Advent and the Hope of Resurrection (Lecture Notes)

I lectured at First Baptist Church of Santa Ana (my home church), and this my lecture. I went largely off-script, but this might be of help to some of you.

Thanks

Because of the recent terror attacks in San Bernardino, we are reminded of many facets of what it means to be human. Excluding the contentious nature of political discourse, I’m going to focus on two very specific theological points that have direct relevance for our modern Christian context. Because time is limited, I will be primarily focusing upon 1 Corinthians 15, with several additional comments concerning Romans 8 and Psalm 110, as well as other Second Temple Jewish texts.

Before we begin, we need to determine what “death” actually is. Many modern theologians (and not a few ancient ones!) seem keen on defining death as separation of body from soul (or spirit), and the whole matter of death becomes spiritualized almost to the point of being gnostic. Since Christians are not Gnostics (!) we need to look over how Death is viewed in Scripture.

In the Psalms, death is utilized in poetic form, and is most often simply intended to communicate the loss of life. For instance, Psalm 34:21 says, “Evil brings death to the wicked, and those who hate the righteous will be condemned.” Paul writes in Romans 5:10, “For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life.” Notice the pattern: “death” means death. While “death” can be used in a stylized or metaphorical sense, it largely refers to the loss or extinction of life that makes a human person animated. The heart stops, the brain ceases, and all that kept us moving ceases.

A happy concept, to be certain!

The first theological point has to do with kingship and literary personification or typology. This is a wider point, but it is a major factor in Pauline theology. To put it in perspective, we often think about Paul working from problem (human sin, justification) to solution (Christ’s death as an atoning sacrifice). However, it is necessary to reconsider this configuration.

Putting it succinctly—which is hard to do for New Testament students—Paul operates not with a problem to solution formula, but rather the opposite: Christ is the solution, but to what problem? Why was Christ raised from the dead? In the Old Testament, it was the death of the animal that was necessary for atonement. The animal was not then resurrected to eternal life! It simply stayed dead, having made its own sacrifice.

Christ’s resurrection, then, is a disruption of something. But what? To put a finer point on it, we do not have a New Testament without the resurrection of Jesus. I’m going to offer two considerations for this, and I’d love pushback, or complements, or both! So here we go.

When Paul writes in Romans 5:14, “Yet death exercised dominion from Adam to Moses…” he is likely talking about physical death. Death here is the Greek noun θάνατος (thanatos), and it is articular—that is, it has a definite article that specifies or intensifies the noun (ὁ θάνατος: ha thanatos). Thus, death here is “Death” with a capital D. This Death is said to have “reigned” (ἐβασίλευσεν: aorist active verb) or “exercised kingship.” Death, from Adam, was the one who ran the show, so to speak. We know this from the Old Testament, specifically Genesis 3, where Adam and Eve are addressed as “you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Mortality is imposed upon our ancestral father and mother as a consequence of sin, and thus, as Scripture and the Christian tradition affirm, we now die.

A point of consideration is that, to be immortal and able to sin with impunity, is a horrific thought. It would affirm that Death cannot be destroyed, and that Sin will eternally exist in God’s good creation. The very presence of human Death demands a response, but we do not know what this response is, or even if this problem is even a problem. Death, for us, is often just a sad reality.

We are subjected by this Death, brought about by Adam and Eve. The verb ἐβασίλευσεν occurs five times within Romans 5 (v.14, 17, 21) and each time it is connected with death and contrasted with life.

V.14: … ἐβασίλευσεν ὁ θάνατος… (“Death reigned…”)

V.17: … ὁ θάνατος ἐβασίλευσεν διὰ τοῦ ἑνός… (“Death reigned through the one…”)

V.17: … ἐν ζωῇ βασιλεύσουσιν διὰ τοῦ ἑνὸς Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ (“…will reign in life through the one Jesus Christ”)

The second use is a future indicative verb, namely, we “will reign” through or because of Christ Jesus and he resurrection. The Greek word ζωῇ refers to life in all it’s fullness, and here it refers to physical life—namely eternal life—because of the contrast with Death.

V.21: … ἵνα ὥσπερ ἐβασίλευσεν ἡ ἁμαρτία ἐν τῷ θανάτῳ (“so that, just as Sin reigned in Death…”)

Death and Sin here are articular, and the use of the preposition “in” (ἐν) illustrates a contrast between the evocative idiom, “In Christ” that dominates Paul’s thinking. To be “in Christ” to be included in the people of God, to be regarded as a firstborn Son or Daughter, a full member who participates in the Kingdom of God.

V.21: … χάρις βασιλεύσῃ διὰ δικαιοσύνης εἰς ζωὴν αἰώνιον διὰ Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν (“so grace might reign through righteousness into life eternal through Jesus Christ our Lord”).

The second use is an aorist subjunctive, indicating the hope of the future. In every instance, Death in Romans 5:12-21 is articular, intended to communicate the destructive kingship of Death. Death is King. Death controls our lives, and exercises dominion over our mortal bodies by claiming them for itself. We see this every time we turn on the television, get on the Internet, or open a newspaper.

We know no other reality other than death. As Paul says in Romans 6:23, “For the wages of sin is death [θάνατος], but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” The contrast between physical death and physical life is intentional; there is nothing abstract about it.

Yet.

As is evident throughout 1 Corinthians, division and strife lie at the heart of the conflict in Corinth (to borrow a phrase from Ben Witherington), and 1 Corinthians is meant to assert a solution. Paul already knows what the problem is, but outlines their problems in order to pry their grip loose.

