The vast majority of people Jesus healed went home to family and friends to tell the tale, though the Lord would often instruct them not to reveal who had healed them, especially early in his ministry. In some cases, he commanded even the demons he drove out of men and women not to speak “because they knew him”.
Unclean spirits tended to use phrases like “Son of God” to describe him. That might be a bit of a giveaway.
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“What is the Synoptic Problem?”
The word ‘synoptic’ refers to the gospels written by Matthew, Mark and Luke, coming from the Latin synopticus, literally “seeing all together”. Wikipedia describes the Synoptic Problem this way:
“The ‘synoptic problem’ is … the question as to the source or sources upon which each synoptic gospel depended when it was written.”
You too may have noticed passages from the three gospels that are similar to one another. I’m not quite sure why commentators describe it as a problem. I think of it more as a curiosity.
It occurred to me while reading through the Gospel of Mark that the significance of many little things perfectly obvious to Bible students or people with a Christian upbringing is probably quite lost on first time readers, especially those whose background is not Jewish.
Little things like the words of the blind beggar Bartimaeus, who cried out to Jesus, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” That “Son of David” thing must have been important: after all, the blind guy kept repeating it despite everybody around him trying to hush him up.
He wasn’t the only one. That title was something Jesus heard regularly.
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The tribe of Ephraim was contrary, rebellious and idolatrous. The half-tribe of Manasseh in Gilead refused to obey the judges God raised up to defend Israel, provoking a brief civil war. The histories in Judges reveal the persistent moral failings of Joseph’s children during this period.
However, Ephraim and Manasseh were hardly the only Israelite tribes whose cultures bottomed out during the rule of the judges.
In which our regular writers toss around subjects a little more volatile than usual.
Juan Cole at Alternet.org has bucketloads of fun in an article entitled “If the Christian Right Wants to Get Worked Up About Sexual Controversy, They Should Read These 5 Bible Passages”. He goes to town on Solomon’s 300 concubines, Abraham and Hagar, etc.
In a forlorn attempt at evenhandedness, Mr. Cole tosses in this disclaimer: “Ancient scripture can be a source of higher values and spiritual strength, but any time you in a literal-minded way impose specific legal behavior because of it, you’re committing anachronism.”
Tom: Immanuel Can, one of things I love most about Mr. Cole is the unquestioned assumption that each scripture he cites is a “gotcha” moment to the religious right. Like none of us have seen these passages until his article came along …
Pearls of wisdom from Mary Kassian:
“A husband does not have the right to demand or extract submission from his wife. Submission is HER choice — her responsibility … it is NOT his right!! Not ever. She is to ‘submit herself’ — deciding when and how to submit is her call. In a Christian marriage, the focus is never on rights, but on personal responsibility. It’s his responsibility to be affectionate. It’s her responsibility to be agreeable. The husband’s responsibility is to sacrificially love as Christ loved the Church — not to make his wife submit.”
So it is “HER choice — her responsibility … deciding when and how to submit is her call”. So declares Mary Kassian.
The introduction to Psalm 45 calls it a love song and tells us the Sons of Korah wrote it. The psalm portrays a glorious, conquering king. By verse 5, his enemies, in so many words, have become his footstool. Hmm, now where have I heard that before?
I jest. There’s no difficulty identifying the king as our Lord Jesus Christ. The writer to the Hebrews quotes verses 6 and 7 of this very psalm and plainly tells us they speak of “the Son”, distinguishing him above all created beings, no matter how powerful and glorious.
“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”
In yesterday’s Anonymous Asks post, we considered Adam and Eve. One was deceived into sinning, the other was not, but neither had much more to work with than a simple, unambiguous command: do not eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The penalty: “you shall surely die”.
They were given the “what” but not really the “why”.
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“Why does God allow deception?”
Google the phrase “Why does God allow”. Stop there. The number one answer by a long, long shot is “suffering”. Even my browser’s AI response assumes that’s what my open-ended question is really asking. Second highest is “evil”. Third is “tragedy”, which may or may not have a malevolent component. I often associate tragedy with natural events that hurt people, or things like dying young.
Way down the list is “Why does God allow me to struggle and fail?” Hey, I sympathize.
“It’s a bad testimony,” she insisted.
The speaker was an older friend, the “bad testimony” a younger friend, and the evidence a report from a third party about a political opinion the younger friend had posted to social media where the whole world (or at least people who follow him, depending on his settings) could read it and react, pro or con.
Almost immediately, I was on the fence. A “bad testimony” is often very much in the eye of the beholder. Or at least it depends on the lens one is looking through.
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Others have noted Judges does not recount certain events in chronological order. The story in chapters 17 and 18 appears to have taken place after the death of Samson during a period in which Israel had no named judge, maintaining a more-or-less linear march through time to this point in the book. However, it’s evident the final three chapters (19-21) actually took place quite a bit earlier and probably find their place at the end of the book for theological, dramatic and/or thematic reasons.
Historically speaking, chapter 18 concludes Judges.
In which our regular writers toss around subjects a little more volatile than usual.
Tom: A few weeks back, I was sent a list of questions asked anonymously by a group of teenagers attending a Christian summer camp. This one sounds like it’s worth thinking about:
“Do you think that we should wait to date until we are more prepared to be married, i.e., financially responsible, able to cook and clean … OR date younger?”
There’s a hot potato, IC. I’m actually impressed that a younger person is open to considering the options, given that our society operates in a very predictable fashion today where young people are concerned. What do you think of the question?
I was reading a book on apologetics, a collection of essays. It had one by Sean McDowell. Yes, that Sean McDowell, son of the more famous Josh McDowell. (How tired he must be of hearing that!)
Anyway, I’ve read a few McDowell books, and from the first moment I opened one, I remember feeling a vague sense of … what was it? ... a sort of vague ‘missing’.
Did any of our most-read posts in 2025 have a consistent theme? Not really.
Well, maybe. Three of our most popular offerings this year concerned so-called believers or former believers some critics accuse of heresy, fraud or spiritual abuse. Three others concerned various church practices. Two more came from our surprisingly successful series on Psalm 119. Who knew readers would be interested in a verse-by-verse breakdown of the Bible’s longest psalm? Not me.
Okay, maybe WiC did. It was his suggestion.