Scot McKnight on Tom Wright & The Faithfulness of God

Below is Scot McKnight on Tom Wright's new book. Well worth your time. Enjoy.

If you want to hear the “new” perspective in one simple post, this is it. (Question: How does the old perspective read this passage? Hint: personal anthropology is at the forefront, not Jewish history.)

If I were going to pick one passage to make my present point about the Torah, it might well be Galatians 2.15–21. This is all about redefinition, the radical redefinition that can only be captured in the dramatic picture of someone dying and coming up a new person:
Through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with the Messiah. 20I am, however, alive – but it isn’t me any longer, it’s the Messiah who lives in me. And the life I do still live in the flesh, I live within the faithfulness of the son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

Here’s a very important point for the old perspective and one that illustrates the new perspective — the “I” here is not human experience but Paul’s own theology in autobiographical terms:

Paul is not here recounting his own ‘religious experience’ for the sake of it. He is telling the story of what has happened to Israel, the elect people of God – and he is using the rhetorical form of quasi-autobiography, because he will not tell this story in the third person, as though it were someone else’s story, as though he could look on from a distance (or from a height!) and merely describe it with a detached objectivity. It matters of course that this was indeed his own story. No doubt the experience Paul had on the Damascus Road and in the few days immediately afterwards may well have felt as though he was dying and being reborn. But what we have here is not the transcript of ‘experience’, as though he was appealing to that (curiously modern) category for some kind of validation. Peter had ‘experience’ as well; so did Barnabas; so, not least, did James and the people who had come from him in Jerusalem. So, of course, did the Galatians. By itself, ‘experi- ence’ proves nothing. ‘Yes, Paul’, they could have said; ‘That’s what hap- pened to you, but for us it was different.’ No: what mattered, for Paul, was the Messiah, and the meaning of his death and resurrection in relation to the category of the elect people of God (852-853).

--Nick

Mark Driscoll, Pacifism & The Cross of Christ

I have a new policy. I used to write a response post to any post that offended/challenged me, and I would write it immediately. Instead, I am now trying a new tactic. I won't be writing and releasing posts daily that respond to instant current events. mostly because I want a cooler head to prevail. Its an attempt to avoid adding gasoline to an outraged internet firestorm.

So when well-known pastor Mark Driscoll decided to make pacifists angry enough to fight, I figured this was too interesting to ignore. I am not up to date on pacifist exegesis, and the strongest example I can cite that I've fully read is Richard Hay's "The Moral Vision of the New Testament." I found it compelling enough to recommend here, even if I'm still working through my thoughts on the entire topic of non-violence. So I'm a pretty big stranger to this discussion.

Below are several collected comments, written by various New Testament scholars. I will cite Richard Hays at the end to sum up. Pacifism shouldn't be assumed as my outright position. I'm merely collecting data on a debate (within evangelicalism) that I find fascinating and worthy of serious consideration, even though the framing text for Driscoll about Jesus is to be found in the book of Revelation. Personally, the Sermon on the Mount makes it somewhat difficult to see how Jesus restricts the Torah in regards to retaliation (Matthew 5).

But anyway. Each comment should be read by the links below, including Driscoll's:

Mark Driscoll:

One of the defining attributes of God’s coming kingdom is shalom—perfect peace untainted by sin, violence, or bloodshed of any sort. Such a kingdom is only possible if an all-powerful, benevolent Authority vanquishes his enemies. In other words, the Prince of Peace is not a pacifist.

God is the author of life and sovereign over death.

Those who want to portray Jesus as a pansy or a pacifist are prone to be very selective in the parts of the Bible they quote. But the God of the bloody Old Testament is Jesus Christ. When he became a man, he walked the earth as a working-class carpenter. The European, long-haired, dress-wearing, hippie Jesus is a bad myth from a bad artist who mistook Jesus for a community college humanities professor. But if we want to learn all about Jesus we have to read all that the Bible says about him. Here’s how Jesus will appear one day:

"Then I looked, and behold, a white cloud, and seated on the cloud one like a son of man, with a golden crown on his head, and a sharp sickle in his hand. And another angel came out of the temple, calling with a loud voice to him who sat on the cloud, “Put in your sickle, and reap, for the hour to reap has come, for the harvest of the earth is fully ripe.” So he who sat on the cloud swung his sickle across the earth, and the earth was reaped.
Then another angel came out of the temple in heaven, and he too had a sharp sickle. And another angel came out from the altar, the angel who has authority over the fire, and he called with a loud voice to the one who had the sharp sickle, “Put in your sickle and gather the clusters from the vine of the earth, for its grapes are ripe.” So the angel swung his sickle across the earth and gathered the grape harvest of the earth and threw it into the great winepress of the wrath of God. And the winepress was trodden outside the city, and blood flowed from the winepress, as high as a horse’s bridle, for 1,600 stadia" (Rev. 14:14–20).

Today is a season of patience as Jesus Christ waits for people to come to repentance. Jesus is not a pansy or a pacifist; he’s patient. He has a long wick, but the anger of his wrath is burning.

Once the wick is burned up, he is saddling up on a white horse and coming to slaughter his enemies and usher in his kingdom. Blood will flow.

Then there will be peace forever as the Prince of Peace takes his rightful throne. Some of those whose blood will flow as high as the bit in a horse’s mouth for 184 miles will be those who did not repent of their sin but did wrongly teach that Jesus was a pacifist.

Jesus is no one to mess with. 

Scot McKnight ("The King Jesus Gospel" and "Jesus Creed"):

Driscoll has a flat Bible. What is in the OT is the same as the NT is the same as Jesus is the same as Paul is the same as Revelation. It’s a Bible that he believes in a text of propositions, not a Bible with a Story, and because there’s no flow to his reading of the Bible he can choose which texts best fit his moods. So he omits important elements:

1. Why not discuss Matt 5:38-42? [See my new commentary on The Sermon on the Mount.]
2. Why not discuss the “passive” Jesus in the crucifixion scenes?
3. Why not discuss 1 Peter 2 which evokes the image of Jesus as suffering as a model for others absorbing suffering?
4. Why not examine the blood of Revelation and see whose blood it is … it is Christ’s?
5. Why not learn the stories of martyrs who conquered by suffering?
6. Why not look to Dietrich Bonhoeffer — talk about manly faith?

In other words, Driscoll needs a Story and christocentrism shaped by cruciformity to read the Bible well.

Shock talk theology demeans the gospel.

Preston Sprinkle ("Fight: A Christian Case for Non-Violence" and "Erasing Hell"):

I actually really like Mark Driscoll. He’s a former ball player, and so am I. He loves red meat, craft beer, and has no time for diaper wearing pansies behind the pulpit. Mark is a manly man, and since I was recently labeled a “manly pacifist,” I think we have a lot in common. Mark says it like it is. So do I. So let me say it like it is: Mark’s assumption that pacifists are pansies is historically naïve, theologically horrendous, and shows that Mark’s been more influenced by the worldview of those who put Jesus on the cross rather than the One who hung on it. Everything Mark says about violence is eerily close to what Rome said about it 2,000 years ago. Contrary to Rome, Jesus taught that suffering leads to glory, cross-shaped weakness radiates divine power, and loving your enemies showcases the character of the Father (Matthew 5:44-48).