For Paul, then, Death is an enemy—the last or final enemy. In 1 Corinthians 15, we see into the very heart of Paul’s solution:

Then comes the end,[g] when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power. 25 For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. 26 The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

The use of ἐχθρός (“enemy”) is fairly common throughout the New Testament, being used a little over 30 times. In Paul, it seems to refer to a hostile person or concept, an antagonism that suggests that which is negative and opposite of God or the truth. In the Gospel of Matthew, in chapter 5, Jesus says, ““You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy’ (ἐχθρόν) But I say to you, Love your enemies (ἐχθροὺς) and pray for those who persecute you…”

An enemy is that which counters you, betrays you, and seeks your destruction for their own personal gain. Death, for Paul, is the final enemy. The ἔσχατος enemy: final, end, concluding. After Christ, fulfilling for Paul the role of YHWH in Psalm 110:5-6, has “put his enemies under his feet” (see Psalm 110:1), Christ then moves onto the final enemy.

Here, in v.26, Christ “annihilates” (καταργεῖται: present active middle/passive) Death. Mostly likely, the use of the verb indicates a both/and scenario. By Christ’s resurrection, we see the first fruits of the defeat of the final enemy. But since we await Christ’s glorious return, we do not see the final defeat of this evil entity. We know this because we still die. We do not have actualized eternal life.

But because Christ is described as the “first fruit” (ἀπαρχὴ) of the resurrection, those who die before Christ’s return will be resurrected to eternal life, to witness the final death of Death—the enemy that took their mortal body and killed it. Our resurrection, then, is our vindication, and thus we stand and watch as all of God’s enemies are destroyed and utterly removed from all creation.

There is no room for Death in God’s kingdom. God cannot have any enemies when God is “all in all” (v.28).

So where does this leave us?

Without the resurrection of Jesus, we don’t have a new testament. Without the resurrection of Christ, we will all die and turn into nothingness, never to be found again. Without the resurrection of Christ, we might as well live our lives as heathens, unbound by Law or Covenant, because there is nothing for us.

But, brothers and sisters, Christ IS risen. So how do we live?

We are “waiting for the redemption/reconciliation/liberation of our bodies” in Romans 8:23 (ἀπεκδεχόμενοι τὴν ἀπολύτρωσιν τοῦ σώματος ἡμῶν), and we can now live as brothers and sisters, destined for eternal life, knowing that all the terrorism, sexism, racism, violence, and oppression in the world will ultimately be expunged from God’s creation, and that our bodies are precious to God. We hope for the future, based on this little baby, born of a virgin. We confess that great ancient creed:

We believe in one Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church.

We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins (they were good Baptists!)

We look for the resurrection of the death and the life of the world to come.

Amen.

Live into the hope of your resurrection, be a witness to those who desperately need the good news of Christ’s ultimate triumph over death, and never forget what the Angel Gabriel said to the blessed Mary in Luke 1:

“Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”

Advent, then, is about hope and confidence and the solution. The solution to the problem of Sin and Death is the resurrection of the Son of God. Thus, we can see the problem all along, and our hope can thus be reoriented towards the resurrected Christ, in whom we live.

Christ’s kingdom will have no end, and our hope, as the community of God, is to remember, to cherish, and to act accordingly with our future resurrection into eternal life. We do not live in fear, but rather we empower others to live into Christ. The evening news is not the last word. May we bless God and one another with these words.

Thank you.

Prodigals and Parables: A (Short) Analysis of Luke 15:11-32

This is short, and I was not allowed to consult commentaries. One thousand words for the win.

The story of the prodigal son is a staple in my evangelical story. People referenced it constantly when I returned to the faith, and I read it that way for a long time: until now. Reading this text within its canonical context and co-text has pushed me to reflect on the nature of the overall narrative in relation to the first-century readers.

Within the larger context of ch14-15, our text sits comfortably after 15:1-7 and 15:8-10, and both sections refer to lost items (coin, sheep). Both pieces are significant as they are parables, but the subject of the younger son in the third unit (v.11-32) indicates that we’ve progressed beyond items into personhood. 14:1 tells us that Jesus “was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the Sabbath.” It seems that the entirety of 15:11-32 can be aspectivally located within 14:1. All of these stories are being told over a meal, where social privilege is evident (14:7) and situated within that specific residence. Jesus’ address to his host (14:12) indicates that there were no poor at this event (14:13-14), thus indicating a social hierarchy. Crowds, having followed Jesus (14:25), are outside. The meal within the dwelling of the Pharisee illustrates that some were open to Jesus.

15:1-2 indicate that the tax collectors, sinners, Pharisees, and scribes were all near Jesus, placing implicit mixed social, political and religious pressure. Themes of eschatological reversal play quite heavily here as Jesus emphasizes the ones who would be discarded (15:3-7), and the one who seeks them out. Each parable has an audience of the haves and the have-nots, with the focus on reversal and repentance. Now, Jesus can launch into the parable of the prodigal son, which concerns each listener at this meal.

The story begins (v.11) with a father and his two sons. The younger demands his share of the father’s property. Is it implied that the older son is given his dowry as well (“… he divided his property between them”, v.12)? After leaving for a distant land, the younger son lost everything; the adverb ἀσώτως is used here and only here in the New Testament to describe his life (which is the present active participle ζῶν). BDAG 148 defines ἀσώτως as “wastefully, prodigally.”

The younger son goes to a foreign land (v.14). Perhaps this is rhetorical irony by Jesus, as the one with excess is caught in a land that is now barren; the younger son (Joseph from Genesis 37-50) is not in Kansas anymore. In v.15-16, the younger son’s duty is to feed the owner’s pigs, which are seen as “unclean” animals in Leviticus 11:7-8. There is nothing there for the younger son to “fill himself”; the verb “γεμίζω” indicates a perverse reversal of being “filled.”

V.17-19 tells of the plot point concerning the younger son’s return to his father. He remembers his former status as a well-fed younger son. The people outside the Pharisees’ house identify with this son at this point, as they are perhaps hungry outsiders. The younger son remembers his father’s wealth and how even hired workers had enough bread to eat (v.17). Staple foods like bread are gold in light of starvation. Simply, the younger son wants nothing more than to be a hired hand, a keeping of his current status.

