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Naaman, Dirt, and Territorial
Gods
The Canonical Function of 2 Kings 5:17-19
Dennis Bratcher
Some exegetes have raised questions about the "orthodoxy" of Elisha's
actions in response to Naaman the Syrian's professed conversion to the
worship of Israel's God. For some, there seems to be a polytheistic
dimension to the Naaman story when he requests permission to take home to
Syria two donkey-loads of dirt from Israel in order to worship the God who
had healed him (2 Kings 5:1-19). Some historians and scholars who trace
the development of biblical traditions (tradition critics) have suggested
that this detail reflects an older pagan idea of territorial deities, that
the gods only governed certain geographical regions. Thus Chemosh, the god
of the Moabites was only god in Moab, and Yahweh, the God of the
Israelites was only God in Israel. Naaman's request seems to make a
remarkable concession to this notion of territorial deities. Some have
noted that Elisha's blessing of Naaman ("Go in peace") even seems to give
approval to the idea.
This view would understand that Naaman considered Yahweh, the God of
the Israelites, to be the god of that specific land. He could not worship
Yahweh in his land of Aram unless he had a piece of Yahweh 's land on
which to worship. Whether he stood on it or fashioned it into an altar,
the dirt had to come from Yahweh 's land to make his worship acceptable.
Biblical traditions indeed show that the Israelites struggled with this
very problem during the exile. They had difficulty accepting the idea that
they could worship Yahweh anywhere, even in an "unclean" land. The passage
in Deuteronomy 32:8-9 (as one among many) lends support to the acceptance
of the territorial aspect of Yahweh and the gods of the nations.
In spite of the stretch of logic and perversion of theology required,
other moderns have even picked up this idea as evidence for the idea of
"territorial spirits," demons that control or influence human beings in
certain geographical locations. This has even been extended to using this
passage to argue that certain locations are so under the control of these
territorial demons that they are "cursed" and unsafe for Christians.
The Historical Background
First, there does seem to be little question that Israel along with
other ancient Near Eastern peoples began with the idea of localized
deities, or with the idea that certain gods inhabited certain places or
things (a form of animism). At the very least, the texts seem to imply
that Israel greatly valued certain physical places that they considered
holy. This seems evident in many details of various texts, for example,
Moses and the "holy ground" of Horeb. The idea of building altars "in
every place where I cause my name to be remembered," interestingly enough
in the context of building an altar of dirt (Ex 20:24), might well be an
earlier concession to the idea of localized deities even though this was
later forbidden in the post-exilic Deuteronomic community (Deut 12).
The very fact of the existence of early tribal shrines at Bethel,
Shiloh, Gilgal, and Shechem that were most likely earlier Ba’al shrines
seems to reflect this as well. There are references to various sacred
trees (Gen 12:6) or rocks (Gen 28:18). Giving these sacred spots a
Yahwistic etiology, as in the case of Jacob’s vision at Bethel or the
revelation to Abraham at the Oak of Moreh, seems an attempt to "sanctify"
what were originally pagan sites, perhaps even predating Ba’al worship.
That observation is not a condemnation of the Israelites for doing so,
only to point out that the idea of holy places carried into Israelite
thinking even as it was adapted to Yahwism.
The practice of marking the sites of significant events with rocks or
altars may also carry vestiges of the idea of localized deities who were
in control of specific areas, although these are always converted in the
Deuteronomic History to Yahweh events with the didactic purpose of
remembering. And of course, there are even more significant examples that
drift into the political arena, as in the case of Ahaz building the altar
to Asshur in Jerusalem as a sign of allegiance to Assyria, a symbol of
Asshur taking control of Yahweh’s domain. This connection between
territorial control and deity made Hezekiah’s religious reforms an act of
political rebellion.
Israel did struggle during the exile to come to terms with the idea
that Yahweh could be worshipped outside his land. Ezekiel even turns this
into a lovely priestly metaphor in describing the departure of the "glory"
of Yahweh from the land because it had been so polluted by sin as to
become unclean and uninhabitable for Yahweh.