Mark’s selection of passages that talk about violence has been violently ripped from the cruciform flow of the New Testament itself.

Gregory A. Boyd ("Myth of a Christian Nation"):

While the OT allowed for, and even required, retaliation, Jesus commands us to instead love and pray for our enemies. (In Luke 6 he adds “and do good to those who hate you” [vs 27]). Rather than to ever respond to violence with violence, we’re to instead love like the sun shines and like the rain falls – namely, indiscriminately. Whether the person is a friend or life-threatening enemy, we’re to love and bless them. And Jesus makes our willingness to love like this a precondition for being considered a child of our Father in heaven – “that you may be.”  By the standards of Jesus’ teaching, therefore, anyone who obeyed the OT laws requiring violence could not be considered a child of the Father in heaven.

It’s also important we notice that Jesus never qualifies who the “enemies” we’re to love are (nor does Paul in Rom 12:14-21). Indeed, his instruction to love indiscriminately rules out any possible qualifications. What makes Jesus’ teachings even more radical is that any talk about “enemies” to a Jewish audience in first century Palestine would immediate call to mind the Romans – the one’s who unjustly oppressed, abused, and often randomly killed the Jewish people. Jesus’ command to love enemies and to never respond violently to them thus includes the very worst kind of enemies we can imagine: the kind that threaten us, our country, and/or our loved ones. It includes the kind of enemies people naturally feel most “justified” killing, if they need to, in order to protect themselves. But these are precisely the kinds of enemies we’re to always love and never retaliate against.

As radical as this teaching might sound to us, however, I don’t believe it should surprise us that we’re commanded to love this way. For God loved us to the point of death when we “were yet enemies,” (Rom 5:10), and we are commanded to “imitate God” by living in this same kind of love, “just as Christ loved us and gave his life for us” (Eph. 5:1-2).

To sum it all up, in this passage Jesus is doing nothing less than telling us that our willingness to set aside a violent OT law in order to obey his new command to love and refrain from violence toward even the worst kind of life-threatening enemies is a precondition for being considered a child of God. And this, folks, is why I don’t believe Driscoll’s argument about the sixth commandment allowing for some forms of killing is relevant to followers of Jesus.

I am a bit puzzled as to why Driscoll didn’t address any of this material in his attempt to refute the idea that “God is a pacifist.” One might have thought it would be relevant since Driscoll is, after all, a Christian pastor, and he’s addressing a Christian audience.  Instead, to prove that “Jesus is not a pansy or a pacifist” (one wonders if the two are not synonymous for Driscoll), he cites one passage from the book of Revelation (14:14-20). To address this, I will offer some reflections on the nature of this book in my next post, and I’ll then conclude my response in a third post by addressing the specific passage Driscoll cites.

While the OT allowed for, and even required, retaliation, Jesus commands us to instead love and pray for our enemies. (In Luke 6 he adds “and do good to those who hate you” [vs 27]). Rather than to ever respond to violence with violence, we’re to instead love like the sun shines and like the rain falls – namely, indiscriminately. Whether the person is a friend or life-threatening enemy, we’re to love and bless them. And Jesus makes our willingness to love like this a precondition for being considered a child of our Father in heaven – “that you may be.”  By the standards of Jesus’ teaching, therefore, anyone who obeyed the OT laws requiring violence could not be considered a child of the Father in heaven.
It’s also important we notice that Jesus never qualifies who the “enemies” we’re to love are (nor does Paul in Rom 12:14-21). Indeed, his instruction to love indiscriminately rules out any possible qualifications. What makes Jesus’ teachings even more radical is that any talk about “enemies” to a Jewish audience in first century Palestine would immediate call to mind the Romans – the one’s who unjustly oppressed, abused, and often randomly killed the Jewish people. Jesus’ command to love enemies and to never respond violently to them thus includes the very worst kind of enemies we can imagine: the kind that threaten us, our country, and/or our loved ones. It includes the kind of enemies people naturally feel most “justified” killing, if they need to, in order to protect themselves. But these are precisely the kinds of enemies we’re to always love and never retaliate against.
As radical as this teaching might sound to us, however, I don’t believe it should surprise us that we’re commanded to love this way. For God loved us to the point of death when we “were yet enemies,” (Rom 5:10), and we are commanded to “imitate God” by living in this same kind of love, “just as Christ loved us and gave his life for us” (Eph. 5:1-2).
To sum it all up, in this passage Jesus is doing nothing less than telling us that our willingness to set aside a violent OT law in order to obey his new command to love and refrain from violence toward even the worst kind of life-threatening enemies is a precondition for being considered a child of God. And this, folks, is why I don’t believe Driscoll’s argument about the sixth commandment allowing for some forms of killing is relevant to followers of Jesus.

I am a bit puzzled as to why Driscoll didn’t address any of this material in his attempt to refute the idea that “God is a pacifist.” One might have thought it would be relevant since Driscoll is, after all, a Christian pastor, and he’s addressing a Christian audience.  Instead, to prove that “Jesus is not a pansy or a pacifist” (one wonders if the two are not synonymous for Driscoll), he cites one passage from the book of Revelation (14:14-20). To address this, I will offer some reflections on the nature of this book in my next post, and I’ll then conclude my response in a third post by addressing the specific passage Driscoll cites.

- See more at: http://reknew.org/2013/10/responding-to-driscolls-is-god-a-pacifist-part-i/?utm_content=buffer06a2d&utm_source=buffer&utm_medium=twitter&utm_campaign=Buffer#sthash.0viZbXkh.dpuf

Richard B. Hays ("The Moral Vision of the New Testament" p317-346, 344):

If we live in obedience to Jesus' command to renounce violence, the church will become where the sphere of the future of God's righteousness intersects -- and challenges -- the present tense of human existence. The meaning of the New Testament's teaching on violence will become evident only in communities of Jesus' followers who embody the costly way of peace.

