Shame and the Mixed Blessing (Part 3)

With part 3 of this series, Evan Knappenberger’s and my discussion on shame and the mixed blessing, as presented in Ezekiel 36, concludes. In this essay, Evan traces the evolution over time of shame’s appearance within the Hebrews’ culture, thus providing a scholarly context for the stark dichotomy between the rationales behind shame, either worldly or heavenly, that were identified in part 2. Following Evan’s essay, I briefly respond to his contribution and bring this series to a conclusion.

Evan wrote:

Now I am fully submerged in this interpretive question of Ezekiel 36, a state of intellectual engagement with the text which is the natural end result of serious reflection upon the spirit of the text. Too long and too detailed for meeting for worship, our commitment to this iterative message between sister Patricia and I nevertheless requires more of us. It is becoming easy for me to see how some Orthodox Jews believe it is necessary to devote all their time and energy to studying and interpreting the scriptures. Without writing a whole treatise on the issue, however, I will try to once more to forge an association or two between our contemporary Quaker practice and the inspired words of one who, long ago, was given a message to proclaim to the empty wastelands of Judea (Eze. 36:1-6).

Central to our discussion is a distinction between shame and sin. A brief perusal of scholarly literature on the topic of shame in the Old Testament is enough to convince me of its centrality to the exilic context. Several perspectives emerge in the scholarly work, not least of which is the Honor-Shame paradigm, an almost universal thinking which shapes the ancient semitic understanding in a unique way. In this system, shame has many roles and serves sociality as a mechanism of control; it is contrasted with honor, both of which enable a certain attributional thinking among human beings. Honor and shame form a dyad whereby either is susceptible to idolatry, both in ancient and in the modern contexts — witness “honor killings” of disobedient daughters in some cultures. This interpretation of shame is helpful to contextualizing our passage in Ezekiel, as well as many other places in the Old Testament, especially in the Psalms. However, despite the fact that there are more than three dozen Hebraic words centering shame, it is something distinct (if not altogether different from) the concept of Sin. More importantly, Ezekiel clearly complicates post-exilic ideas of shame and sin — in chapter 36 alone, there are about three different approaches to the same idea.

Again, this is not the place to derive a study of the differences between Sin and Shame, though one of the best sources on this I have seen is purely historical (not theological.) Kyle Harper’s From Sin to Shame, (2013), details the fascinating cultural shift in the Roman world wrought by Pauline Christianity. According to Harper, early Christian notions of sinfulness were almost totally focused on sexual sin, and operated in a way that tended to appropriate and contrast pagan sexual ethics with the Christian concern for mutuality, respect, and love-of-neighbor-as-self. The notional development of Christian sexual ethics of course parallel not just Judaic notions of shame and sin, but worldly forces of honor and shame as well. As Quakers we are doubly aware of notional shame, which is written into the very appellation “Quaker.”

As a historian I am trained to seek the “forces of endogenous historical transformation” — those seeds of change which are planted in the psychic soil of any given place and time, which grow and bear fruit and often transform society in unexpected ways. It is easy in our case to see an axial transformation of shame in several stages: a primitive semitic honor-shame evolves with the Hebraic cultus into notional Sin, something more attributional which can only be cleansed by blood sacrifice; this further evolves in the post-exilic period into a systematized transactional atonement whereby Mount Zion is covered in a never-ending gore of blood that is alien to the prophetic conscience. (Here we are tempted to enter into the great contemporary debate on atonement on the side of James Alison and Ted Grimsrud, who emphasize the prophetic denial of sacrificial atonement which plays out in both Old and New Testaments.) Finally, the “seeds of endogenous transformation” come to fruition in a transcendence of sacrifice through the transformational death of Jesus on the Cross, his deconstructive wearing of our shame or “bearing of our sin” — and lastly in the late-Pauline doctrinal apologetics of the Epistle to the Hebrews.

In the first iteration, the Hebrew peoples formalize semitic shame, which crystallizes into Sin. The prophetic awareness maintains a minor interpretation of both shame and sin which foretells their negation through the transformative act of the Lord. (Witness, that in the Genesis 2 account of the Fall of Humanity, there is no mention of Sin, original or otherwise; only of the shame of nakedness.) While in exile, new generations of Israelites begin to understand shame and sin in a complex series of ritualized ethnic and social constructions which cannot resist oversimplification. The prophets, including Ezekiel, maintain their minor theology, even through the exile. By the time of the second temple and of Jesus of Nazareth, the ascendency of transactional shame and attributional Sin is complete. Jesus comes to a humanity almost entirely entrenched in its understanding of Sin, its reliance on the Letter of the Law which is death, and its ritualized reliance on death and shame upon which it builds a world order.

