Is the God of the Old Testament Angry, Sexist and Racist?

By David T. Lamb 

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God created man and woman in the image of God and then commanded them to multiply and fill the earth (Gen 1:26-28), and over time groups of peoples and nations were eventually created, all of which reflect the divine image. Attitudes that denigrate people of a particular race are, therefore, not only racist but also insulting to the God who created all people in his image. Racism ultimately is blasphemous, since the Bible first informs us that the people of each and every ethnicity resemble God himself. Genesis has still more to teach us about race. 

(Lamb 2011, pp.72-73)

While the level of violence of the divine judgment of Joshua may seem excessive, elsewhere in the Old Testament God consistently punished evil nations with death and exile (Amos 1:5, 15; 5:5; Jer 48:7). He even judged his own people as first Israel and then Judah were destroyed and exiled from their land (2 Kings 17; 24-25). If Yahweh were racist, he would punish only other nations, not his own. God granted Israel the land, but he also removed them from the land, despite his promise to them, because they were wicked just like the Canaanites. The reason he did not give the land fully to Abraham earlier is that the iniquity of the inhabitants was “not yet complete” (Gen 15:16). So, even though the residents of Canaan deserved punishment hundreds of years earlier, God was gracious and slow to anger, giving them centuries to repent. Part of our problem with the conquest narratives comes from our discomfort with judgment more generally, but since punishment is found throughout Scripture, we need to continue to work to understand it and see how it fits in with God’s mission to bless the nations. 

(Lamb 2011, pp.79-80)

Another law that seems unnecessarily harsh is the “eye for an eye” law, also called lex talionis, or law of exact equivalence. Many people are familiar with Jesus’ radical response to this law in the Sermon on the Mount, in which he tells his listeners to “turn the other cheek” (Mt 5:39). But the clearest expression of this law appears in Leviticus. 

If anyone injures his neighbor, as he has done it shall be done to him, fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth; whatever injury he has given a person shall be given to him. (Lev 24:19-20)

If you injure another person’s bone, eye or tooth, as punishment your bone, eye or tooth will be injured similarly. Christians today are called by Jesus not to respond with an eye for an eye, but with turning the other cheek, going the second mile and loving our enemies (Mt 5:38-44). (Recently, one of my sons gave the other a wedgie. While chasing the perpetrator, the victim yelled out, “An eye for an eye, a wedgie for a wedgie.” While fleeing, the perpetrator replied, “You’re supposed to turn the other cheek.”)

Just as Jesus commands from the sermon on the Mount were progressive for first-century Israel, the lex talionis principle was progressive for ancient Israel. Old Testament scholar David Baker describes the societal benefits of lex talionis: “It limits vengeance and rules out punishment disproportionate to the offense.” As anyone with sons knows, the pattern that usually follows violence is not equivalent retaliation but escalation. You pinch me, I hit your arm. You hit my arm, I punch your face. On a national scale the escalation principle, if left unchecked, eventually results in war. An eye for an eye, therefore, limits the violence, resulting in simple, swift and straightforward justice in a world without an overly complicated legal system. 

While Yahweh’s legal punishments seem violent, they were actually effective means of reducing violent crime and promoting peace among his people. Personally, I’m glad that the God of the Old Testament took extreme measures to care for the poor and the powerless and to prevent bloodshed and war. 

(Lamb 2011, pp.105-106)