While the OT allowed for, and even required, retaliation, Jesus commands us to instead love and pray for our enemies. (In Luke 6 he adds “and do good to those who hate you” [vs 27]). Rather than to ever respond to violence with violence, we’re to instead love like the sun shines and like the rain falls – namely, indiscriminately. Whether the person is a friend or life-threatening enemy, we’re to love and bless them. And Jesus makes our willingness to love like this a precondition for being considered a child of our Father in heaven – “that you may be.”  By the standards of Jesus’ teaching, therefore, anyone who obeyed the OT laws requiring violence could not be considered a child of the Father in heaven.
It’s also important we notice that Jesus never qualifies who the “enemies” we’re to love are (nor does Paul in Rom 12:14-21). Indeed, his instruction to love indiscriminately rules out any possible qualifications. What makes Jesus’ teachings even more radical is that any talk about “enemies” to a Jewish audience in first century Palestine would immediate call to mind the Romans – the one’s who unjustly oppressed, abused, and often randomly killed the Jewish people. Jesus’ command to love enemies and to never respond violently to them thus includes the very worst kind of enemies we can imagine: the kind that threaten us, our country, and/or our loved ones. It includes the kind of enemies people naturally feel most “justified” killing, if they need to, in order to protect themselves. But these are precisely the kinds of enemies we’re to always love and never retaliate against.
As radical as this teaching might sound to us, however, I don’t believe it should surprise us that we’re commanded to love this way. For God loved us to the point of death when we “were yet enemies,” (Rom 5:10), and we are commanded to “imitate God” by living in this same kind of love, “just as Christ loved us and gave his life for us” (Eph. 5:1-2).
To sum it all up, in this passage Jesus is doing nothing less than telling us that our willingness to set aside a violent OT law in order to obey his new command to love and refrain from violence toward even the worst kind of life-threatening enemies is a precondition for being considered a child of God. And this, folks, is why I don’t believe Driscoll’s argument about the sixth commandment allowing for some forms of killing is relevant to followers of Jesus.

I am a bit puzzled as to why Driscoll didn’t address any of this material in his attempt to refute the idea that “God is a pacifist.” One might have thought it would be relevant since Driscoll is, after all, a Christian pastor, and he’s addressing a Christian audience.  Instead, to prove that “Jesus is not a pansy or a pacifist” (one wonders if the two are not synonymous for Driscoll), he cites one passage from the book of Revelation (14:14-20). To address this, I will offer some reflections on the nature of this book in my next post, and I’ll then conclude my response in a third post by addressing the specific passage Driscoll cites.

- See more at: http://reknew.org/2013/10/responding-to-driscolls-is-god-a-pacifist-part-i/?utm_content=buffer06a2d&utm_source=buffer&utm_medium=twitter&utm_campaign=Buffer#sthash.0viZb

McKnight. Sprinkle. Boyd.

--Nick

Jeff Cook, "Could Believing in God Harm Your Soul?

Cook:

Could Believing in God Harm Your Soul?

Throughout Christian history it has been common to judge those who do not believe in God as not simply unwise, but morally suspect. That if a person did not believe in God, this was not simply a cognitive conclusion; it was a mark against that person’s character. Yet I know many men and women who want God to exist, know far more about the philosophical arguments for God-belief than I do, yet fail to embrace theism. Such folks are by all accounts honest and often doing the best with what they have—and this is a puzzle.

Perhaps those of us who wrestle with God belief are actually in the precise place God desires us to be. Perhaps times of non-belief and the experience of God’s absence can have real value. That was my experience (which I chronicle here), it’s the experience of many I care about, and it is common experience in the Bible.

Do you think “believing in God” can be detrimental to faith, God-belief, the soul — as Jeff Cook explains this in the post? Can God-belief diminish desire for God?
 
God’s hiddenness points to the fact that God values our desires more than our beliefs. I have argued over the past month that wanting God to exist is more important than believing in God (here and here), because I hold that pursuits of the heart are more important than rational deductions and one’s ontology. Both are important of course, but I think there are good reasons for seeing reason as secondary. In my own experience, the material that moved me most in reconsidering God belief was all about desire and it came form a French mathematician named Blaise Pascal.

I can hear it now, “What, the wager guy?” If all you know of Pascal is the Wager Argument prepare to have your heart explode. I have placed some of the Pensees below in an order that I find compelling, and because Pascal’s quotes are so good I couldn’t help adding my reflections in brackets to push the argument. I would love to hear your thoughts, particularly from those of you who have trouble believing in God.

I love Jeff's writings and have followed him for the past few months. It is his honesty and passionate search for truth that I value most. I'm looking forward to reviewing his new book. You can finish the rest of this post HERE.

--Nick

McKnight, "Campbell & The New Perspective Revised"

McKnight:

In Mike Bird’s new book, The Apostle Paul, there are four views of Paul: the Reformed view by Tom Schreiner, the Catholic view by L.T. Johnson, the post New Perspective view by Douglas Campbell, and the Jewish view of Mark Nanos. Today’s post will look at Campbell’s piece.

What do you see as the major problems with the traditional reading of Paul? What do you see as the major problems with the New Perspective on Paul? Do you think Campbell’s reading helps us forward?

In essence, and Campbell gets this right when many don’t, the core of the New Perspective is a new view of Judaism and a new view of Paul rooted in that new view of Judaism. The “old” perspective on Paul, it is argued, overcooked Judaism into a works-based religion. This led to religion being man’s attempt to justify himself, and the whole gospel of Paul was read as a response to this fundamental anthropological pride. Hence, we read in folks like Tim Keller of two options: 

performance vs. grace/faith. 

I see this all over, so Keller’s not alone. The New Perspective calls this into question because it argues that “performance” stuff emerges from a view of Judaism and from a Judaism Paul was opposing.

Campbell, however, goes beyond anything being said by the New Perspective, though he agrees completely with its view of Judaism. He thinks the New Perspective explanations of Paul — Dunn, Wright, oddly not really dealing with Sanders — are not good enough and so he revises those explanations. I would say he radically revises.

For the entire review, enjoy it

--Nick

Roman Catholic Theology and Biblical Theology?

I'm really excited for this book now, as Levering engages with Tom Wright and Richard Hays. Should be a nice back and forth. I will be very interested to hear a Catholic view of eschatology, as well as their view of the "descent into hell" as I lean that way anyway.

McKnight:

Matthew Levering, a Catholic theologian at Dayton University, examines Christian eschatology in the Catholic tradition but first asks if that theology is biblical (Jesus and the Demise of Death: Resurrection, Afterlife, and the Fate of the Christian, Baylor, 2012). What we also are treated to in this clear and versatile academic book is direct engagement with Tom Wright’s approach to eschatology, especially in his The Resurrection of the Son of God and Surprised by Hope.

In a sentence, the problem can be put this way: Catholic theology is too Platonic to be biblical or Jewish. This is what Levering will put to the test, but first he wants to know if major doctrines are biblical. Is Scripture, to use the words of the Pope, the “soul of theology” or not?

Questions today: Is Catholic eschatology too Platonic? (How so?) And does the pushback against Platonism in Christian eschatology lead too often to an eschatology that is too horizontal and not vertical enough? Or, is the recent trend in scholars like N.T. Wright not Platonic enough?

For the rest, click HERE.

--Nick

McKnight, "Re/Irresistible Grace"

McKnight:

Roger Olson is right: at the heart of the debate between Calvinism and Arminianism (or non-Calvinism) is this question: Is grace resistible or irresistible? To this end, I will begin a new series Monday (so come back to see what it will be about). But today’s post is Roger’s chp “Yes to Grace: No to Irresistible Grace/Monergism.”

I will put my cards on the table first: I believe those Calvinists who push hard for irresistible or effectual grace sketch a God who coerces and I am convinced, regardless of their contentions, that they effectively (and effectually) deny free will. If grace is irresistible, it is not chosen; if it is irresistible, humans aren’t free to say No to God. If that it is the case, … time to move to Roger’s chp.