There is even some sophisticated theological reflection in Deuteronomy
32 that seems to refer to national or ethnic deities. However, I am not so
sure this is actually a vestige of the idea of localized deities remaining
in the text as much as it is a deliberately archaizing metaphorical
construction using the imagery of Yahweh as the high God presiding over a
heavenly council of the gods (thus the use of "Elyon" for Yahweh). I think
the significance in that text is not just that Israel thought each nation
had its own gods, but that nascent Judaism was trying to come to terms
with how they should live in a diverse world as God’s people.
This picks up much the same theme as Amos 9 and Jonah 3 in portraying
God as the God of all peoples. The "sons of God" (LXX, Q), the deities of
the other nations, are all part of God’s reign as King over all the earth.
This is not an admission of polytheism; in fact, it is precisely the
opposite. It is an affirmation that there is only God, no matter who the
other nations claim to worship. Again, this is not universalism, because
in Deuteronomy as well as much of the post-exilic literature the emphasis
falls not only on Israel’s faithfulness to Yahweh, but also on her witness
to the world (as in Isaiah 58) of the "name" of Yahweh.
Contextual Perspectives
While the taking of two loads of dirt in order to worship God in Syria
may sound like nearly a magical notion, in spite of what the tradition
historians say I am not at all convinced that this passage in 2 Kings 5
reflects vestiges of territorial deities as it stands in the text.
If we allow the priority of pre-literary stages of the text as identified
by those who trace the history of the development of biblical traditions
to dominate how we read the text, then we have to deal with the text as
possibly reflecting vestiges of localized gods. That is certainly a form
of polytheism. In this case, Naaman would have simply been adding the
worship of Yahweh, the territorial deity of Israel, to the worship of the
gods who lived back home in Syria. However, if we do not place such a
priority on the pre-canonical form of the tradition and read it in its
immediate context, as well as the context of the larger structure of
Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic History, this detail does not seem at all
to point in this direction.
We know from other places that altars could be constructed from either
unhewn stone or from earth, so there would be nothing especially unusual
about using the dirt itself. And there is no hint within the present story
of any magical inference associated with the dirt, a fact that I think a
canonical reading of the text must take seriously. In the context of
the present story, this is simply presented as an act of authentic
piety by a Syrian (!) toward Israel’s God whom he has just encountered in
a significant way. Naaman is not condemned for his action, which would
seem important for the Deuteronomist to do if this were an element in the
story that posed any threat to Israel’s understanding of Yahweh. Rather,
in the immediate context of the wars with Aram, this becomes an
extraordinary commentary on the graciousness of Yahweh toward other people
beyond the borders of Israel. In fact, the following chapter portrays
Elisha dealing kindly with Arameans, which led to a period of relative
peace between Aram and Israel.
There are other intersecting themes in this story that serve to present
rather sophisticated theological reflection in the form of carefully
crafted narrative. For example, there is the simple comment in 5:1 that
through Naaman God had given victory to the Arameans, which is contrasted
with the later blinding and defeat of the Aramean army when it confronts
Israel. And there is the contrast of Gehazi, the greedy and deceitful
servant of Elisha, with the pious and sincere foreigner Naaman. And, as
Luke notes so well in Jesus’ response to the misguided expectations of the
homefolk crowd at Nazareth, the traditions give prominent place to Elisha
and God at work among people outside Israel. These are markers that point
to the heart of the narrative that also subsume some of the (pre-literary
and historical) details within the larger theological purpose.
The main point here is that we allow Scripture to speak (or, depending
on how postmodern one wants to be, that we listen to the text) as it
stands, and not become overly preoccupied with pre-literary historical
background that is not a significant feature of the text within a larger
context. There are certainly places where historical and cultural
background are crucial to hearing the text, as in Genesis 1-2. However,
there it is not so much the use of pre-literary historical aspects of the
text as it is acknowledging features of the text that compel us to read it
against that historical and cultural background (the symbolism of water,
the ruach from God, etc.). There are no such compelling features in
this particular text, and the immediate context of the narrative, as well
as the larger context of the Deuteronomic History, leads us in a different
direction.
