It’s not often I come up with anything that, I imagine, could actually contribute to biblical studies, in even the tiniest way. Like never. But I think I’ve got something. Maybe it’s old news. Maybe somebody pointed it out long ago, and I just don’t know about it. But I’ve never heard it mentioned, that I can recall.
This Big Insight does not rise from the depth of my spirituality, or from my profound understanding of the words of Scripture. It arises from the fact that, as a Viking reenactor, I wear and use armor from time to time, something your average biblical scholar only gets to do during that crazy week in the senior year at seminary, when he gets initiated into the Secret Global Conspiracy and undergoes the Unspeakable Rite.
Just kidding.
Anyway, I’m thinking of the famous “full armor of God” passage, from Ephesians 6:10-18:
Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes…. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place….”
I’ve always had trouble with the symbolism of this whole passage. Is Paul just slapping random labels on military equipment, or are there particular reasons why he attaches one particular spiritual concept to a specific piece of gear?
I think I’ve got the belt and the breastplate figured out now.
For one thing, the word “breastplate” is misleading. The Greeks wore breastplates, but the Romans generally had more complicated armor. I can imagine Paul, sitting in his cell with some German-born soldier shackled to him, asking the guy questions. “What’s that for?” “How does it work?” “Is it uncomfortable?” “Are you going to eat that piece of cannoli?”
What the Romans wore for body armor was a thing called a lorica. Usually when we think of the lorica, we think of the classic lorica segmentata, the lobster-shell contraption we’ve seen in so many movies and Sunday School illustrations.
(Photo credit, Matthias Kabel)
But in fact, although the lorica s. certainly existed in Paul’s time, he would have seen a lot more of its predecessor, what was known as the lorica hamata. The lorica hamata was made of mail, very much like my own mail shirt, except for the extra padding at the shoulders.
(Photo credit: Greatbeagle)
OK, so here’s the thing about mail. It’s actually heavier than plate, per square inch of coverage. A mail shirt is lighter to wear than to lift, because its weight gets distributed over the body, but after you’ve had it on a while, it starts dragging you down. The bulk of its weight hangs from your shoulders, and that makes it hard to do soldier stuff, like fighting.
But your belt helps. A lot. When you strap a belt around your waist, cinch it up, and then lap a little of the mail over its top, it takes a lot of that weight off your shoulders, and after a while you don’t even notice it. Much.
Until you take the shirt off again. Then you feel like you weigh about ten pounds.
So here’s how I see the passage about the breastplate of righteousness and the belt of truth.
Righteousness is hard. It’s heavy, like mail, a weight that bears you down and inhibits your functioning. Jesus made righteousness even more heavy, by demanding goodness of heart as well as goodness of deed.
The answer, Paul says, is to buckle on the belt of truth. The truth is that Christ has become our righteousness. We no longer have to carry the weight of the demands of the Law. Christ has carried it for us. And that’s the truth that lightens our burden.
(Cross-posted at Mere Comments)
And there students you have a fine example of Biblical literary illumination. ….Or, good thinking… I will wear that for a while and see if still fits in a few weeks.
BTW…a fellow at my church makes chain mail. His stuff is really quite good from what I’ve seen. Are there things to look for that make it more or less authentic? What is a good/fair price for one of them little items?
Well, most people who make their own make what’s known as “butted mail.” Butted mail is just a network of rings, interconnected, the rings closed with a pair of pliers. The fabric is held together by the strength of the wire alone. It’s authentic in the sense that it actually existed and was used in history, but it’s only marginally acceptable in Viking reenactment, because the Vikings riveted theirs. Still, much of the mail you see on reenactors is butted, because it’s way cheaper. (Mine is riveted, thank you very much.)
I paid $400 for my shirt of riveted mail. I understand it’s a little cheaper now, but I don’t think it’s gone down a lot. Butted would go for about half that, or less if you get a good deal.
Not to dwell too awfully long on this… was there Sunday-Going-to-Meeting mail? Or mail for a night out with the guys? Or mail for a night out with the little lady? Or, because of the weight, was it only worn primarily for a bit of tussling with the bad guys? Was/is there different colors/styles/size of rings, etc./ mail for different status of the wearers? Did women ever wear mail on a regular basis? I assume the mail rusts… is it a job to oil and polish it often? Thanks again.
I’m not being silly here! It is truly interesting to me.
There could be various qualities of mail. Smaller rings are better and safer than larger. Heavier gauge wire is better than thinner (unless it’s thinner because there are smaller, and more, rings). Bronze or brass rings could be worked in for decoration. There’s such a thing as double mail, which is very protective, but I don’t know if the Vikings had it.
However, the average guy would be really lucky if he had one mail shirt. Most men couldn’t afford a shirt of mail at all, since it was worth the price of a good farm (very labor-intensive to make). They’d go to war wearing something like a padded leather jacket, maybe with iron or bone plates riveted on. Mail (like a sword) was generally for the rich or for professionals, unless you were lucky enough to scrounge one from the corpse of an enemy.
Women didn’t generally fight in wars, and so generally didn’t wear mail, though I expect there were exceptions.
Mail is a mess to keep rust-free. The usual methods for cleaning it were a) to put it in a barrel with either crushed walnut shells or dry sand, and roll the barrel repeatedly down a hill, or b) to put the same ingredients in a sack, hang it from a tree, and let the kids whack it with sticks, like a pinata. But less fun.