Do you think irresistible grace is defensible morally? Does it deny free will for it to be true? If you and I were capable of saving an orphanage full of children who were starving and we chose instead to save only some, would we be called good? [Where does this analogy break down?]

Big one: If grace is resistible, is high Calvinism undermined?

For the rest, click HERE. 

--Nick

Jeff Cook, "C.S. Lewis, Rob Bell & 'Love Wins'"

Nick:

This is something I've been mulling over for a few weeks. I think I agree with most of what Cook says about Bell. I don't see much difference between Bell and Lewis, though there are nuances. Bell seems for more hopeful about God potentially saving all, whereas Lewis had a more pessimistic streak about such things.

McKnight:

This post is by a friend of the Jesus Creed blog; Jeff’s got a strong point to make about Rob Bell’s new book and the seeming culture war at work in the responses. He isn’t suggesting that such a battle is all that is in play, and I’m asking us to give his post a very careful hearing and reading. I’m not enough of a CS Lewis expert to give a definitive answer, though I always have thought the end of The Last Battle went in a universalistic direction. Perhaps we can have some CS Lewis experts speak up today.

 Cook:

Rob Bell, CS Lewis, and the Real Argument at Hand

After a couple of weeks of dialogue it is clear to me that the primary issue in the debate over Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived is not about what Bell is saying, but how he says it.

I suspect many felt poked in the eye by the way Harper and Rob decided to market Love Wins. I suspect Bell intimidates some because he is part of a culture they do not understand and cannot control (that culture is urban, postmodern, and discovers the truth more naturally through questions, sarcasm, and intuition than through the systematic presentations of the top Christian publishing house).

And let’s not kid ourselves, I suspect the fire behind the debate is often about envy and resentment of a very talented man, about our own inability to get a hearing in the public square, and about the fear that new ways of talking about Jesus might trump what some have preached for decades.

These issues are big, but they are not only about doctrine. The issues at hand are about culture and control, about how the theology of emerging Christians will be defined, and about the continuing fight between postmodern and modern expressions of Christianity. This seems clear to me now, for I would like to defend the following claim:

There’s not one controversial idea in Love Wins that is not clearly voiced as a real possibility by the most popular evangelical writer of the last century, CS Lewis. 



Lewis and Bell hint at a number of theological possibilities in their writings that cut against what we might call the majority opinion, including: the possibility that those in hell might journey toward the grace of God after death, the possibility that those who have not heard the name of Jesus might find salvation in and through the image of Christ in their own pagan stories and myths, the possibility that some will eventually receive God’s grace freely after death, the possibility that hell is about bigger things than God’s wrath, the insistence that the metaphors describing what Jesus’ cross accomplishes and how his work is applied to us are culturally subjective, and that some ancient pictures of the atonement may be too confusing to help us right here, right now. All of these lines of thought were in Lewis’s writings before they were in Love Wins.

Let’s look at one example. Though I [Jeff Cook] do not hold the following position (I’m an annihilationist regarding hell), consider how Lewis, like Bell, advances the possibility that those in hell might one day journey toward the grace of God after death. Lewis writes, “I would pay any price to be able to say ‘All will be saved’ but my reason retorts, ‘Without their will, or with it?’” Notice in this and other quotes like it, the salvation of a soul is not dependent on God’s will, but the will of the damned. In the same vein, he wrote, “I believe that if a million chances were likely to do good, they would be given” (The Problem of Pain, 110). This is a confession that God wants to save all and would provide such roads if God thought they’d work.

For the rest, click HERE.

--Nick

McKnight, "When is the Gospel at Stake?"

McKnight:

I’m bouncing off a post that claims too many Christians are Chicken Littles because they run around claiming and worrying and showing their faithfulness by saying the sky is falling down all the time. That is, they think the gospel is at stake in every conversation.

Deny inerrancy? The gospel is at stake. Deny the KJV/ESV, accept the TNIV/NIV? The gospel is at stake. Deny penal substitution? The gospel is at stake. Deny the real presence? The gospel is at stake. Deny the centrality of justification by faith? The gospel is at stake. Deny Athanasius or Augustine or Luther or Calvin or Edwards or Wesley? The gospel is at stake. Enough already.

The gospel is at stake when central themes of the gospel — as defined by the New Testament, that is by Jesus and the apostles — are denied. At the core of the gospel is Jesus as Messiah/King and Lord. The central question of the gospel is Who is Jesus? not What is my theory of salvation?

As I have sketched in The King Jesus Gospel, here are the central themes of the gospel and I will connect this to 1 Corinthians 15:1-28.

For the rest, and McKnight's four points, click HERE.

--Nick

Scot McKnight, "Ten Reasons to Attend Seminary"

Many of you know that I will begin as a faculty member at Northern Seminary, in Lombard IL, this Fall.  I will be teaching Synoptic Gospels, New Testament Theology, Paul, Kingdom of God, and the Ethics of Jesus — and I am very excited about teaching each of these courses. I began my career teaching seminary students, shifted to undergraduates for seventeen years, and now will move into the seminary again. This move has driven me to think and rethink what seminary provides the church, or what the church provides the seminary. Today’s post offers ten reasons for going to seminary, and I know full well that many today both find seminary irrelevant and contend they are “successful” ministers without seminary. I’ve heard not a few of said contenders say that they think seminary would have hurt them. I disagree mostly… and, yes, the MDiv or a seminary degree is the union card or accreditation level for many churches … so here then are ten reasons to attend seminary:

1. Gift enhancement. Seminaries will not “gift” a person but seminaries can almost always enhance the gifts God has given to a person. I have argued for years that seminaries work best when they are populated by ministers and not by folks who think or want, but aren’t sure, if they are gifted or called. What seminaries do well is enhance gifts.

For the rest, click HERE.

--Nick

"How to Talk about the Afterlife; if you must"

A very interesting set of theses. I posted the first one, and there are nine others. I think the dude abides with these. ;)

Ten Theses to Guide Debate on the Afterlife

This post is by D. C. Cramer, who is a PhD student in religion with an emphasis in theological ethics at Baylor University, a pastor in the Missionary Church denomination, and a regular participant in the Jesus Creed community.

The following are some theses—in no particular order—that I believe should help guide discussions of the afterlife, especially those debates currently raging over universalism and hell. These thoughts are purely my own (and even I’m not sure what I think of all of them). By stating these theses, I am not advocating or endorsing any of the views of the afterlife discussed.

Which theses do you (dis)agree with? Why? Are there any theses you would add to this list?

(1) Every view of the afterlife involves some amount of speculation. True, some views might be more speculative than others, but the level of speculation doesn’t necessarily determine the truth of a view. No view, however seemingly speculative, should be dismissed or taken as a given until all arguments—biblical, theological, and philosophical—have been carefully considered.

For the rest, go to McKnight's POST. 

--Nick

Darrin W. Snyder Belousek, "Atonement, Justice & Peace"

I thought this was quite interesting. I love deconstruction. 