In v.20, the father sees him from far off, indicating that he was looking for him, and knew where he would come from. The father was filled with compassion, and he runs out to him and weeps. A possible intertext for this passage may be Gen. 45:14, where Joseph weeps with his brothers after a long time apart because of horrific actions on the part of his brothers. Here, the roles are reversed: the older embraces the younger this time.

Despite this display, the son blurts out his failures. How often do we still feel the need to remind those who forgive us that we still sinned? The father ignores this and has the slaves (δούλους, not μισθίων); this change may emphasize the status of the slaves in the younger son’s stead. The father does not have his son’s body washed, and instead places rings and robes on him (v.22); a father’s happiness covers a multitude of customs. V.23-24 utilizes the fatted calf, showing us that a grand feast is to commence (a reference to Lev. 9:3 as a “burnt offering?”). What makes this interesting is that the imagery of fresh meat is not lost upon those who are outside and hungry during the telling of this parable. When the older son hears this celebration one can imagine his annoyance at not being invited. Indicating the possible shift of social status regarding “δούλους” and “μισθίων” in v.22, here in v.26 the older son asks the “παίδων” (child, servant) about the celebration.

We are not told the father’s words when he emerges from the celebration, but the response from the older son reveals that he views himself as a “δουλεύω” (one who slaves) to his father, thus viewing himself lower than the “παίδων.” The father is shocked, as he believes “all” (πάντα) that he has belongs to his older son. This reveals the selfishness of the older son: his status was never under dispute, and was never at odds with the father’s character and love for his younger son. Thus, when someone lost repents (v.32), we celebrate and rejoice.

The fact that the older brother—now likely representing a Pharisee who is already a part of the kingdom—reacts negatively when the dirty and repentant return to the family of God reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of what it means to be a part of God’s kingdom. This is all over a meal, an intimate setting. Pharisees are already included in God’s kingdom, but to some of their chagrin, so are the outsiders who repent and return. 

NQ

Drinking From The Deep Creedal Wells: Nicaea, Christology, and Salvation-History

This is intended as a reflection on the Creeds in Relation to New Testament Christology and the Christian Life

In reflecting upon this past quarter, one is hard pressed to consider a topic more pressing and pertinent than Christology. The topics of the virgin birth, subordinationism, and Christ’ sinlessness—or inability to sin—are persistently being debated in academic institutions and seminaries, with little end in sight. Often the relationship between theoretical dogma and ordinary life is overlooked, as the academic world and pastoral ministry can be seen as at odds with each other. However, in light of the Christian existence and the need to actually live a life based upon Scripture, one then needs to know the Scriptural reciprocity Scripture and the Creeds. The goal of this paper is to reflect upon the nature and witness of the Creeds for New Testament Christology, and the implications for daily life in the Church.

The Creeds of Nicaea (325AD) and Nicene-Constantinopolitan (381AD) are considered a vital part of the Church’s historical testimony. I confess that I had never read either Creed in its entirety until this past quarter, so perusing the ancient literature provided a theological jolt that would press anyone into more serious study. Thus, there are three crucial issues one may find within the Creeds that present Christian theology with some measure of doctrinal preeminence.

First, the Creeds have centralized key doctrinal issues that most consider to be top tier. For example, Christ’s equality with God the Father, his preexistence, virgin birth, death, and resurrection. Second tier subjects such as church government, differing views on eschatology (eternal conscious punishment or annihilationism), and even the inerrancy of Scripture are not present in any of the early Creeds—although baptism appears quite prominently as a feature as the universal church favors “one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.” This of course does not mean the aforementioned doctrines are not important doctrines—far from it! —But rather the early church did not view them in an ‘essentialist’ manner. Christology was—and is—more important than Christian views of church and government. So, in a way, this Creedal first order has helped provide an essential result of the basics of Christian orthodoxy, confirmed by Paul (1 Cor. 15:1-4 and passim) as Christ’s bodily resurrection from the dead.

Second, the Creeds have really teased out a lot of the theological themes in the New Testament. A classic example is the doctrine of the Trinity. Nowhere in the New Testament—disregarding the textual interpolation in 1 John 5:7-8—is the doctrine of the Trinity clearly and systematically laid out in a manner that would provide unequivocal support. However, given the data regarding Jesus’ divinity (John 5:18; 10:30), some form of his preexistence (1 Cor. 10:4; Col. 1:15-20), his equality with God (Phil. 2:6-7), and his possibly being called God (θεὸς in Rom. 9:5; c.f. Titus 2:13 if by Paul) all offer some strong possible glimpses of the relationship within the Godhead, or as Richard Bauckham says, “the divine identity.” The inclusion of Christ and the Holy Spirit in the Great Commission in Matthew 28:19-20 is a classic example of an early proto-Trinitarian doxology (c.f. 1 Cor. 12:4-6). Christ is also spoken about in the same way as YHWH, where 2 Thess. 1:8-9 speaks of “the Lord Jesus from Heaven” (τοῦ κυρίου Ἰησοῦ ἀπ᾿ οὐρανοῦ) in the same way YHWH is spoken of in the Old Testament (c.f. Isaiah 66:15-16), bringing judgment upon the oppressors of the church. This all seems to culminate in our fulfilled affirmation of Christ:

“And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all things, Light of Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one substance/being with the Father.”

This teasing of doctrine out of the New Testament is helpful, insofar as it finds common threads among the diverse authors of Scripture and manages to intertwine them in an embroidery—an embroidery that illustrates the beauty of Scripture as she dances throughout history, leaving footprints in the sands of time for us to follow.