While Jesus tends to get exclusive credit for the “love your enemies” idea (Mt 5:44), the inspiration for it comes from the God of the Old Testament, from stories like Elisha, the kings and the horses. There are many other examples of peacemaking in the Old Testament. Elisha’s Syrian strategy seems to come straight out of the book of Proverbs: “If your enemy is hungry, give him bread to ear, / and if he is thirsty, give him water to drink” (Prov 25:21). As we saw in chapter four, Elisha and the slave girl both loved their enemy, the Syrian general Naaman, who was healed from leprosy. David could have easily killed his enemy Saul on two occasions but refused because he knew Yahweh would not have approved (1 Sam 24:3-7; 26:7-12). The three wise women of Samual mentioned in chapter three (Abigail, the woman of Tekoa, the woman of Abel) acted as divine peacemakers and used their wisdom to prevent bloodshed (1 Sam 25; 2 Sam 14; 20). While Jonah didn’t want to love his Assyrian enemies, Yahweh gave him no choice, and the Ninevites eventually repented (Jon 3). In Jeremiah’s letter, Yahweh told the exiles in Babylon to love their enemies: “Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (Jer 29:7). In a prophetic vision of the future found in both Isaiah and Micah, after Yahweh teaches everyone his wars, swords become unnecessary and are beaten into plowshares, and nations stop fighting each other (Is 2:4; Mic 4:3). Because the God of the Old Testament is a God of peace, he wanted his people to be at peace with their neighbors. 

(Lamb 2011, pp.108-109)

What about all the random laws that don’t seem to make any sense? For example, “You shall not wear clothes made of wool and linen woven together” (Deut 22:9-11 NRSV). Why does God care whether or not the Israelites wore clothes that blended wool and linen? Is Yahweh really so high control he wants to tell his people exactly what they can wear? (God should have given a command not to wear stripes with plaids. I would have benefitted from teh during my twenties.)

While commands about clothing may seem bizarre and unnecessary, these types of laws are culturally specific, addressing particular problems from their context. Imagine how advice given in a 2010 sermon about lust would sound to a reader in the year 5010: “Don’t buy Sports Illustrated in early February, and avoid the red-light district.” Most males today understand that the SI swimsuit issue comes out right after the Super Bowl and that in a certain section of town they can expect to find prostitutes, but in three thousand years (roughly how distant we are from these Old Testament laws) this sound advice for avoiding sexual sin won’t make sense. It would seem random, like a command not to wear wool and linen. 

Commentators suggest that the wool and linen command might be connected to practices of magic, so an equivalent command might be, “Don’t play with a Ouija board,” or it may have to do with prostitution, comparable to “Avoid the red-light district.” We really don’t know what is behind these laws, but since the vast majority of the Old Testament laws make sense and are obviously good laws, it is reasonable to assume that there is a particular societal problem that these types of laws are addressing. Because God is a good lawgiver, he makes laws that are specific enough to deal with contemporary issues and actual circumstances that he knew his people would face. 

(Lamb 2011, pp.124)

I don’t believe the law prescribing death for sabbath breaking is still valid for Christians. As we’ll soon see, Jesus didn’t support capital punishment for sabbath breaking, but on the sabbath he frequently healed and also allowed his disciples to pluck grain. But the principle of resting and devoting a day to God is still valid. And as we discuss the severity of this punishment, we can’t lose sight of the original purpose of the command. The sabbath was meant to be a blessing. Yahweh commanded his people to rest. While a few Old Testament commands might seem random, the command to rest is obviously a good thing.

Many ailments people suffer from today (sports injuries, carpal tunnel syndrome, the common cold, job-related ulcers, stress-induced insomnia, strokes and so on) are caused in part by ignoring the divine mandate to rest. What is often the first thing a doctor tells a sick patient? “Get some rest.” God gave that prescription thousands of years ago. Humans know that rest is good, but we still need God to remind us to rest, to command us to rest and occasionally even to punish us when we don’t rest. 

I’m thankful for the command to rest. Like the commands to reproduce and to eat, it is clearly a command that is meant to bless. I like to tell people, “My God commands me to have sex, eat and rest. Can your God beat that?”

In the ancient Babylonian creation myth, Enuma Elish, the god Marduk created the humans (from the body of Tiamat, his defeated rival) as slaves to serve the gods so the gods could rest. In the Pentateuch, Yahweh created humans in his own image and then he commanded them to rest in order to bless them. Personally, I prefer Yahweh to Marduk. God’s many commands, his specific commands and even his severe commands are all meant to bless his people. 