Does—or should—atonement theology have practical implications for the church’s mission in the world today?  Is penal substitution the only, or even the best, biblical understanding of the cross? 

Scot has invited me (Darrin W. Snyder Belousek) to introduce my book, Atonement, Justice, and Peace: The Message of the Cross and the Mission of the Church(Eerdmans 2012).  This book challenges the church to rethink the cross—to reexamine the standard evangelical theology of penal substitution atonement and to reorient our thinking about justice and peace from the perspective of the cross. 

My first intuition that something was not quite right with the penal substitution theory—the idea that God has dealt with our sins by having reckoned our sins against Jesus and punished him with death in our place on the cross—came about twelve years ago, while questioning the death penalty. 

I had become convinced, based on Jesus’ teaching (“Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone”), that Christians should not support capital punishment.  But I was wanting to press the question deeper, to the core of Christian faith—the cross.  Jesus’ death, after all, was a death penalty.  If there was a definitive Christian answer on the question, it must be found there. 

The only atonement theology I knew was penal substitution.  I could thus reason: If God had already punished Jesus for our sins, then we who were spared by the cross from the death penalty we deserved had no right to insist that others deserved death for their sins.
That made sense, but it didn’t seem right.  I soon figured out why. 

The penal substitution theory is based on retributive justice: sin must be “repaid” with death, and God “repaid” our sins by punishing Jesus.  But so also is capital punishment: the murderer must be “repaid” his crime with the penalty of death. To affirm penal substitution, therefore, is to affirm the same logic that justifies the death penalty.
I faced two problems.  First, the penal substitution theory couldn’t address the question: you can’t overcome the logic of retribution (capital punishment) with the logic of retribution (penal substitution). 

Second, the penal substitution theory didn’t square with Jesus’ teaching of God’s kingdom, which is not ruled by retribution: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,’ but I say to you…” (Matthew 5).  If the cross is the cross of Christ, I thought, our interpretation of the cross ought to be consistent with the teaching of Jesus.
The more I thought it through, the more the conundrum grew.  

According to Paul’s gospel, Christ’s cross is both the revelation of God’s justice (Romans 3:21-26) and the demonstration of God’s love (Romans 5:6-11).  According to penal substitution, God’s justice is satisfied in retribution, Jesus punished for our sins.  Yet according to Jesus’ teaching, God’s love transcends retribution: He blesses righteous and wicked alike with sun and rain (Matthew 5).  How could the cross be both God’s justice by retribution and God’s love beyond retribution?  Is this God’s love—that God punished Jesus instead of us? That didn’t seem right, either.  I needed to begin again.

For the rest of the post, click HERE.

--Nick

Scot McKnight, "Women Ministering"

Scot McKnight:

"Biblical battles tend to reveal the importance of Scripture in church life. We may not like to admit it, but sometimes it is the Bible (and therefore the church) that loses in our biblical battles. The Bible and the church lose when we fail to read the whole Bible on debatable topics, when we fail to read the Bible as connected to a historical and cultural context, or when we are simply too lazy or worn down by debates to spend the time necessary to truly think through a subject. Many of us tire of old debates, finding it easier simply to give in to the first person who comes along with a sense of conviction in what they believe. We’ve been there, done that, and we often feel as if we have nothing new to offer.

However, we must acknowledge the existence of these debates. We know that Galatians 3:28 tells us that we are all “one” in Christ and that there is “in Christ” neither male and/or female. In our honest moments, we know 1 Timothy 2:12 reads “I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over men; she is to keep silent.” No matter what we’d like the Bible to say, maintaining honesty leads us to at least some tension between these texts. It is because of texts like these, especially when laid side by side on the table of conversation, that there is debate today.

But I think there is firm ground on which we can stand, and it is ground we might too often abandon in order to carry on the debate surrounding controversial texts."

For the rest, click CBE/McKnight.

--Nick

Scot McKnight, "Diverse Spirituality"

McKnight:

What does “spirituality” mean? I find the term altogether slippery since so many use that term for so many different facets of religion and life. Yet, it is a sturdy word when it emerges from careful theological thinking and texts of the Bible — we are “spiritual” Paul says because we no longer of the flesh and the Spirit indwells us. But this simple observation has worked itself out in so many ways, and a recent Counterpoint series book, called Four Views on Christian Spirituality (ed. Bruce Demarest), enters into dialogue between Eastern Orthodoxy, Roman Catholicism, Progressive Christianity, and Evangelical Christianity. I need to add that this sketch commits the usual: it ignores the Anabaptists, and on this topic one you can’t make them a part of any of the groups, including the evangelicals. (I’ll drop this concern now that the point is made.)

How does an Orthodox spirituality vary from your perception of Christian spirituality? What can it contribute to evangelical or mainline spirituality?

The articles are written by my friend and colleague Brad Nassif, Scott Hahn, Joseph Driskill and Evan Howard, editor for an evangelical dictionary on Christian spirituality. Dialogue on this topic is rarely seen since theologians have always preferred doctrines and confessions and creeds and exegesis over how the Christian life/spirituality is understood in each Christian tradition. So this book is a treat … and landmark contribution. We begin today with Brad Nassif’s piece.

1. Orthodox spirituality is gospel spirituality, and here Nassif emphasizes a whole life of Jesus — cross and resurrection. [There's not enough attention on the teachings of Jesus, but neither are they completely absent as they become featured in the life of St. Anthony.] But a major feature of Orthodox gospeling is the Incarnation, and in that term the whole world of Orthodox spirituality opens up. There’s more here: the “life” of Christ involves his eternal perichoretic relation in the Trinity [mutual indwelling in love and self-giving], and all Orthodox spirituality is about entering into that perichoresis.

2. Orthodox spirituality is liturgical and here Brad gives us — in about as short a summary as one can possibly give — a complete introduction to the liturgical life of the Orthodox. (The great Hagia Sophia is pictured above.) It’s about Pascha — Good Friday to Easter. This is all about death to sin and the granting of a new resurrection-based life in Christ.

3. Orthodox spirituality is rooted in the sacraments, but the Orthodox do not believe the sacraments are restricted to seven but that all of created matter can become sacramental as God uses it as a means of grace, from Eucharist and Word and icons to daily life, vocation, and mowing the lawn. The sacraments work synergistically: collaboration between God and human free will in faith and obedience.

4. Orthodox spirituality is grounded ontologically in O/orthodox theology. Here Nassif, a master of the topic, sketches the creeds and the fundamentals of Orthodox theology. Which is either mystical or it is not genuine theology. And it is both cataphatic (knowable) and apophatic (unknowable), leading to the mystery at the heart of all Orthodox theology.

5. Orthodox spirituality is guided by monasticism, and here Brad talks about his beloved St Anthony. There are no secrets; there are no required regimens; genuine Orthodox spirituality is about loving God and loving others and about self-denial, daily, in the grind and not simply the observance of disciplines. There is the theme of silence — hesychasm — in Orthodoxy but Nassif keeps it from taking over. The use of the Jesus Prayer is also briefly discussed.

6. Orthodox spirituality is missional — ideally I say to Brad at times. That is, as the Father gives the Son outwardly, so the church is to be outward focused.

