Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20
In her 2021 book “Looking for the Good War: American Amnesia and the Violent Pursuit of Happiness,” historian Elizabeth Samet challenges the near religious framing of the Second World War, especially after Tom Brokaw and other media personalities turned the fiftieth anniversary of that war into a celebration of what they framed as a simpler and better time. We saved Private Ryan and fought with a Band of Brothers, trying not to talk about our own sins, including the racist internment of Japanese-American citizens.
Samet’s book is an example of one simple fact: the past is always seen through the lens of the present. Paul Thomas Chamberlin’s “Scorched Earth: A Global History of World War II,” which challenges the hero myths surrounding Allied leaders like Churchill, Montgomery, and MacArthur, was written in the context of the bad wars of the 20th century, the strategic failure in Iraq, the utter defeat in Afghanistan.
And now, we are at war with Iran, a war we are meant to believe isn’t truly dangerous because we have no “boots on the ground.” I’d say “tell that to the families of those killed in action,” except Pete “Testy” Hegseth is doing his best to prevent the public from knowing the true toll, “Testy” because he is obsessed with morning woodies and the testosterone levels of all service members, even the women, when he should be obsessed with the drones and missiles that are killing our troops.
Using “boots” to represent women and men in uniform is an example of a synecdoche, a figure of speech where a part of something is meant to represent the whole. Another example is when unionized laborers refer to corporate executives as “the suits.”
And I want to suggest that when we speak about God, the words we use are a bit like a synecdoche, Divine Mystery so great, so transcendent, that we imagine and speak of a part, not the whole. But first, let’s go back to our reading.
In the tradition of Rabbinic Judaism, the first five books of scripture, called the Torah, are normative. They contain 613 rules for Jewish life, referred to as mitzvot. Though tradition says all five books were written by Moses, we know that texts referring to the Temple cult and priesthood come after they were established, certainly no earlier than the reign of King Solomon. We know that the Book of the Law, “discovered” by the High Priest Hilkiah during restoration of the Temple during the late 7th century B.C.E. is what we now call Deuteronomy, one of two sources for the Ten Commandments. The other, the one we read this morning from the Book of Exodus, is of uncertain origin.
If you are like me, you were taught that there is only one god, and that the Jewish people only ever believed in one god. You were probably also taught that the Israelites and Judahites often fell into the sin of worshipping false gods represented by idols. Generations of orthodox Christians, orthodox with a lower case “o,” would have us believe that there is one straight line from Abraham and Sarah to Moses, from Moses to David, from David to Jesus, from Jesus to Peter, and on to that White Sox fan in Rome. Protestants see that same trajectory until Martin Luther rebels in the early 16th century. Any pretense of a single trajectory falls apart for Protestants after that.
In reality, the earliest layers of scripture are polytheistic. Yahweh is conflated with the Sky-god head of the Canaanite pantheon, El, and worship of other Canaanite gods, including El’s consort, Asherah, continued for centuries after the reigns of David and Solomon. It was in Israel, the Northern Kingdom and the first to be destroyed, that the Yahweh cult became exclusive. Refugees from that kingdom found their way to the surviving Southern Kingdom of Judah, where their belief eventually took hold, leading to a series of reforms, and putting early Judaism on a path to what we know today, an ethical monotheism.
The Ten Commandments land somewhere in the middle of this trajectory. They represent the human role in constructing belief, but also the evolutionary pressures on belief, for belief must contribute to thriving in its current context to survive, even if that is only thriving for a powerful subset of the population.
Continue reading “Synecdoche: 4 October 2026”