All of this is context for our interpretation of Ezekiel 36, with its insistent mixed blessing (which I lately realize is foreshadowed by Jacob’s lower back trouble marking him as blessed.) And it all points to Jesus’ embracing/deconstruction of shame and sin by which the foolishness of the wise is laid bare. It shows us a way to maintain our own minor interpretative theological awarenesses in the face of Anselmian sacrifice-Atonement and other like imperial constructions. Finally, it is for us Conservative Friends to uphold a prophetic ministry which opposes both worldly shamefulness and churchly Sin. May we continue to read scriptures like this deeply and enrich ourselves in them and the Lord.

Evan

Patricia wrote:

Thanks, Evan, for providing a scholarly outline of the evolving demeanor of “shame” among the Israelites. Chapter 36 in Ezekiel puts the dichotomous opposition of sin and faith before us when the prophet replaces the false cause of shame—heathenish reproach—with the true, sole cause of shame: alienation from God, i.e. sin. The chapter becomes relevant to present-day readers when we realize that the “heathenish reproach” can stand for all the worldly catalysts of shame, including religious institutions, ordinances, mores, and values. It is important to identify and know “the one thing needful” that keeps us from sin, for should Christ be known and heeded, all false measures that would induce shame go by the wayside.

Let’s conclude this discussion on Ezekiel 36 and look forward to future examinations of our faith through the wonderful resources offered within our Quaker tradition.

The Prophet Ezekiel Writing, 1465, Medieval manuscript in National Library Netherlands

Shame and the Mixed Blessing (Part 2)

The following is my response to Evan Knappenberger’s writing, which can be found in part 1, posted yesterday on this blog. Our discussion pertained to chapter 36 in the book of Ezekiel in which two verses, 30 and 31, tie together God’s blessing of increased harvest and riddance of the heathens’ reproach with the Israelites coming awareness of shame. Our discussion is an attempt to understand this mixed blessing within the context of the forward movement of humanity towards salvation. We find affirmation in our Quaker tradition that being “led by the Holy Ghost into the truth and substance of the Scriptures” requires our “duly applying them to [our] own state[s]” (Nickalls, 31-32).

Patricia writes:

Thank you, Evan, for revisiting your ministry and going into your thoughts around “mixed blessing.” On First Day, I felt the importance of your words but wasn’t clear to respond. There are several ideas that I’m still struggling with and the act of writing will, I hope, allow me to clarify. 

First, I’ll say that I agree with the idea that there’s a “mixed blessing” that is comprised of God’s plenitude and the self-awareness of shame. Shame is a topic that figures crucially into humanity’s restoration, and thus it shows up in the story of the garden with Adam hiding himself because he was naked  (Gen. 3:10) and concludes with the “finisher of our faith ” who despised the shame of the cross (Heb. 12:2). 

The passage in Ezekiel documents God’s correcting the people’s error that shame stems from the reproach of others (the “heathen” [KJV]) to a corrected understanding: that shame is the direct result of a broken relationship with God and the inevitable hiding from that truth [Gen. 3: 8–10] and that shame accompanies failed autonomy. The Ezekiel passage returns the source of shame from the social arena (which is worldly) to its true location where it is found in honest introspection, an inward facing of the truth of oneself. Verses 30 and 31 show the changeover from one to the other (italics mine):

And I will multiply the fruit of the tree, and the increase of the field, that ye shall receive no more reproach of famine among the heathen. Then shall ye remember your own evil ways, and your doings that were not good, and shall lothe yourselves in your own sight for your iniquities and for your abominations” (Eze. 36:30-31).

Shame arrived at through introspection—rather than outward reproach from the heathen—is a step forward in self-awareness, but the communal/tribal focus of this teaching that occurs in this chapter is not the end goal, and I think that the arguments God uses (I provide you with what you want [29-30]; I’m doing this to reveal my holiness [22]; and I will change you inwardly for the better [26]) conflates worldly goods with spiritual goods. As a result, the Israelites can learn to associate the unknown spiritual goods as being beneficial, as are the known worldly goods. The prophet’s teaching must raise humanity’s awareness until we are prepared individually to be restored to God: this further refinement in understanding—from communal to individual–must occur but doesn’t show up in this Ezekiel passage or largely in the Old Testament, while it instead features abundantly in the New Testament. Penington clearly states that the relationship that is now to be is not based in on the tribe/community but is personal, to be between God and the individual:

What is the New Covenant? It is a new agreement between God and the soul, different from the former agreement, which was between God and that people of the Jews (Works, 4:19).

