josephus gives of the Exodus in his major work about Jewish Antiquities. Josephus refers to the Egyptian priest and historian Manetho, the only one who recorded the conquest of Egypt by the Hyksos and their subsequent expulsion. As Josephus clearly identifies the Israelites that left Egypt with the Hyksos, the association of his account to Manetho’s is to be regarded logical and of considerable authority.
According to Josephus, after Manetho "protested he would draw the history of Egypt from the holy books, he said that our ancestors, having gone there in large numbers, had become masters of all [exactly as the Hyksos did], but after some time they were expelled from there and settled in Judea" (JOSEPHUS, Flavius. Response to Apius. In History of the Hebrews. 5th ed., Rio de Janeiro: CPAD, 2001. Livro Primeiro, Cap. 9. p. 720).
We know the Hyksos were Semites, just like the Hebrews. And also like the sons of Jacob, they came from Palestine, which they ruled at about the same time they subdued Egypt. Archaeologist John Arthur Thompson, from Cambridge University, explains: "Palestine had a feudal organization in that period. It consisted of several small states, which paid allegiance to the king of the Hyksos" (Thompson, John Arthur. Archaeology and the Bible - when science discovers faith. 2nd ed., São Paulo: Christian Life, 2007. p. 61).
The testimony Josephus borrowed from Manetho is, therefore, the first outer evidence that the Exodus took place at the end of the Hyksos Period, in the 16th century. It cannot be displaced by archaeological data without very good explanation, which I fear is not sufficiently present in the works of modern archaeologists and historians.
But there is another extra-biblical evidence of the same fact. I refer to the absence of direct accounts of the output of the Hebrews in Egyptian annals. We know that, unlike all previous and subsequent periods, in which names and deeds of the rulers of Egypt were carefully recorded, during the rule of the Hyksos (1730-1570 a. C.), Egyptian Story plunges into deep silence. According to Werner Keller: "No nation of the Ancient East gave us its own history as faithfully as Egypt. For nearly 3,000 years, we can follow the names of pharaohs, and know the succession of dynasties of the Old, Middle and New Kingdoms almost without a flaw. No other people so accurately traced its important events [...] but the information abruptly ceases by the year 1730 b. C. Since then Egypt is involved in deep darkness. Only in 1580 b. C., testimonies resurface" (KELLER, Werner. The Bible told the truth. 3rd. ed., São Paulo: Melhoramentos, 1958. pp. 88-89).
John Thompson also wrote about the silence of the Hyksos Period: "We know that the kings of 17th Dynasty did their best to erase all traces of the Hyksos rulers. Their names were removed from monuments, and all written records were destroyed" (THOMPSON, John Arthur. Opus cit. p. 61).
The suspension or suppression of historical records of the Hyksos time allows us to understand why the tumultuous exit of the Israelites was not explicitly described in Egyptian annals. Although Egypt maintained the most complete record we are aware of, in remote antiquity, the period it remained under the rule of the Hyksos is marked by a large data gap because those data were destroyed.
There is no similar gap, in the period of the 19th Dynasty. Even less in the reign of Ramses II, in which the Exodus is usually placed by historians. In the book Egypt in the time of Ramses, Pierre Montet summarizes what is known about the golden age of the second Ramses: "No portion of Egypt’s vast empire was neglected by Ramses I and his successors [includind Ramses II]. From Nubia to Pi-Ramses and Pitum, how many cities were founded, how many buildings were extended, restored and even erected! They provide abundant documentation about that period, which is completed by numerous papyri dating from the XII and XIII centuries, as well as novels, controversies, collections of letters, lists of works and workers, contracts, minutes" (Montet, Pierre. Egypt in the time of Ramses - 1300 a. C. to 1100 a. C. São Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 1990. pp. 15-16).
In contrast to the lack of information about the Hyksos Period, we have plenty of documents on the reign of Ramses. Montet tells us why: "Pharaoh is the son of a god. He did nothing without the permission of that god, and often with his help. So, remembering the heroic deeds of his reign was honoring the gods" (Opus cit. p. 13). It was a duty of all Pharaohs to honor the gods. That was done by preserving narratives of their deeds as kings. Therefore, nothing that Ramses did in his days was omitted in the documents mentioned by Montet. So we may ask why the utilization of Hebrew work to build cities, temples and other buildings does not appear in them. Why Pharaoh’s interviews with Moses and Aaron were not recorded in those documents? And the output of the Israelites? And their persecution by the Egyptian army? Why the Egyptian version of such events was not recorded in the vast collection of documents available? It is clear that the information gap can be justified for the Hyksos Period, but not for Ramses’.