(Lamb 2011, pp.126-127)

So God of both the Old Testament and the New Testament is not a legalist, but Christians often can be, and to people outside the church those legalisms make God appear legalistic. Christian legalism takes three basic forms. First, God’s laws are viewed as a way to earn salvation. It may be tempting to think that the church has moved beyond this issue since the Reformation, but forms of this legalism still thrive today as some churches demand things such as a certain type of baptism, manifestations of spiritual gifts, the avoidance of “bad words,” deeds to help the poor or abstinence from alcohol. However, both testaments teach that strict obedience to the law in general or to any specific law cannot make us righteous in God’s eyes; only faith in God does that (Gen 15:6; Gal 3:6). 

Second, God’s laws are viewed as a means to pay God back. When the sermon winds down, the preacher says, “God has done so much for you. He died on the cross for your sins. The least you can do for him is to obey his commands.” The problem with this view is that instead of biblical laws being good for us, they are good for God. By obeying his commands, we are somehow doing him a favor. This view sounds more like Marduk in the Enuma Elish than Yahweh in the Old Testament or Jesus in the New Testament. Scriptures never says we pay God back with our obedience. The cattle on a thousand hills are God’s, so if he wants a burger he won’t ask us (Ps 50:10-12). The God who made the world and everything in it is not served by human hands as though he needs anything (Acts 17:24-25). While we might not like being in debt, not even to God, we can’t pay him back and he doesn’t want us to. God’s salvation is a gift, pure and simple. No need to pay him back. A “thank you” will suffice – or, better yet, “a sacrifice of thanksgiving” (Ps 50:14).

Third, God’s laws are viewed as merely a duty or obligation. No real reason is given for obedience. “God commanded it, I do it.” The biggest problem with this form of legalism is that it leads to pride. (I know it’s hard to imagine a prideful Christian.) The Bible does provide reasons to obey, because God knows we need motivation. 

If we think about helping the poor, for example, we might find Christians who legalistically say it is necessary to be saved or it is a way to pay God back or it is simply our duty. The Bible gives us plenty of reasons to help the poor, just none of those, God tells us that as we obey his command to help the poor, he blesses us (Deut 15:10; Lk 14:13-14), he hears our prayer (Is 58:7-9), he dwells with us (Jer 7:5-7), we avoid a curse (Prov 28:27), we have treasure in heaven (Mk 10:21) and, my personal favorite, we meet Jesus (Mt 25:34-40). After all, the purpose of the law is to move us deeper into relationship with God. Because God is good, generous and gracious and he wants us to avoid legalism, he provides us with plenty of biblical incentives for following his command to care for the poor – enough incentives to make someone as lazy as me want to go help. 

(Lamb 2011, pp.131-133)

Is it good that God changes his mind? To Jonah, it was not good that Yahweh changed his mind. Jonah wanted the wicked Assyrians to be destroyed. But if you were a Ninevite, an Israelits, Hezekiah or David, it was good that Yahweh changed his mind. If you are a child who deserves to be punished, it is good when a parent changes his mind about your punishment. If you are a car buyer, it is bad when a used-car dealer changes his mind about the low price he had promised.

The fact that God doesn’t change his commitments but remains faithful to his promises is great news, but the fact that he extends not condemnation but mercy to the contrite is even greater news. Wouldn’t it also be great if Christians had a reputation of being like God in this way and not like inflexible Angela from The Office, if we were known as being unchangeable in a good way (faithful, loyal, reliable and dependable) and changeable in a good way (merciful, gracious, flexibel and compassionate). To make this true, Christians will need to teach not only about divine immutability but also about divine flexibility. 