Third and finally, the Creeds place a definitive capstone on the salvation-history narrative that Scripture seems to point towards. They tell the story of the preexistence and consubstantial Son who was sent into the world “who for us [humans], and for our salvation, came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary, and was made [human].” In a world driven by personal and corporate narrative and the accumulation of particular experiences, this salvation story offers humanity a glimpse into the divine reality. This narrative categorically rejects other competing narratives, such as sexual, racial, and economic exploitation in favor of a life of humbleness and service. It tells a story of God waging a war against the forces of evil and death, being subjected to these forces in a state of humiliation, and rising in triumph over the grave. It assumes the unity of the holy Catholic Church (Eastern, Roman, Protestant), and where we place our hope: in the resurrection of the dead and in the life of the world to come. It is to stand with the Prophets of old who denounce injustice and corruption, whether secular or religious. It presents to us an ecologically minded framework for the care of the earth, as this earth was given by God the Father through Christ (1 Cor. 8:4-6), and thus demands our care as viceroys, as caretakers. It confirms the unique humanity of both male and female, as Christ died for “us humans” (ἀνθρώπους) and was made human for us (ἐνανθρωπήσαντα), that neither male nor female are excluded from the drama of redemption.

This new creation under the reign of the eternal Godhead will have no end. Thus, fear is no longer a necessity, but a memorial. Our salvation narrative ultimately trusts in the final defeat, abolition, and annihilation of evil and death. It proclaims hope for the dearly departed in Christ, and requires our action within this very page-turning narrative. It is a call for holy living ‘in Christ’ where we place ourselves within his paradigm and partake in his church. Ours is a pursuit of theosis, a dance towards the divine, nearing a place where the streets have no name. It is the rejection of darkness and an assumption of never ending light (Rev. 21:25), where God dwells with mortals (Rev. 21:3).

The richness of the Christian tradition is indeed a comfort for many, offering to us chances of reflection and refinement as we seek to offer our faith in an increasingly unique and challenging world. The Creeds offer us a chance to offer a concise look at this faith, with its potential and implications for the future. It demands allegiance in a military manner, and confirms our trust in the working out of our lives with fear and trembling. It calls us to think of the future as an approaching reality, not as a distant unattainable goal. Our τέλος requires working towards this now. This is why we exhort people to now be reconciled to God (2 Cor. 5), and why we proclaim his coming—where he is both Judge and King. 

The Creeds thus are relevant, necessary, and vital to the Christian understanding of God and our understanding of how we relate to the world. 

NQ

Resurrection as Liberation (Rom. 8:23)

τὴν ἀπολύτρωσιν τοῦ σώματος ἡμῶν.

“…the liberation of our bodies.” Romans 8:23b.

All of creation has been groaning under the bondage of slavery and the forces of death. In some sense, human beings are tied to this. A certain echo can be found in Exodus, where Israel was under the oppression of a foreign power.

Paul seems to press this into something more unique, as we await the “ransom” or “liberation” of our bodies. The genitive use indicates that this ransom is not “from” or “out of” our bodies, but rather ransoming’ of our bodies.

The flesh (that is, the entirety of the human person) is ransomed, likely from death.

The reference to the “απαρχηε” (first fruits) is likely in line with Paul’s view of resurrection, with Christ as the “απαρχηε” of the resurrection (1 Cor. 15:20-28). In that context, Death is seen as task-master, and death-dealer, as king or as one who reigns over (ἀλλὰ ἐβασίλευσεν ὁ θάνατος). The personification of θάνατος (with an article) likely indicates that Paul viewed Death as an impersonal yet ‘living’ force, something that had the ability to dominate or control. Yet, through the resurrection of Christ, θάνατος has no power over those who attach themselves to Christ. In this sense, we are liberated from the oppression of death. In the same way as Israel was oppressed by Egypt, Assyria and Babylon, so did God ransom them from said oppression.

Yet this is uniquely personal. It affects a corporate group of those in Christ, and yet it affects their bodies as well. It is the setting free of something from something.

The writer also indicates that Christ is a ransom in 1 Timothy 2:6 “αντιλυτρον,” though death is not within the immediate context and it is not certain what we are ‘ransomed’ from. Perhaps the “kings and those in authority” in v2. See also the ransoming of Titus 2:14 (λυτρώσηται), the purification of the people of God.

The adoption of us is the salvation of a people from death, from oppression. The body, both individually and corporately, is healed and restored. Resurrection, then, is liberation.

Just some thoughts.

NQ

Christ the One and Only, A Review

In thinking about world religions, one is forced to recognize the tensions inherent in confessing a particularistic faith in the marketplace of ideas. This tension is especially true for many in western evangelicalism, and the current work—edited by Sung Wook Chung—is an attempt to grapple with the uniqueness of Christ in a pluralistic milieu. Since the thesis of this work is to illustrate Christ’s uniqueness in relation to world religions (x-xi), the essays that most illustrate this thesis will be reviewed.

Elias Dantas offers the initial essay entitled “The Incarnation of Christ and its Implications to the Ministry and Mission of the Church” where the topic under consideration concerns the incarnation and its implications for our modern world. Dantas rightly stresses the importance of this doctrine and is correct to place so much emphasis upon the virgin birth: it is, after all, a part of the historic Christian faith. He then goes on to offer seven assessments, each one indeed dire and problematic—though some more than others. For example, he asserts that the denial of the virgin birth leads to the denial of all miracles and into liberalism (4), and this does not follow. One could affirm the mythic nature of Christ’s birth and passionately affirm the historical resurrection of Jesus Christ (c.f. Pannenberg, Jesus—God and Man, 141-150). One would be hard pressed to place someone like Pannenberg in the liberal category on par with one who denies miracles! While Dantas’ passion is well placed and his emphasis is certainly noteworthy, he is quick to castigate those with whom he disagrees and he seems most interested in reflecting a highly dogmatic point of view instead of the intended ecumenical nature of the project as a whole—especially when he quotes almost exclusively male and Reformed voices.

Clark Pinnock takes us next through “The Uniqueness of the Life and Teachings of Jesus” and by means of introduction, he points to a gap in the Apostle’s Creed where there is nothing said about the life of the Messiah. Intending to fill this gap, Pinnock surveys the various controversies in the Gospels surrounding Christ’s birth, charges of illegitimacy, ministry, place in society and some of his theological contributions. Pinnock tells us that Jesus uniquely emphasized the Kingdom of God and coupled this with his emphasis on justice, on “a God who gives priority to the ethical above the cultic” (30). Pinnock offers us a compelling glimpse into the mystery of Christ as he related to a world that was both ‘other’ and ‘one another.’ This Jesus “embodied what he had announced” (33) and thus his life was unique compared to the religious leaders of his day.