7. Orthodox spirituality aims at deification — and here Brad dips into proper meanings of the term: essentially it is about glorification of the Christian and not about pantheism or becoming divine. It is about entering in union with Christ into the full experience of the Trinity. The indwelling of the Spirit and mystical union … these are the essential features.

What to say? Well, as an Anabaptist (not to ignore a Gospel specialist), I’d like to have seen more emphasis on the teachings of Jesus — how does the Sermon on the Mount, for instance, fare in Orthodox spirituality? What about discipleship as learning from Jesus to follow his teaching and his Lordship? What about Messiahship and kingdom theology? Where is Israel’s Story in Orthodox spirituality?

Jesus Creed/Diversity

--Nick

BARNA, Evangelicals and President Obama

From Barna:

Why do you think an increasing number of evangelicals are supporting President Obama?

April 4, 2012
As the 2012 election campaign approaches phase two – when the major-party candidates have been selected and begin to square off – there is an unmistakable lack of ideological and political unity within the Christian community. A new national survey by the Barna Group among likely voters indicates that there are substantial differences across a wide spectrum of Christian subgroups, with only a one segment unwavering in its commitment to defeat President Obama in November…. 

Christian evangelicals represent about 7% of the adult population and 10% of the likely voter population. (In other words, they are much more likely to turnout on Election Day than are people from most other population groups.) Among evangelicals, Mr. Obama received little fervent support; only 3% to 5% said they would “definitely” vote for him, depending upon his Republican rival. That paled in comparison to the 53% to 58% who said they would “definitely” support a Republican opponent. That margin of intensity was unrivaled across all other religious subgroups. 

Evangelicals were one of just a handful of subgroups among whom support for the Republican candidate did not waiver according to who the Republican nominee is.
In the 2008 election, a Barna Group election study found that evangelicals gave Mr. Obama just 11% of their votes, even though Republican challenger John McCain was generally not appreciated much by the group.  

One of the most striking changes emerging from the new study is that if evangelicals wind up supporting the eventual candidates in November in numbers consistent with their current preferences, Mr. Obama will receive double the support from the evangelical community he garnered four years ago (22%).

Jesus Creed

--Nick

C.S. Lewis and "Mere Purgatory"

Anytime Jerry Walls, Scot McKnight and C.S. Lewis factor into a discussion is a good time waiting to happen.

That’s right, C.S. Lewis seemed to have embraced a view Jerry Walls can accurately call “mere purgatory.” (SeePurgatory: The Logic of Total Transformation) For many the logic looks like this: If C.S. Lewis believed it, and if C.S. Lewis is “mere” evangelicalism, then it is justifiable to believe in purgatory. Make no mistake about this logic: many evangelicals have courage to believe things unacceptable to their peers and congregations because they know Lewis believed something similar.

One more time: Do you believe in purgatory? Do you think transformation will be instantaneous or gradual? Is moral (total) transformation required to participate in God’s heaven?

Lewis, of course, was no saint. And neither was he a proper evangelical as we have come to know that term. Not long ago I was with a man who went to University with Lewis, and that man said to me, “We are all surprised that it is C.S. Lewis who has become the darling of evangelicals.” [By the way, those who have read Bonhoeffer's Ethics or his Letters and Papers from Prison often say the same of Bonhoeffer.]

C.S. Lewis, for instance, prayed for the dead (found in hisLetters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer). The standard view is that the dead are sealed — either glorified or damned. Praying for the dead at least implies something can happen to the dead that could change their status, and so his imagined questioner asks if he is bringing in the idea of Purgatory. Here are the words of C.S. Lewis (Walls has this quote; I am copying this from Letters to Malcolm, p. 108):

Well, I suppose I am. Though even in Heaven some perpetual increase of beatitude, reached by a continually more self-surrender, without the possibility of failure but not perhaps without its own ardours and exertions — for delight also has its severities and steep ascents, as loves know — might be supposed. But I won’t press, or guess, that side for the moment. I believe in Purgatory.

Straight from Lewis’ own mouth: he believed in Purgatory. I have no compulsion to say that because Lewis believed it, it is either OK or evangelical. But it is a bit of an instinct for many of us who think Lewis tapped into the core of the Christian faith in his Mere Christianity to give the man a cupped ear, if not at least a nod.

Walls then sketches how Lewis talked about his deceased wife, Joy, in A Grief Observed, and how he connected her to purgatorial sufferings and cleansings. The view was held by Tolkien, Charles Williams, and Dorothy Sayers. Walls makes a case for seeing Lewis’ purgatory flowing naturally from Lewis’ theology. That is, purgatory is not incidental or casual for Lewis.

Lewis, truth be told, was not evangelical in his atonement theory either. We are in a big hole because we are rebels, and to get out we have to lay down our arms — this is what he means by repentance. But we can’t perfectly repent so, in an Anselmian kind of logic, sees Christ as the perfect penitent (I argued this a bit in Jesus Creed in the chapter on John’s baptism). He substitutes for us in that he surrenders perfectly to God. (Walls observes that Lewis wasn’t into a justification worldview.)

Walls quotes from Lewis, the famous one about there being many people in the world who are slowly becoming non-Christians, and some of them are clergymen; there are also many who are slowly becoming Christians, though they don’t know it. In this Lewis is being a virtue ethicist where character is what makes us fit for heaven: that is, we will find ourselves at home in heaven or find ourselves unable to stomach the place. And a higher level of faith, for Lewis, was when the person, well down the road in his or her journey, comes to the disposition that we are unable and that the person trusts Christ to do it all for them. That is, the person becomes Christlike.

And Christ will finish the job. What complicates it is our freedom. We can push Christ away. But the job will not be — cannot be — completed in this life. Which means it is completed postmortem. Lewis does not teach imputation of Christ’s righteousness; but gracious transformation into Christlikeness. Salvation, for Lewis, was participation in the dance of the Trinity.

Purgatory then is natural to Lewis because salvation is about total transformation, and it requires human reception. It will be finished, that’s a given; but when is the issue. For Lewis, since it isn’t finished here, it will be finished there. Ergo, purgatory is an entailment of salvation as transformation.

For Lewis, purgatory is about sanctification/purification (not retribution); it entails the pain of growth into the deeper reality of joy; and Lewis never minimizes human freedom. But it is the work of God: hence, Walls insists this view of purgatory is very much a matter of grace.

OK, time for me to state where I am:

1. Method is of colossal significance here: there is no biblical warrant for purgatory.

2. Walls, in my view, has made a case for a view of purgatory that is compatible with genuine Protestant thinking, though I cannot imagine the monergist or Calvinist would believe in his view of purgatory. But Walls argues the satisfaction models of purgatory are contradictory to Protestant thinking but the sanctification models are not.

3. I believe those who are committed to virtue ethics ought to believe in purgatory.

4. Walls is right in pushing this discussion into human freedom: if perfection is required, and if perfection for the saint is a matter of growth into perfection because it requires freedom, then purgatory is a reasonable (even Protestant) entailment.  Which takes me back to #1 above. How do we frame these sorts of doctrines? What warrants do Scriptures provide?