So, while some pre-literary stage of the text, or the historical
background of Israel, may admit localized deities, the way this particular
text about Naaman functions in the Deuteronomic History does not really
address any of that. In context, it is simply an outworking of the theme
in the Elisha narratives framed by the Deuteronomic History of Yahweh as
the God of all people, exemplified by the pious yet culturally conditioned
response of Naaman the Aramean to Yahweh’s gracious act through Elisha. I
think to introduce the idea of localized deities in Namaan’s actions,
while an interesting historical tidbit, does not contribute to hearing the
story, and in fact may obscure seeing how the story functions within the
larger narrative.
Some have observed that the Deuteronomic History may have preserved
older materials without entirely reworking them into a specific
theological agenda, as has been suggested by many redaction critics. They
suggest this as the reason we get "loose ends" when we try to interpret
texts from only one historical perspective, especially from the
perspective of the exilic or post-exilic era. For example, one of the
"loose ends" of this story is the detail that Gehazi and his family is
cursed with leprosy (5:27), yet he is later in conversation with the king
(8:4), something that seems impossible in view of the strict priestly law
codes that quarantined people with leprosy.
The existence of such "loose ends" is one reason I would prefer to
speak of a Deuteronomic framework for older traditions rather than
a thorough Deuteronomic redaction of the material to make it totally fit a
post-exilic agenda. I don’t think it is so much that the Deuteronomist
strove for consistency in rewriting the material, as it is that the
earlier traditions were placed into a theologically interpretative
framework that gave them a certain shaping. That allows very old details
of Israel’s struggle to come to a more "pure" form of monotheism to stand
side by side with the Deuteronomist’s own post-exilic perspective. The
exilic shaping of the earlier traditions was not so much in the content of
the traditions themselves as in how they were arranged and connected by
key theological speeches, summaries, or comments that served as
interpretative commentary for the traditions (for example, in the
dedication prayer of Solomon, or the summary of the cycles of oppressions
and deliverance at the beginning of Judges).
This is why I see significance in a larger macrostructure for the
D-History that allows it to be read in conjunction with, or even as
commentary upon, the Pentateuch (or Hexateuch, or even Tetrateuch,
depending on how one divides the sources and redaction; for a summary of
some of these issues, see History and Theology in Joshua and Judges). It also suggests that, in a way similar
to Jesus’ parables, some of the narratives must be read with discernment
and a sensitivity to what they would say to people who were willing to
hear the story from a point later in history (for example, the Gideon
story), rather than simply trying to reconstruct the earlier pre-literary
history.
Yet, in the context of the narrative, it does not appear that Naaman’s
actions in serving his king are presented as idolatry or polytheism at
all. This detail of the story acknowledges that while this may not be the
ideal way to worship, it may be the only way in which Naaman can be a
Yahweh-worshipper. In fact, this may actually be the significance of
including the detail of the dirt, to acknowledge the sincerity of Naaman’s
commitment.
Intertextual Dynamics: Balancing Voices
As far as Elisha approving a pagan practice by his blessing, I think we
need a different perspective on the story than just reading it through
later more developed ideas of monotheism. Perhaps we are too accustomed to
reading Jewish monotheism through the very narrow lens of post-exilic
priestly concerns, for example, as reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah
(especially Neh. 13). That the post-exilic community was concerned, almost
preoccupied, with "getting it right" this time around is clear from those
passages and others.
Yet, while the prophetic tradition was somewhat eclipsed during this
era by the priests, the Deuteronomic tradition was very active in the same
period in its attempts to mediate between the cultic and in some cases
legalistic aspects of the priestly views, and the pessimism of the
prophetic corpus to that time. What emerged was a Deuteronomic redaction,
or at least shaping, of the prophetic traditions like Jeremiah and the
earlier Twelve (Amos, Hosea) that allowed a strong call to monotheism
without the heavy emphasis on cultic concerns that emerged in the priestly
tradition (for example, in Ezekiel or Haggai).
The Deuteronomic traditions, which include post-exilic redactions of
the Former Prophets (Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings) as well as some of
the Prophetic books (Jeremiah), linked the call to monotheism with the
nature of the gracious God who had revealed himself in Israel’s history (for
example,
Deut 7:7-26). By so doing, they anchored faithfulness to God, not in the
specific performance of external acts of piety, but in faithful response
to that grace in all aspects of life. That came close to grounding
faithfulness to God in the intentions of the heart, while at the same time
allowed God to work in ways that could not be totally defined within the
framework of cultic practice.