In the Ezekiel chapter, God is teaching the people that His abundance and acknowledgement of shame go together, are inseparable. The abundance precedes shame in this passage; at a future time, however, the acknowledged shame will precede Grace, which is not available until we, individually, worship the truth by opening up to it, and that will entail shame.  I think you’re in agreement with me about the primacy of the individual conscience, as you wrote the following words: 

The human conscience is responsive to God’s call and is as varied in content as God’s voice to each person. The real shame is not in how we acquired our wealth, our land or whatever, but in how . . . we have put various idols—church, politics, belief —in place of the immediate conscientiousness demanded of us.

I’d say that this passage is about some rudimentary teaching that God is doing through Ezekiel, so the people learn that the inward state must be recognized and acknowledged. Outward goods, though important, are not the sum total of man’s concern. The required introspection exercises and strengthens the power of spiritual discernment, which will be necessary to see the light that shines in the darkness and enlightens every one that comes into the world.

Shame and the Mixed Blessing (Part 1)

As is often the case in worship at Seekers’ Haven, Evan Knappenberger’s ministry last week (12/22/24) was insightful and evocative. Frequently the half hour following worship allows for discussion that centers on the ministry that’s occurred, but this day Evan had brought forward a Bible passage that was less familiar and contained complex ideas that we did not feel ready to discuss, though I had a very strong sense that the topic was important and needed to be understood. Within the next couple of days, I had emailed Evan and asked him “to identify the passage in Ezekiel [that the ministry had rested upon] and paraphrase [his] ministry and the thoughts on the topic that [he’d] had since.” Within another couple of days, Evan had sent me the information and his thoughts on chapter 36 of Ezekiel, and so began our email discussion.

At Evan’s suggestion, I intend to post the significant parts of this discussion here at Abiding Quaker. I expect to do so over a few days, as both his and my emails are too lengthy to be included in one post alone. From Evan Knappenberger comes Part 1 of this short series titled “Shame and the Mixed Blessing.”

Evan wrote:

As I was sitting in meeting this last first day, the verse came to me which is from Ezekiel Ch. 36, viz v. 26, “I will give you a new heart and a new mind. I will take away your stubborn heart of stone and give you an obedient heart” (GNT) or, if you prefer, King James Version: “A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh.”

As it has been some years since I read that passage, I was led to open a Bible and find it. As is my usual practice of opening the scriptures during meeting, I was led to look for context and for the spirit to reveal itself in the text just a little bit. Re-reading the entire 36th Chapter of Ezekiel was instructive.

Clearly God is telling the prophet that he plans to bless the exilic people of Israel, to bring them back together in their own land, and to multiply them and their flocks, to reinstate them as nation in a holy tradition. It would have been easy enough for the prophets of the exile to foretell this happy and most welcome reversal of their misfortune; for who does not readily cheer such good news that confirms us in all our patriotic and ethnocentric splendor? Many a post-nationalistic modern Friend might glance at Ezekiel (or Nehemiah or Ezra, for that matter) [and] might thus be put off by this seeming promise of fundamentalist resurgence: the sureness of political and tribal domination over the “heathen” (vv. 3, 5), for example, which the prophet delivers excitedly with repetitions of “Thus saith the Lord!” Has Thee heard? We are to be shamed no more but will prosper against all our neighbors!

And here precisely is where Ezekiel cuts short the celebratory self-congratulation. “I am not,” saith the Lord God of Israel, “doing this for your sake!” What’s that? How can this be? It is not our intrinsic virtue, our ethnic heritage, our cultural superiority, our pure cultus, our direct back line to David, our insistence on the Mosaic Law which has promised to deliver us. What then, how did we earn our salvation? By what virtue have we enticed Yahweh to heed our pleas? By none! “But for my name’s sake, which you have profaned among the heathen!” (v. 22)

Yahweh’s blessing upon those exiled Israelites is not contingent upon their own goodness, works, or purity. In fact, God is telling them plainly, you have failed even in exile—you have profaned my name; you have made me another idol among many; you have polluted the world with more filth (v. 25) rather than fulfilling your purpose of being a blessing to all the nations of the earth (recall God’s promise to Abraham). The Lord is going to do all these good things to you in spite of your failure and not for the sake of your pleasure, power, or plenitude, but in verses 26 and 27, the promise is much deeper: I will cleanse you from all this and give you new hearts of flesh.