McKnight/ Jesus Creed, Lewis & Walls

--Nick

Scot McKnight, "Jesus and Healthcare Reform"

I'm uncertain about my ultimate opinion on Universal Healthcare. I think about it is warranted one some level ala welfare, but I'm not certain I would trust the Federal Government to enact said plan. If there was a state-run HC system, I'd be more inclined to support it.

As of now, uncertain or neutral is the best option for me. And I dislike it when people mis/appropriate Jesus into their political actions. I also dislike blatant proof-texts that suggest either support or rejection on His part. 

Anyway. Onto McKnight and CNN.

OK, I want to say just two things: to implicate Jesus in this debate requires patient study of ancient culture, the texts of the Gospels, and it also means we have to understand how the economy works. It’s not a simple “Jesus gave to the poor so vote for health care.” But.. but… but…

Jesus clearly showed a preferential option for the poor in his social vision; those who were marginalized he included. And Jesus clearly pushed hard against the rich who oppressed and who were not generous with the poor. Hence, the rich man and Lazarus parable in Luke 16. So to those who say “care belongs in the private sector” or those who say “care belongs with the federal government,” the bigger question is this: What are you doing about it with the poor at your gate? Something must be done.

Would Jesus support health care reform? 

(CNN) – He was a healer, a provider of universal health care, a man of compassion who treated those with preexisting medical conditions. 

We don’t know what Jesus thought about the individual mandate or buying broccoli. But we do know how the New Testament describes him. The Gospels are filled with stories of Jesus physically healing the most vulnerable and despised people in his society. 

References to Jesus, of course, didn’t make into the recent U.S. Supreme Court’s hearings on the constitutionality of President Barack Obama’s Affordable Care Act. Yet there is a moral dimension to this epic legal debate: 

How should the nation help its “least of these,” an estimated 50 million Americans who can’t afford health insurance, as well as those who could go broke or die because they can’t afford medical care? 

Christians are as divided about this question as others. Many cite Jesus, but come up with completely different conclusions.

McKnight/Jesus Creed

Original CNN blog well worth your time.  CNN Religion BLOG.

--Nick

Scot McKnight, 'You and Your Church's "Statement of Faith"'

I think the questions being asked are healthy, as I generally -- if not most of the time -- feel very uncomfortable in most churches unless I know where they stand. McKnight offers some great brain chowder. ;-)

If you attend a typical independent evangelical church, even one that is more pragmatic than doctrinaire, the church probably has a written “Statement of Faith,” which members are supposed to uphold.  As someone who participates in a community like Jesus Creed, you’ve probably thought through some of the issues reflected in your church’s Statement with some care — and there likely are points at which, at the very least, you’d want to interpret your church’s Statement in a way that almost certainly diverges from the intention of its original authors.  There may even be some points at which, if you’re honest, you’d have to say you really don’t agree with it.

Do you let the other stuff in the “Statement of Faith” slide, privately interpret it very broadly, hold your nose a little, sign up and then ignore it?  Do you initiate conversations with leadership to try and change things? Do you submit a statement of “reservations” as is permitted in some strongly confessional traditions?  To maintain your integrity, do you have to not seek or withdraw from membership and/or leadership?  Do you have to switch churches?  As a further twist, let’s say the senior leadership understands your reservations, doesn’t necessarily agree with all of them, but considers them secondary and is willing to tolerate them — but that the written Statement won’t or can’t be changed.  Is your subsequent ministry constrained by the Statement?

Just as one common example, many people eager to uphold the authority and integrity of scripture might nevertheless be very uncomfortable with language couched in terms of “verbal plenary inspiration” and “inerrant in the original autographs.” Some of you might even say you’re uncomfortable with such language precisely because you think it actually weakens the integrity of scripture (how would you even identify an “autograph” of a pseudepigraphical epistle, for example??) — but such language is very common in evangelical “Statements of Faith” (often because such Statements are recycled forms of things that have been around since the Bible Wars of the 1970′s).  And there are various other elements of the typical Statement of this sort that you might offer major or minor quibbles over — maybe it’s a reference to the rapture or the millennium, or overly specific language about Heaven and Hell, or something else.  The purpose isn’t to debate the merits of any of those things right now — just to identify some common ones that could be subject to question by a theologically informed person.

So what do you do, if you are or want to be an active “member” or leader in such a church?  Let’s say you’re fully happy to affirm a basic outline like the Nicene or Apostle’s Creed and to put them into a context of active piety, mission, and worship, and let’s also say that you genuinely want to participate faithfully in the body and your views of important ethical / moral issues are consistent with what the church expects.

Do you let the other stuff in the “Statement of Faith” slide, privately interpret it very broadly, hold your nose a little, sign up and then ignore it?  Do you initiate conversations with leadership to try and change things? Do you submit a statement of “reservations” as is permitted in some strongly confessional traditions?  To maintain your integrity, do you have to not seek or withdraw from membership and/or leadership?  Do you have to switch churches?  As a further twist, let’s say the senior leadership understands your reservations, doesn’t necessarily agree with all of them, but considers them secondary and is willing to tolerate them — but that the written Statement won’t or can’t be changed.  Is your subsequent ministry constrained by the Statement?

LINK and COMMENTS

--Nick

Scot McKnight, "Evangelicalism's Political Sin"

It happened under Reagan, and it is American evangelicalism’s political sin. When evangelicalism aligns itself with a political party, which happened under Reagan (I call it “Reaganology”), it seals its doom as a credible gospel witness. We are beginning to reap what we sowed.

From Reuters:

(Reuters) – Americans are increasingly uneasy with the mingling of religion and politics, according to a poll released Wednesday by the Pew Research Center, in the midst of a campaign season punctuated by tussles over the role of faith in the public square.

Back in 2001, when Pew first asked the question, just 12 percent of Americans complained that their politicians talked too much about religion.

That number has risen steadily ever since and hit a record high in the new poll: 38 percent of Americans, including 24 percent of Republicans, now say their political leaders are overdoing it with their expressions of faith and prayer.

And more Americans than ever, 54 percent, believe churches should keep out of politics. That’s up from 43 percent in 1996, according to the Pew Research Center.

The national poll of 1,503 adults, which has a margin of error of 3 percentage points, was conducted in early March, as the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops was ramping up its vigorous campaign against a new federal mandate requiring all insurance companies to provide free birth control.

The bishops continue to press that fight. Just last week, they issued a statement declaring they were “strongly unified and intensely focused” on battling the contraception mandate.

A leading voice in that campaign, Bishop William E. Lori of Bridgeport, Connecticut, this week was promoted to Archbishop of Baltimore by Pope Benedict XVI.

Peter Steinfels, co-director of the Center on Religion and Culture at Fordham University, said Americans have generally tolerated and even encouraged religious leaders to speak out on broad political issues, including capital punishment, immigration and poverty.

MORE SKEPTICAL

But Americans have long been uncomfortable with religious leaders directly involved in partisan campaigns, he said.