Beginning with the historical context of Scripture, Graham Tomlin surveys Scripture’s early reflections on the meaning of Christ’s death on the cross and especially St. Paul and Corinthians. The uniqueness of the cross is not in the manner of death, but in how the early Christians applied meaning to the death of the Messiah, which makes the meaning of Jesus’ death significant and confounding. Much of Tomlin’s essay centers on Luther and Blaise Pascal (who is a surprising addition). He places Pascal alongside St. Paul and shows how both of these theologians had to react to the various worldviews of their day, and this is applicable to the modern Church, as she must grapple with the question of those not in Christ and those who seek a more pluralistic inclusion of other religions. The final simple comparison between Muhammad and Jesus is compelling: “both knew the struggle of being a persecuted and misunderstood prophet…” (61), and yet Jesus chose the path of nonresistance, making him distinct from Muhammad—thus the similarities seem to end where Golgotha begins. Tomlin’s historical assessments are certainly helpful and necessary, but one is left wondering where the ancient church fathers and mothers fit into his framework, as he jumps from Paul over them straight to Luther.

All of Christian orthodoxy depends upon the resurrection of Jesus. So contends Gabriel Fackre, and his essay is intended as a grand theological narrative sweep across the entirety of Scripture. Those who share a love of storytelling and cinema will be delighted by this unique structure. He starts with the stories of creation and fall, moves through the patriarchs of the Old Testament, and lands upon Jesus of Nazareth, who is the intersection of history. What makes Fackre’s contribution unique is the structure he utilizes, namely the great themes of systematic theology: creation, incarnation, and the last things to name a few. This is not unlike the structure of a film: acts one through three, culminating in the grand finale of the last things. Those familiar with these grand topics will not doubt enjoy the novel arrangement and Fackre’s presentation, though he breaks no new theological ground and does not quite address the central topic of Christ’s uniqueness in resurrection. For instance, resurrection was not an uncommon belief in the world of Jesus, and exploring ancient concepts such as reincarnation and karma could have helped explore this needed issue.

The sensitive topic of Jewish/Christian relations is the subject of Ellen Charry’s work and her words are hard-hitting and frustrating. For instance, “Paul had to pervert scriptural texts” (148) in his attempt to bring the Gentiles into Christ. This is frustrating because the scholarly debate between Paul and his Jewish background is extraordinarily complex from a historical point of view and Charry shows little awareness of the complexities of this. To describe Paul’s interpretiv

e methods in terms of ‘perversion’ is unfortunately distracting. Paul’s method of interpretation, though idiosyncratic, does not seem to be far from the Jewish mainstream (c.f. Richard B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul). Paul is certainly not above criticism, however well deserved, but Charry’s essay often takes the form of harsh criticism of Christianity, and the tone and rhetoric are indeed a shock compared to the rest of the volume. While one cannot ignore the one problem of Jewish/Christian relations, Charry answers the ‘uniqueness of Christ’ question in purely negative terms (i.e. Christians aren’t Jews) and appears to interpret Paul in the least attractive light possible. She does not mention the recent proposals of the New Perspective and their works could help alleviate some apprehension regarding Christianity and Judaism, especially as regards the law. The work of James D.G. Dunn could have been of further assistance but no NPP proponent is considered. A further problem is that Charry cites few historical sources to bolster many of her historical claims, most of which are not substantiated or annotated. In short, this essay is more polemic than is necessary, making it stand out negatively in comparison to the other essays.

The spread of Islam in the modern world demands an essay like Ng Kam Weng’s. He highlights the similar views of Jesus found both in Islam and Christianity (i.e. both view Jesus as a prophet), and surveys the vast data found in the Quran regarding Jesus and his role in history: while Jesus is important, he is thoroughly subordinate in Muhammad (196), pushing Jesus away from such high Christology texts such as John 1:1 and 14. No prophet is ever said to be “in the form of God” (c.f. Phil. 2:6) and one wonders where the writings of Paul fit into Islam’s conception of Christ’s identity with the Father. The singular strength of this chapter is Weng’s charity towards the faith of Islam.

KK Yeo’s essay is remarkable in its tackling of the theme love as a means to connect Confucius (ren) and Paul (agape). Concise, intimate and genuine, Yeo’s work is a breathe of sincere ecumenical air. While an evangelical, he is dedicated to teaching the “law of Christ” as mutual bearing of one another’s burdens, seizing upon Galatians 6:2 (though more could be mentioned, c.f. Eph. 5:2, 21). Love is a term that has gone largely untouched in this volume and Yeo states unequivocally that “to be human is to be bound to God” (218), pushing both concepts together in a way that does not minimize the differences. What makes this applicable is that Yeo concludes on the practicality of his findings, finding that the love of neighbor is a key ethical grounding.

The editor Sung Wook Chung has the final word, and he further presses the “points of contact” (233) between Buddhism and Christianity. After discussing their differences—the doctrine of creation, where Christians affirm an actual creation, whereas Buddhism affirms an eternal universe—Chung points to four main similarities, with one of them being suffering. This is a key Christian concept as well, as the suffering of Christ on the cross will attest, and this has practical implications. Suffering is an unfortunate reality in our world and thus both faiths are in some sense yoked together in this reality. This finds its application in that we seek the similarities among one another, and do this in love and reverence for Christ.