Josephus said the Israelites and the Hyksos were not only relatives, but distinct contingents of the same people. He based this theory on the Egyptian historian Manetho, who is the sole ancient source of information about the expulsion of the Hyksos. It is true that inaccuracies can be pointed in Josephus’ theory, but they do not remove all its historical worth. Josephus is based on the fact that, in ancient times, kinship and common origin from Canaan made Hebrews and Hyksos one people, for all practical purposes, and his statement does not make little sense.
However, the group that took the power, in the Nile Delta, was that of the Hyksos, not the Israelites. Under such conditions, it is not unlikely that the Hyksos even oppressed the descendants of Jacob, forcing them to build up cities and do other heavy works. Josephus describes such works as digging "several dikes to stop the waters of the Nile and channels to get them. They made our ancestors work on building walls to surround cities, on raising pyramids of prodigious height and forced them to learn difficult arts and crafts” (JOSEPHUS, Flavius. Opus cit. art. 85, p. 79).
It is true one can also oppose arguments to the identification of the Israelites with the Hyksos, such as Pharaoh's statement that "the people of the children of Israel are more numerous and mightier than we" (Ex. 1:9). In this verse, the king of Egypt mentions the Israelites as different from his own people. However, as explained, Josephus hypothesis does not imply a total identification of the two groups. Hyksos and Israelites were distinct waves of immigrants from one people. The conquest of political power by the group that arrived later also differentiated them. Pharaoh referred to these distinctions, in order to justify the oppression of the Hebrews.
When properly interpreted, Exodus 1:19 favors the theory which locates the Exodus at the end of the Hyksos Period, since the Israelites, as foreigners, could hardly be more numerous than the Egyptians, which had been in their country for millennia, but could surpass the Hyksos in number. Having got into Egypt before the Hyksos, the Israelites could indeed be more numerous than they, what explains the fear of the king of Egypt that the sons of Israel would become stronger than they.
Another argument that can be mentioned against the theory of Josephus is that, when the Israelites left Egypt, they did not go through the "land of the Philistines". The exact words of Exodus are: "When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by the way of the land of the Philistines, although that was near; for God said, Perhaps the people will change their minds when they see war and will return to Egypt" (Exodus 13:17).
We know that the Philistines settled in the coastal region of Palestine only by 1200 or shortly thereafter. Thus, the reference to "the land of the Philistines", in Exodus 13:17, is an anachronism typical of ancient literature. The author’s intention was to assert that the Israelites passed through the land which was latter possessed by the Philistines.
The war mentioned in the verse did not involve the Philistines, because they were not there yet. In fact, the word war, in that verse, means military movements on the Mediterranean coast. The Jerusalem Bible explains: "This was the normal path, parallel to the coast, passing by Sile (El-Kantara current), dotted with wells and patrolled. The group that fled certainly did not take it" (Jerusalem Bible. 5th printing, São Paulo: Paulus, 2008. Exodus 13:17, footnote 3. p. 120). The ambiance of the Exodus in the sixteenth century demands that the policing mentioned in the footnote was exercised by the Hyksos, who ruled the place at that time.
But the strongest argument in favor of the location of the Exodus at the end of the Hyksos Period, is the fact that the Group of Moses, who came out of Egypt, is generally described as small, because it had serious difficulties to overcome Amalek (Exodus 17). Nevertheless, the censuses of the Book of Numbers indicate nearly 600,000 Israelis apt for war, shortly after. The best explanation for the transition from a small group to a huge nation is the proximity between the Exodus and the expulsion of the Hyksos. The Israelites and the Hyksos went out of Egypt almost simultaneously. So, the two contingents may have gradually gathered in the desert and formed one nation.
None of these data clashes with the treatment Josephus develops of the two peoples. It also explains why, although the Group of Moses was militarily weak, Israel became a powerful nation after the merger with the Hyksos warriors.
Thus, we see the problem of the Exodus time cannot be solved by simply refusing the Bible’s inner evidence in favor of outer evidence provided by archaeological findings. We will deal with these findings in another article. However, if we are to rely on outer proofs, we should look not only to excavations, but also to historical records written as close as possible to the events. In short, we should take all outer proofs, not only some. And the whole picture of both inner and outer proofs shows us that the Exodus is more likely to have taken place in the 16th than in the 13th century. This means that the scientific location of the Exodus, to say the least, is shadowed by big clouds of doubt.