So, for example, in Amos there is the acknowledgement that God was
somehow involved in a Philistine and Syrian exodus (Am 9:7-8), in Jonah
that God is concerned with Ninevites, and in Samuel that God desires
obedience more than he desires sacrifice. There is even the anti-cultic
stance of some of the prophets, like Jeremiah’s statement that God had
never commanded the Israelites to offer sacrifices in the wilderness (Jer
7:22-23), or Isaiah’s well-known polemic against insincere worship (Isa.
1:10-20).
The effect of this perspective in the context of the Deuteronomic
traditions is to define relationship with God as response to grace rather
than as obedience to law (see Torah as
Holiness). The warnings against idolatry remain strong in the
Deuteronomic traditions. Yet, with its emphasis on grace and the nature of
a God who chooses to be gracious, there is absent the negative emphasis on
judgment that dominates the prophets (there are still the "curses" on
unfaithfulness in Deuteronomy, but they are specifically historicized in
terms of loss of the land). Also absent is the preoccupation with purity
and less worry about contamination from any trace of Ba’al worship than
occurs in late post-exilic priestly collections (Leviticus,
Ezra-Nehemiah).
All this suggests that in spite of the dominant priestly tradition in
the post-exilic era, there still remained a counter voice in the community
warning of excessive emphasis on proper cultic performance and the
preoccupation with religious purity (Job is another and different counter
voice to religious orthodoxy in this era). That larger setting for the
Naaman story within the Deuteronomic history allows the emphasis in that
story to fall on the fact that God has accepted a Syrian who will worship
God outside Israel rather than on the dangers associated with the fact
that he must do so in a pagan environment.
In the larger structure of the Deuteronomic History, this story may
well be an apology for Jews in the Diaspora who must remain faithful to
God in just such environments (the book of Daniel deals with this same
issue from a different direction). In this sense, there is not really an
accommodation to pagan worship, only the acknowledgement that God is God
of all people, everywhere, an emerging theme of post-exilic theology (for
example,
Jonah). And yet, there is, indeed, the "practical" dimension of how that
will work out in a real world. The fact that Naaman must ask forgiveness
for participating in some way in pagan worship (1 Kings 5:18) is a clear
indication that this is not the "best" way; that would be, for the
Deuteronomist, to worship at the temple in Jerusalem. But since that is
impossible for Naaman, or for many Jews who would remain in the Diaspora,
the emphasis falls on the fact that they are faithful to God even in less
than ideal circumstances.
If we want to make this theological here, I think the blessing that the
prophet pronounces is on Namaan’s declared intention of worshipping Yahweh
alone, even though the "real-life" practice of that may not be done under
ideal conditions. I recall reading about Jews’ decision to observe
Passover with water and leavened bread in Auschwitz, even when they were
not sure what day it was! The point was not whether it was sacrilegious to
do so, but that they were doing it at all given the circumstances (I have
celebrated Eucharist with warm orange soda and tortillas).
So, I think this is a Deuteronomic way of working out the implications
of being the people of God in a real world, maintaining the strong
monotheism that the exile had produced while acknowledging that God and
relationship with him is "bigger" than what could be confined within
cultic practice or even within correct religious orthodoxy as defined by
the priests.
It is perhaps the same "spirit" of the torah that allows Jesus
to remain silent on certain matters, like slavery, or that even allows
Paul to return an escaped slave to his owner. That can be no justification
for slavery, no more than Elisha’s concession to Naaman was an approval of
polytheism. Rather, it has much more to do with what is possible within
certain constraints of history. It is an affirmation that there may be
more important issues at stake than those defined by the need to protect
the community from contamination, as important as the priestly tradition
understood that to be. That may well have relevance in addressing issues
within modern culture. It may also be an admission that the tension
between those who would preserve and protect and those who would advocate
a liberating God of grace is not a new one, and is not likely to be solved
by either side capitulating to the other.
-Dennis Bratcher, Copyright ©
2018, Dennis
Bratcher, All Rights Reserved
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