In summation, Pinnock, Sung Wook Chung, and Yeo offer essays that sparkle with verve, creativity, and clarity. However, there is no engagement with patristic sources and liberation or feminist theologies, thus the uniqueness of Christ is not fully explored from an ecumenical perspective. It rightly affirms the uniqueness of Christ yet does not fully exhibit a consistent ecumenical spirit in part because of unnecessarily polemic arguments (Dantas/Charry). The volume also lacks a Scripture and subject index, making navigation difficult. Ultimately, although the volume has some marvelous essays, it contains too many caveats for a whole-hearted endorsement.

NQ

John Locke & Eternal Punishment

Locke made it known that many considered the doctrine of eternal torment to be of “little consistent with the justice or goodness of the great and infinite God…thereby doing violence to the whole tenour of the New Testament.”[1] Far from post-modernism and the emergent movement, Locke nevertheless considered such the doctrine of eternal torment to be inconsistent with justice and goodness of God. This should not be dismissed as sentimentalism, but rather an acute awareness of the world around him and possibly reflects the heart of a man who had the potential for being a powerful preacher. One wonders to what extent his influence would’ve increased or decreased had he chosen to pursue the clergy. Locke says, “this [mortality] is so clear in these cited places, and so much the current of the New Testament, that nobody can deny, but that the doctrine of the gospel is, that death came on all men by Adam’s sin; only they differ about the signification of the word death: for some will have it to be a state of guilt, wherein not only [Adam], but all his posterity was so involved, that every one descended of him deserves endless torment, in hell-fire.”[2] The debate about ‘death’ and ‘immortality’ has apparently been raging since Locke’s day, and modern annihilationists may rest in comfort that we may indeed continue to be misunderstood as Locke was.[3]

Locke continues, “I shall say nothing more here, how far, in the apprehensions of men, this consists with the justice and goodness of God, having mentioned it above: but it seems a strange way of understanding a law, which requires the plainest and directest words, that by death should be meant eternal life in misery. Could anyone be supposed, by a law, that says, “For felony thou shalt die,” not that he should lose his life; but be kept alive in perpetual, exquisite torments? And would anyone think himself fairly dealt with, that was so used?”[4] While one may simply and silently concur with such an acute observation, there are arguments made against Locke and he takes it upon himself to clarify his remarks. 

The rejoinder deserves to be quoted in full: 

“To this, they would have it be also a state of necessary sinning, and provoking God in every action that men do: a yet harder sense of the word death than the other. God says, that “in the day that thou eatest of the forbidden fruit, thou shalt die;” i. e. thou and thy posterity shall be, ever after, incapable of doing any thing, but what shall be sinful and provoking to me and shall justly deserve my wrath and indignation. Could a worthy man be supposed to put such terms upon the obedience of his subjects? Much less can the righteous God be supposed, as a punishment of one sin, wherewith he is displeased, to put man under the necessity of sinning continually, and so multiplying the provocation. The reason of this strange interpretation, we shall perhaps find, in some mistaken places of the New Testament. I must confess, by death here, I can understand nothing but a ceasing to be, the losing of all actions of life and sense. Such a death came on Adam, and all his posterity, by his first disobedience in paradise; under which death they should have lain for ever, had it not been for the redemption by Jesus Christ. If by death, threatened to Adam, were meant the corruption of human nature in his posterity, ’tis strange, that the New Testament should not any-where take notice of it, and tell us, that corruption seized on all, because of Adam’s transgression, as well as it tells us so of death. But, as I remember, every one’s sin is charged upon himself only.”[5]  

Locke even takes up the challenge of the issue of the unevangelized, offering several thoughts. One being the promise of God to Israel, to persuade people to embrace what was revealed to them.[6] The more interesting is that Locke didn’t believe that all men had to have perfect doctrine, suggesting, “I desire those who tell us, that God will not (nay, some go so far as to say, cannot) accept any, who do not believe every article of their particular creeds and systems, to consider, why God, out of his infinite mercy, cannot as well justify men now, for believing Jesus of Nazareth to be the promised Messiah, the King and Deliverer.”[7] While he was not a systematic theologian[8], he was acutely aware that each idea was built upon each other. To remove one isn’t to devolve the other argument; each argument is independent, but yet related to the other argument. Therefore, Locke’s views were reciprocal with each other, never exclusive. Immortality and resurrection are married, and this appears in the shadow of the eschatological cross.

NQ

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[1] The Reasonableness of Christianity, 8.

[2] Ibid, 9

[3] Modern Annihilationists may also take comfort in the knowledge that with an advocate as articulate as Locke, he was surely not alone in expressing his views.

[4] The Reasonableness of Christianity, 9.

[5] Ibid, 9.

[6] The Reasonableness of Christianity, 81. Locke appears to embrace a view of ‘limited’ knowledge for those who haven’t heard. To believe in a little, or what has been revealed to them, is enough for God. God doesn’t expect more than what he has given.

[7] Ibid,  81.

[8] Similarly, some scholars and theologians have claimed that Paul wasn’t a systematic theologian either. C.f. E.P. Sanders, Paul. This does not diminish the brilliance of Paul and John Locke; it merely showcases that perhaps they were closer aligned than many have assumed.

John Locke on Body, Soul and Conditional Immortality

In a rather scintillating comment, Locke explains his dislike of the philosophies that had impugned Christianity. For instance, he writes “in the ages wherein Platonism prevailed, the converts to Christianity of that school, on all occasions, interpreted holy writ according to the notions they had imbibed from that philosophy.”[1] What is surprising about this is that many theologians during this time accepted the belief in body soul dualism, though this would not go unchallenged from all sides. Though dualism is prevalent in evangelical circles–not to mention some secular[2]–to this day, various modern biblical scholars and philosophers are rejecting dualism.[3] Where Locke agrees with modern day scholars is that “those who are possessed with the doctrine of aerial and aethereal vehicles [or what we would call the soul], have thence borrowed an interpretation of the first four verses of 2 Cor. V without having done any ground to think that St. Paul had the least notion of any such vehicle.”[4] Frankly, for Locke, he wants to know what Paul thought, not what people put in Paul’s mind and mouth. This will be revealed in his notes regarding what he believes St. Paul intended.

