The Biblical Traditions as Responses to Crises?

There’s a peculiar reality about biblical history writing. I say peculiar not because it’s weird or odd. It’s quite predictable when you think about the dynamics of history writing. But I say peculiar in the sense of a distinctive characteristic.

Biblical history writing is self-serving.

This is particularly clear when one considers how significantly important, large-scale, geo-political events of the Iron Age are discussed. Consider the Syro-Ephramite War. There’s reference in different locations in the Old Testament to this complex conflict that involved many polities in the Levant, each of whom had competing aims and goals, and that altered the geo-political contours of the region. Yet if you didn’t know the players and what was at stake, namely the ambitions of Tiglath Pileser III in shaping the Levant and the responses to those imperial ambitions, you may only think that it was a context for a rather significant institutional face-off within the Judean social structure (Isaiah) or the context wherein Ahaz decided to take a business trip to Damascus to strike a deal with Assyria and came back with a new idea for the temple’s decoration (Kings). Similarly, the Battle of Charchemish and the collapse of the Assyrian empire makes an appearance, but largely as the general context of Josiah’s untimely death—certainly not as Assyria’s last gasp effort and the crucible in which Nebuchadnezzar II solidified his reputation.

On the other hand, there are some massively important events that are not even mentioned in the Old Testament. The quintessential example of this was the Battle of Qarqar. In the middle of the ninth century, Shalmaneser III needed to flex his muscles a bit, but standing in his way was a Syro-Palestinian coalition, one of whose members was the formidable Ahab, son of Omri. Shalmaneser’s annals bear testimony to Ahab’s prowess and resources, thereby forcing students of the Bible to wrestle with a capable monarch who is villainized—perhaps more than any other—in the biblical text. For an event that was so important to understanding what was going on in the region, there's a part of me that remains baffled that this is not even hinted at in the Old Testament. Consequently, we are forced to admit that historical events are discussed only when they have a direct bearing upon something of significance within the community, no matter how important we believe them to be.

With this in place, we can talk about the collapse of the Late Bronze Age. From a pure historical perspective, this turn of events has occupied the focus of scholars for quite some time. In fact, Eric Cline describes it in various contexts (books, lectures, etc.) as something on par with the collapse of the Holy Roman Empire. If this is anywhere close to the truth, then we are talking about an event that produced not a ripple effect, but a tsunami that forever altered the shores of history. So, when it comes to the Late Bronze Age collapse, one of antiquity’s most significant geo-political events, does the Old Testament reference it? Does it ignore it? Or does it do what it’s always done and reference it in a self-serving way? True to form, the Old Testament kinda references the Late Bronze Age collapse.

Pound for pound, the best discussion of the Late Bronze Age collapse is Eric Cline’s 1177 B. C. It’s not only well informed, but it’s also accessible (it's a really good read). Moreover, he discusses the phenomenon in terms of “systems collapse,” or the systematic, often abrupt, decline of complex systems. For the Late Bronze Age collapse, Cline discusses general violence, economic collapse, invasions and/or migrations, natural disasters, and the eradication of people, arguing for a “perfect storm” that resulted in the implosion of the socio-political and economic system that governed the Mediterranean basin and Mesopotamia for centuries. These descriptions are important because one can see similar phenomena in the Old Testament, albeit on a more focused scale. In particular, the Old Testament discusses violence, invasions/migrations, and the eradication of people groups in Joshua and Judges. Indeed, there’s no clear reference to economic collapse or natural disasters, but I would argue that the picture created through the testimonies of Joshua and Judges generally aligns with the realities of the Late Bronze Age collapse. Yet what’s most telling is that the picture of Israelite society at the end of Judges—the social breakdown to the point that the community appears to be incapable of functioning—echoes, but also almost caricaturizes, the severe retraction and/or collapse of societies across the Mediterranean Basin and the Fertile Crescent. In short, while Joshua and Judges allude to the Late Bronze Age collapse, the ending of Judges can be understood as an Israelite application of this reality.

So, I want to quickly explore the question, “To what extent are the biblical traditions a response to crises or a protection against the next crisis?” Admittedly, we could probably skin this cat in several different ways. But I want to return to Cline and his discussion on social resiliency. In After 1177 B. C., he defines resilience as the “ability to continue to operate under stress, adapt to adversity, and recover functionality after a crisis.” If we accept this, then we can rephrase our focus question to, “How do the biblical traditions speak to Israel’s ability to operate, adapt, and rediscover functionality in the wake of the Late Bronze Age collapse?”

To answer in a singular, tweetable statement, it would be as follows: the biblical traditions suggest that Israel’s resilience after the Late Bronze Age collapse was contingent upon the collaboration of multiple social institutions informed by the covenantal ideal.

Consider this. While the end of Judges (chs. 17-21) describes Israel amid a collapse, a hint of the monarchy’s importance is given (cf. “There was no king in Israel; everyone did as thy saw fit.”). With this statement, it seems that the end of Judges is making a less than explicit statement that the monarchy would have offered some degree of social stability that would have militated against the chaos being described. Yet, the biblical tradition in the chapters that follow also accepts the polarizing nature of that institution when it introduces the monarchy. In 1 Sam 8, the monarchy is inaugurated in the context of a communal intervention that is controversial and less than straightforward. Moreover, the tradition of Samuel will also maintain, just a few chapters later (1 Sam 12), that the vitality of the royal institution hinges upon said institution’s ability to keep the covenantal ideal. For this to happen, the book of Samuel will bear witness to the fact that there must be collaboration between a king who exudes the proper characteristics and the prophetic institution when it feels obliged to call the monarchy to account.

The book of Kings continues this dynamic, but it broadens its focus past the immediate confines of Israel and Judah. Indeed, collaboration among the monarchy, prophets, and even the priesthood informed by the covenantal ideal is on display throughout, but the stakes are increased. Socio-political opportunities for God’s people are exploited, but the United Kingdom ultimately divides, fractured under the weight of bad political policies and the increasing pressures of the Libyan Pharoah, Shishak (Sheshonq I). Most importantly, Kings testifies that Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, and other polities asserted themselves onto both Israel and Judah. In other words, the book of Kings shows us that the resilience of other polities affected, in various degrees, the continued resilience of God’s people. The result was a mutually influential web of interactions that forced God’s people to come to grips with and perpetuate an identity on the way to achieving their objectives and general longevity.

I also would argue that this is where the classical prophets offer an important testimony. Their oracles, and the traditions that surround them, offer a window into the fight for resiliency. The prophets continually exhorted God’s people, the kings and the priests, to hold fast to the covenantal ideal as an ideological anchor point, explaining their experiences and encouraging them in the decisions that they will make. To put it bluntly, the prophets repeatedly emphasize that the covenantal ideal should be the community’s source of resiliency. And in this way, we can also see reforms and other cultic celebrations as reconnections to the source of the community’s resiliency.

So, in sum, I’m asking about understanding the biblical traditions as mechanisms, perhaps facilitating agents, for resilience. They have arisen out of a series of experiences that have brought God’s people along the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. But at each turn, there stands the revealed teaching of God Almighty, crystalized in the covenantal ideal, exhorting his people that the embodiment of this truth is the key to their longevity, vitality, and even anti-fragility. And that’s where I think that this is all going. The biblical traditions, with all its history, exhortation, and praise, is showing God’s people how to thrive in a world devastated by the chaotic effects of sin.