Abstract
In their provocatively titled book Bloody, Brutal, and Barbaric? Wrestling with Troubling War Texts, William Webb and Gordon Oeste (both at Tyndale Seminary) offer a helpful spectrum of five competing ethical approaches to biblical holy war texts involving genocide and war rape. Their functional labels on the spectrum include: Traditional Plus/Beyond Ethics (God is morally free to do whatever God wants and is not constrained by human standards); Traditional (OT holy war texts are ethically difficult, but God is constrained to act within God’s revealed character as just and holy, so that holy war must be just); Realigned-Traditional View (the authors’ mediating position in the middle of the spectrum acknowledging elements of the ugly and the beautiful); Antitraditional View (the dark, evil ethics were human initiatives and do not paint an actual portrait of God); Antitraditional Plus (a new-atheism view of utterly repulsive ethics that make God into a genocidal baby killer whom no one could believe or trust). They aim to address readers who have been raised with the Traditional or Traditional Plus view. Full disclosure: I am not one of those readers. My theological commitments rest with the Antitraditional View; these are descriptive rather than prescriptive texts (as Phyllis Trible would argue).
Six clearly stated theses comprise the framework for their work: 1. Square pegs, round holes (traditional answers to the ethics of holy war are “good answers” for the original readers who would not have been troubled by ethical problems we raise today); 2. Total-kill rhetoric is hyperbole (that ought not be taken literally); 3. Divine accommodation (God “stoops down” in our messy world to engage in ancient warfare); 4. Incremental, redemptive-movement ethic (God moves in a good direction amid the ugliness of the ancient warfare; Israel shows restraint in its violence); 5. Bringing God and Jesus together (both weep and subvert war); 6. Unfinished justice story (eschatological reversal will right all wrongs).
Problematic for these theses is Webb’s and Oeste’s theological reading of war texts without attention to dating, authorship, and archaeology, which they argue is beyond the scope of their book. For example, in terms of thesis #1, the claim that ancient war atrocities would not have been on the radar of the “original audience” begs the question of dating and authorship. Feminists such as I struggle with thesis #4. The authors insist that we can see the redemptive side of rape texts if we view them within the context of ancient warfare, but do not discuss how women must work doubly hard to work through such texts because redemption comes at the expense of our bodies (compare here prophetic use of the marriage metaphor to symbolize the covenant between Israel and God; see especially Hos. 2 in this regard). In terms of thesis #6, they draw links between the OT prophets and Jesus, the “apocalyptic warrior” in Revelation, by suggesting a shared emphasis on a future day for God’s people (359) without distinguishing between prophetic and apocalyptic eschatology. The prophets saw that future day within this life, not the next.
To understand the authors’ aim in Bloody, Brutal, and Barbaric, the authors ask readers to recognize how both a post-9/11 world view and the experience of loss of both of its authors shape their arguments. During the writing of the book, William Webb’s son died from a degenerative brain disease and Gordon Oeste lost his job because he challenged traditional views of biblical war texts. This book is their search for joy “after spiritual numbness” (4). Though they succeed in reaching their intended audience, I wonder if they have moved the needle far enough. As a reviewer, I am shaped presently by the Covid-19 pandemic and the eruption of racial unrest across the USA in the wake of the murder of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery. In our present context, the authors’ conclusion seems achingly inadequate: “Ultimately, our final better answer to the ethics of biblical warfare looks to the future, when God can and will, based on his [sic] revealed character, resolve all … temporal injustice questions through an eternal turning of the tables” (358); “the justice story is not yet finished” (360; emphasis original). Yes, the authors experienced pain, but they are still people of white privilege, and I wonder how their conclusion would resonate with those proclaiming Black Lives Matter today.