Typically, Quakers might understand tenderheartedness and “hearts of flesh” in terms of conscientiousness, responsiveness to the tender mercies and leadings of the Lord who saved Jacob and Joseph and Abraham, who we also understand to be even He who saved George Fox and Margaret Fell and Friends of His down through the current day. This verse is the golden capstone of the pinnacle of God’s promise of restoration, by which we can understand the entire purpose of Yahweh’s setting apart of the people of Jacob: namely, to establish a politics of godliness and mercy and conscience on Earth as it is in Heaven. There is indeed much to wonder at in this passage.

But the chapter, the prophecy, [and] the story do not end there. Ezekiel reiterates God’s promises of plenitude and blessing to Israel. And then [there’s] something incredible. In verses 31 and 32, we hear: 

Then shall ye remember your own evil ways, and your doings that were not good, and shall lothe yourselves in your own sight for your iniquities and for your abominations. Not for your sakes do I this, saith the Lord GOD, be it known unto you: be ashamed and confounded for your own ways, O house of Israel.

What is this? Shame? What kind of blessing includes shame? Old Testament notions of blessing have never included this in their notional purview before: when Jacob steals the paternal blessing, for example, there is no explicit shame laid on him and his descendants for it. There has to this point in the Hebrew Bible been no such thing as a “mixed blessing.” 

In effect, [with] the inclusion in the text of these two verses, the introduction of a complication to the notion of blessing itself within the narrative of the fulfillment of the primal Blessing, we are forced to reckon [that along] with the psychological reality of plenitude and restoration [comes] a hard and unrelenting feeling of Shame. Not just shame, but confoundedness and even loathing!

This warning of shame is to be the result of God’s blessing, not directly but as a byproduct of the plenitude of God’s goodness. It is there, surely, in the filthy abomination of idolatry in which the exiles have been struggling but has heretofore been unacknowledged among them by reason of their stoneheartedness. 

When I was a soldier in the war in Iraq, we did some shameful things and justified them out of necessity: Yes, we killed those civilians, but we had to. Yes, we entrapped those people to their deaths, but it was necessary if not good. Yes, we mistreated detainees, and so on. It was only later, when we returned to the land of plenty, and went out to spend our pay on various vices that we began to comprehend the darkness of our own actions, and then only with encouragement and in the absence of other means of immoral coping.

We in America have been the recipients of much plenitude. Do we connect it with the shame of its origins? I don’t mean land acknowledgments, which have become rather formulaic recently, or even really any form of activism. There is no set form of tenderheartedness. The human conscience is responsive to God’s call and is as varied in content as God’s voice to each person. The real shame is not in how we acquired our wealth, our land, or whatever, but in how we have failed to perform God’s mission in the world; how we have failed to bring about the Kingdom of Conscience on Earth; how we have put various idols—church, politics, belief—in place of the immediate conscientiousness demanded of us. 

I have no answers here, and I did not deliver all this long of a message in meeting. But for the sake of the Friends, sister Patricia Dallmann has asked me to elaborate, and this is for all Friends. Yes, there will be moments of inevitable shame and confoundedness, and that is okay. To be expected. But that is not the end of the story, and though we are given many good things and though we are washed clean by the Spirit again and again, we must wrestle with Yahweh for a mixed blessing.

E.K. Knappenberger

Ezekiel in the Valley of the Dry Bones, 1956, Benno Elkan (1877–1960)

A Hero Made from God and Man

Now come, Saviour of the heathen / Renowned child of the Virgin;

Let all the world be amazed / That God ordained him such a birth.

Not from man’s blood nor flesh / But only from the Holy Ghost.

Has God’s Word become human and blood / A fruit of woman’s flesh.

The virgin body became pregnant / Yet her chastity remained pure.

Such virtue shines forth here / Where God is enthroned.

He went forth from his chamber / That kingly hall so pure

A hero made from God and man / He hastens to walk his path.

These words are from a Christmas carol titled “Now Come, Saviour of the Heathen” written by Kaspar Othmayr (1515–1553). The lyrics were copied from the liner notes on a CD titled Ther is no Rose (London, England: Virgin Classics Limited, 1997).

Over half a millenium ago, our humankind was making music to accompany sound theology, and today, thankfully, we can hear their language and add not only our affirmation but our own voice and substance to the great work that has been ever before us. We, too, must “hasten[s] to walk his path.”

Madonna and Child Gerard David c. 1460–1523