2 Corinthians 5:1-10. This text is often considered the vanguard of dualism in Scripture. Locke notes, with some giddiness, the Jewish background of Paul by proclaiming in a footnote on 4:17: “What an influence St. Paul’s Hebrew had, upon his Greek, is everywhere visible: [the word] in Hebrew, signifies “to be heavy,” and “to be glorious;” St. Paul, in the Greek, joins them, and says, “the weight of glory.”[5] What this indicates is that Locke knew of Paul’s Jewish background, and this is a clever notation, designed to showcase continuity between the Old and New Testament. While there are many additional factors that modern scholars argue about within this passage[6], Locke instead pushes, first, the necessity of the approaching of Christ’s parousia. Locke notes, “the apostle looked on the coming of Christ, as not far off, appears, by what he says, 1 Thess. 4:13.”[7] The resurrection has resulted in a ticking clock. Thus, while Locke doesn’t use the phrase ‘now and not-yet’ he certainly is of a similar state of mind in reading Paul’s words. Second, the emphasis on the pain and groaning of the body (v2, 4) reveals the physicality of the present body and “by putting off this mortal, earthly body”[8] can Locke then get to his third point. Third, “we are not, therefore, willing to be put off, but had rather, with out dying, have it changed.”[9] Locke’s explanation of ‘changed’ includes changing “into a celestial, immortal body”[10] but also is noteworthy that he believes that only those “who have the Spirit of Christ” shall be raised with this ‘celestial, immortal body.’ He builds off 1 Corinthians 15, but states what he believes the ‘nakedness’ of v3 to be: “the state of the dead, unclothed with immortal bodies, until the resurrection.”[11] The acknowledgment of judgment at the end of days showcases the eschatological and the ‘now and not-yet’ of Locke’s thoughts on this passage. For Locke, it is difficult to speak of human anthropology without discussing immortality and death. Thus, for the sake of space, I will condense immortality and death into the same discussion, as Locke seems to link them together in such a way anyway. 

Here, we examine his thoughts on the rest of Scripture.

From the beginning, Locke stresses that “what Adam fell from…was the state of perfect obedience…and by this fall he lost paradise, wherein was tranquility and the tree of life; i.e. he lost bliss and immortality.”[12] For Locke, everything begins with Adam’s fall, and Adam’s being “shut out forever from [the tree of life], lest he should take thereof, and life forever.”30 Paradise is coupled with immortality, “of life without end.”[13] This is remarkably similar to the modern lexical definition of “immortality”[14] and reflects Locke’s training in Greek. “[Adam’s] life began from thence to shorten, and waste, and to have an end; and from thence to his actual death, was but like the time of a prisoner, between the sentence passed, and the execution, which was in view and certain.”[15] From this fall from immortality, Locke confirms the nature of immortality, as it lacked “drudgery, and [was] without sorrow.”[16] Because of Adam’s sin, “all his posterity born out of it, the consequence of it was, that all men should die, and remain under death forever, and so be utterly lost.”[17] There is no natural immortality given to human beings; we share the fate of Adam, namely death. Locke further paraphrases that God is “incomprehensible, majestic, eternal and incorruptible”[18] as opposed to man preferring to worship “the images of corruptible men, birds, beasts, and insects.”[19] Locke further mentions that because of this, death entered the world, alluding to two key texts: Romans 5:12 and 1 Corinthians 15:22, stating, “By reason of [Adam’s] transgression, all men are mortal, and come to die.”[20] Locke did not concede the argument that exclusion entailed a conscious, miserable existence away from God. By no means; instead he argued the opposite, “the wages of sin should be to every man, as it was to Adam, an exclusion of him out to that happy state of immortality, and bring death upon him.”[21] Exclusion entails the loss of immortality, followed by the natural conclusion of death. 

Appealing to James 1:15[22], Romans 5:12[23] and 6:23[24], Locke argued strongly “no righteous person, no one that is guilty of any breach of the law, should be in paradise.”[25] Within the context of the pursuit of “eternal life” in Romans 2:7, he unpacks the logic of Paul’s verse of what God will give to the righteous: “eternal life to all those who by patience and gentleness in well-doing seek glory and honour, and a state of immortality.”[26] All others who forsake such righteousness will be met with retribution. The principle idea in Romans 5:12-19 is “that by Adam’s lapse all men were brought into a state of death, and by Christ’s death all are restored to life. By Christ, also, as many as believe are instated in eternal life.”[27] For this reason, Adam “forfeited immortality, and became thereby mortal.”[28] For Locke, “having sinned” entails the fall into mortality.47 The resurrection of Christ reverses mortality, bringing mankind back to the original source of life: communion with God and each other.[29] Immortality is never said to be given to all men, just to the saints of God.[30] Locke concludes, “immortality and bliss, belong to the righteous; those who have lived in an exact conformity to the law of God, are out of the reach of death; but an exclusion from paradise and loss of immortality is the portion of sinners.”[31] Adam was created immortal, and this entailed that he was in the image of God; “but Adam, transgressing the command given to him by his heavenly Father, incurred the penalty; forfeited that state of immortality, and became mortal.” Simply, Adam was immortal before the action of sin, and this immortality, which included right relationship with the God of the living, was removed. “After this, Adam begot children” but they were “in his own likeness, after his own image,” mortal, like their father.”[32] Thus, those born from the Adamic line are begotten with mortality and cannot naturally live forever. Indeed, that is the curse; that death is the true result of sin. 

Explicitly in his paraphrase of Romans 6:21-23, Locke couldn’t be more forthright with what he believed St. Paul was teaching: “For the end of those things is death, which are done in obedience to sin, is death. But now, being set free from sin, being no longer vassals to that master, but having God now for your lord and master, to whom you are become subjects or vassals, your course of life tends to holiness, and will end in everlasting life. For the wages[33] that sin pays, is death: but that which God’s servants receive, from his bounty, is the gift of eternal life[34], through Jesus Christ our Lord.”[35] Death has a straightforward meaning: to die is to not live. It is to be subject to the natural outworking of life. In this sense, Locke affirmed very strongly universal mortality and the reward of sin as ‘death.’ In some sense, the quotation from Braveheart rings true: “Every man dies, not every man really lives.”