When I was eight I went to a church summer camp for the first time. I have three memories from that camp, one bad and two good. First, I discovered a nine-year-old girl liked me (that’s bad). Second, we snuck a garter snake into the girl’s cabin (that’s good). Third, I committed my life to Jesus (that’s very good). On the final night, the speaker told us that people who didn’t have a relationship with Jesus would go to hell. (I wouldn’t generally recommend this method of evangelism, but it worked for me when I was eight.) I didn’t want to go to hell. I’ve always been motivated more by the pitchfork than the carrot. I raised my hand and prayed the prayer. Just like the Ninevites, I repented and God relented from meting out the future judgment I deserved. 

I think it was good that God changed his assessment of me. I also think it is good that I can know he will not change his promises to be faithful to me. It is also good that I am stubborn, because it means I won’t change my deep commitments to Shannon and to Jesus. 

(Lamb 2011, pp.151-152)

Perhaps the most surprising thing about this psalm is that it is included in the Bible at all. Since laments could make God look bad because he appears to forsake (Ps 22) and forget (Ps 13) his people, we might think God would be offended by them just like Monty Python’s God in the clouds. But if God were really offended, he shouldn’t have inspired so many laments and authorized their inclusion in his Word. Laments are by far the most common type of psalm; over 40 percent of the psalms are laments. However, they are also the most frequently ignored type of psalm. 

God apparently thought it was good for the writers of Scripture to express their honest questions about his apparent absence. God gave laments to his people as a way to pray in the midst of pain. Jesus even modeled appropriate use of a lament (Ps 22) by showing how relevant it was to his own crisis as he was dying on a cross. However, the primary reason Jesus quoted Psalm 22 wasn’t to model how to lament and it wasn’t to show how a messianic psalm pointed to him. He quoted Psalm 22 because it expressed what he was feeling. He needed to lament. And so do we. 

When God seems distant in the midst of crises and pain, we can pray the psalms of lament. As we follow the pattern of the lament – from doubts and despair to prayer and petition – we eventually arrive at a place of hope, trust and praise. While it happens quickly in the six verses of Psalm 13, it may take much longer in our own lives. But there are plenty of psalms of lament to read during times of trouble. God knows that there will be times when he feels distant from us, so during those times he has provided prayers, these “miserable psalms” of lament that not only keep the communication lines open but also gradually draw us back into presence, into a place of trust and faith. 

(Lamb 2011, pp.156-157)

First, Jesus told stories. He was quite a storyteller, sometimes telling parable after parable as he does in the next few chapters: the lost coin, the prodigal son, the shrewd manager, the rich man and Lazarus, the unjust judge, and the Pharisee and the tax collector. In this last parable, the tac collector, not the Pharisee, was the one who was justified (Lk 18:9-14). If I were a tax collector, I would love to hear a story that exalts a tax collector. 

Second, Jesus sought after these types of people. The parable he told here makes this point powerfully. The shepherd (Jesus) left the ninety-nine sheep (the Pharisees?) and pursued the lost sheep (the tax collectors and sinners). While the religious leaders were repelled by this crowd, Jesus was drawn to them. He pursued them like he would a lost sheep, and they must have perceived his concern for them. Not surprisingly, the idea of God as shepherd pursuing lost sheep originally comes from the Old Testament, in the book of Exekiel (Ezek 34:11-16).

Third, Jesus liked them. Just like the shepherd in the parable, Jesus liked the lost so much he threw a party when he found them. Jesus received tax collectors and sinners, ate with them and celebrated with them because he liked them, so they naturally were drawn to him. Given what Jesus was like, it’s not surprising that mobsters and prostitutes were attracted to him; what is surprising is that Jesus’ followers today don’t generally follow his example. We are often more like the Pharisees and scribes in our aversion to and even repulsion toward the tax collectors and sinners around us.

(Lamb 2011, pp.174)

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References

Lamb, David T. 2011. God Behaving Badly: Is the God of the Old Testament Angry, Sexist and Racist? N.p.: InterVarsity Press.

ISBN 978-0-8308-3826-4