In his finest paraphrase of Paul’s epistles, John Locke presents the magnum opus of the resurrection: 1 Corinthians 15.[36] He concurs with Paul that the fundamental principle is that “In truth, Christ is actually risen from the dead, and become the first fruits[37] of those who were dead. For, since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead, or restoration to life.”[38] The logic for Locke is two-fold: the return of Christ, who has risen; the resurrection of “those, who are his people, his church, and this shall be at his second coming.”[39] According to Locke, Christ “must reign, till he has totally subdued and brought all his enemies into subjection to his kingdom. The last enemy that shall be destroyed, is death.”[40] The emphasis Locke puts on the resurrection is not surprising, given Paul’s passion and Locke’s exegesis: for John, “when death comes, as it shortly will, there is an end for us forever.”[41] Death is the utter end of life, the cessation of personality and existence. By no means is this the end for Christians. Indeed, it is the greatest hope a mortal can have. Locke argues strongly that the resurrection of the dead includes only those in Christ.[42] Indeed, Locke appears skeptical that Paul thought there would even be a resurrection of the lost[43], a doubt I share as well. Immortality is thus within the framework of God’s act in restoring creation. Like Satan falling like lightning, death is banished forever from all of God’s creation. 

NQ

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[1] A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, xx.

[2] A recent example can be found in that 64% of U.S. adults believe in the survival of the soul after death.

http://cnsnews.com/news/article/susan-jones/poll-americans-belief-god-strong-declining

[3] This is just a sampling: Joel B. Green, Body, Soul, and Human Life. E. Earle Ellis, Christ and The Future of the Christian Church, 179-197. Nancey Murphy, Bodies and Souls, or Spirited Bodies? Samuele Bacchiocchi, Immortality or Resurrection? Oscar Cullmann, The Immortality of the Soul or the Resurrection of the Body? Peter van Inwagen and his essay “Dualism and Materialism: Athens and Jerusalem.”

[4] A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, xx.

[5] Ibid, 228 n.17.

[6] Joel B. Green, Body, Soul, and Human Life, 170-172; 175-177. He states, “…Paul’s language is indeed dualistic but not in an anthropological sense. He thinks of an eschatological dualism, contrasting the now

and the not-yet.” 176.

[7] A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 228 n. 3. Locke also points to several other passages:

1 Cor. 1:7; 7:29, 31; 10:11; Rom. 13:11, 12.

[8] Ibid, 228.

[9] Ibid, 229.

[10] Ibid, 229.

[11] Ibid, 229 n. 4.

[12] The Reasonableness of Christianity, 8.

[13] Ibid, 8.

[14] BDAG 155. “Aphtharsia” refers to the state of not being subject to decay,/dissolution/interruption,

incorruptibility, immortality. This word appears several times in 1 Cor. 15. V42, 50, 53.

[15] The Reasonableness of Christianity, 8.

[16] Ibid, 9.

[17] Ibid, 10.

[18] A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 235-6.

[19] Ibid, 235.

[20] The Reasonableness of Christianity, 8.

[21] Ibid, 11.

[22] Ibid, 11. “Sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.” Locke continues with “as it were, by a natural and necessary production. Many modern annihilationists have appealed to this same text, arguing for a non-specialized non-spiritual meaning of ‘death.’ Simply put, Locke appears to concur, suggesting that death is a natural outcome of sin. C.f. Edward William Fudge, The Fire That Consumes 3^rd Edition, 219-221.

[23] Ibid, 11: “Sin entered into the world, and death by sin.”

[24] Ibid, 11: “The wages of sin is death.”

[25] Ibid, 11.

[26] A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 221.

[27] Ibid, 321.

[28] Ibid, 322.

[29] Locke translates “justification and life” in Rom 5:17 as “justification to life.” A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 327.

[30] A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 328: “For eternal life is nowhere, in sacred scripture, mentioned, as the portion of all men, but only of the saints.”

[31] The Reasonableness of Christianity, 11.

[32] Ibid, 66.

[33] Locke’s footnote, A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 340, n23: “The wages of sin,” does not signify here the wages, that are paid for sinning, but the wages, that sin pays.” Locke notes the contrast between ‘wages of sin’ and the ‘gift of God’ as eternal life.

[34] Locke’s footnote, A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 340, n23: “Sin pays death to those, who are its obedient vassals: but God rewards the obedience of those, to whom he is lord and master, by the gift of eternal life. Their utmost endeavours and highest performances can never entitle them to it of right; and so it is to them not wages, but a free gift.”

[35] A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 340.

[36] The amount of sheer space that Locke gives to 1 Corinthians 15 merits its own independent treatment, and I regret not being able to do justice to it’s totality. The footnotes are also extensive, taking up whole pages, and his paraphrase is deep and compelling.

[37] Locke’s footnote, A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 187: “The first fruits were a small part, which was first taken and offered to God, and sanctified the whole mass, which was to follow.”

[38] A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 187.

[39] Ibid, 187.

[40] Ibid, 187-188.

[41] Ibid, 189.

[42] A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 191. First, what is raised (v43) is resurrected in glory, and the wicked aren’t raised in glory. Second, “we” means those who “bear the image of the heavenly Adam.” Third, the dead “in Christ” includes only Christians, as pointed out in 1 Thess. 4:16-17. Fourth, the victory of God over death includes the removal of all wicked from creation.

[43] A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistle of St. Paul, 191 “So that from the 23rd  verse, to the end of the chapter, all that [Paul] says of the resurrection, is a description only of the resurrection of the just, though he calls it here, by the general name of the resurrection of the dead.” Every verse, according to Locke, from v41 onwards, proclaims this.