In recent years, most notably in the birth control battle, that line has been blurred, Steinfels said – which may account for the growing unease on display in the Pew poll.

“Religious leaders ought to be worried,” Steinfels said. “We’re seeing Americans becoming more skeptical” about the propriety of religious involvement in politics.

The bishops have sought to portray the contraceptive mandate as one prong of a broad attack on religion by state and federal authorities. The leading Republican presidential candidates have echoed that rhetoric on the campaign trail, accusing the Obama Administration of declaring war on religious freedom.

The Pew poll found evidence that argument is resonating with Catholics. Roughly one in four U.S. voters is Catholic and they are a crucial swing vote in several states pivotal to the 2012 presidential election, like Ohio, Michigan and Pennsylvania.

The poll found 25 percent of Catholics perceive the Obama administration as unfriendly to religion, up from 15 percent in a Pew poll taken in August of 2009.

The increase is even sharper among white Catholics, jumping to 31 percent from 17 percent, Pew found.

Among the public overall, 23 percent describe the Obama administration as unfriendly to religion, up from 17 percent in 2009. But another recent poll suggests the “war on religion” argument isn’t gaining traction with most adults.

A national survey conducted this month by the Public Religion Research Institute found a majority of Americans, 56 percent, do not believe religious liberty is under siege.

Republicans, senior citizens and white evangelicals were most likely to see a looming threat to religious freedom.

(Reporting By Stephanie Simon; editing by Marilyn W. Thompson and Todd Eastham)

McKnight/Jesus Creed

--Nick

Scot McKnight, Peter Enns and "The Evolution of Adam" pt III

As usual, food for the mind.

Part One (Ch 1-4) of the new book by Peter Enns, The Evolution of Adam: What the Bible Does and Doesn’t Say about Human Origins, discusses Genesis as an ancient story of Israel’s self-definition. Chapter 4, Israel and Primordial Time, sums up the discussion of Genesis and the Old Testament and moves on to consider specifically the story of Adam in Genesis 2-4. Enns argues that the OT is a story of Yahweh, the God of Israel, as creator and redeemer and that the story of Adam serves as a foundation for this story of Israel. In this post we will look at both of these arguments.

Yaweh is Creator and Redeemer.

The creation narratives in the Old Testament are not merely stories of origins. Rather they are theological statements that declare that Israel’s God is supreme, victorious over all. The Old Testament is filled with allusions to various ANE myths and stories. This was, after all, the cultural context of both the authors and the original audience. The allusions are especially prominent in the Psalms. The Lord God tamed the waters into submission, subdued and ordered the chaos, cut the Red Sea to pieces, crushed the heads of Leviathan, laid the foundations of the earth. This same God led his people out of Egypt and established David’s line “forever … through all generations.”

Speaking into the context of Israel in exile and post-exile the scriptures attest to the power and ultimate victory of God.

Israel’s God is (1) the one responsible for the created order and (2) still acting in the here and now to save his people. Yahweh, in other words, is creator and redeemer, and creation and redemption are not two separate acts; the latter is an instantiation of the former. That Yahweh was Israel’s creator and redeemer is what made him stand out among the crowd of less worthy gods, why their God alone was truly worthy of worship. (p. 65)

The theological message of the Old Testament speaks to the power and majesty of God and to his work as Israel’s redeemer. This sets the foundation for our understanding of the work of Jesus as God’s Messiah. Enns suggests that to read all of the cultural allusions at work in the Old Testament as literal will unavoidably misunderstand the theology at work. Our modern cultural context is very different.

Do you think that Yahweh as creator an redeemer is a good summary of the message of the Old Testament?

Is it reasonable to suppose that the original authors used ancient ideas about origins to convey ideas about Yahweh as creator and redeemer?

The case Enns makes for the theological message of the Old Testament is powerful, God is creator and redeemer. As one who is by nature a student and a synthesizer, who likes to look for and understand the big picture, I found the book full of important new insights and understanding. The Old Testament as a whole makes sense in ways I never saw before.

Enns also draws connections between various elements of the Old Testament – Genesis 1, the construction of the Tabernacle, the construction of the Temple, the importance of a cycle of work and rest, the pattern of seven. The created world is God’s temple. The creation story in Genesis 1 is part of Israel’s story of self-definition and the Sabbath is Israel’s privilege to share in God’s rest after victory over chaos.

Adam in Genesis. 

The specific argument Enns advances for the role of Adam within the theological message of the Old Testament is, I think, somewhat less convincing. This makes it interesting and worth some serious discussion centering around both Adam in Genesis and Adam as understood by Paul.

Enns first suggests that some of the elements of the story of Adam are about the origins of Israel rather than about the universal origin of humanity. This is a line of thought that has its origins in pre-Christian literature in Second Temple Judaism. The parallels are outlined in the table below (Table 4.1 p. 66)

This is summarized:

Adam in primordial times plays out Israel’s national life. He is proto-Israel – a preview of coming attractions. This does not mean, however, that a historical Adam was a template for Israel’s national life. Rather Israel’s drama – its struggles over the land and failure to follow God’s law – is placed into primordial time. In doing so, Israel claims that it has been God’s special people all along, from the very beginning. But this is no mere triumphalism. Israel is also asserting that (1) its sorry pattern of disobedience and eventual exile has marked their existence since the very beginning; (2) despite this pattern, their creator and savior has always been with them – and remains with them. This message of God’s faithfulness would have been especially poignant in the wake of the exile, which is likely the time when the stories were brought into their final form (as we saw earlier). (p. 66-67)

Enns continues on to describe some of the ways that this idea of Adam as proto-Israel can be reconciled with various features of the text.

Physical death becomes Adam’s end when he disobeys and is exiled from God’s garden containing the tree of life. Life, human life, is a divine gift from God – I’ve posted on my thoughts about this before, particularly in the post last August: Immortality is a Divine Gift.

Because Adam in the story is the original Israelite not the original human the presence of other peoples is not a problem. Cain found his wife from another nation.

Enns also discusses the world plays and use of the word ‘adam as, perhaps, and indication that Adam is “the one human with whom he has a unique relationship, the progenitor of God’s chosen people, Israel.”

Noah continues the line of Adam within God’s chosen people – again with disobedience, obedience, and God as creator and redeemer. The flood need not be universal in the context of the story. The parallels with Gilgamesh and Atrahasis suggest that the story has been restructured as Israel’s story.

The Story is Christ-Centered. 

I could stop at this point and open the topic for discussion – but to be fair to the force of the argument of the book it is important to point out that the story Enns puts forth is first and foremost Christ-centered. The last section of Chapter 4, The Gospel and Primordial Time, comes back to this focus.

“Jesus is the final and unsurpassed intersection of primordial time in history.” The Gospel of John is a telling of the gospel with a theological focus that brings all of these elements together. In the beginning was the word … and the word became flesh and dwelt among us. Jesus is the temple (John 2:19). The fantastic hymn in Colossians 1:15-20 repeats the same theme. All things were created through and for Jesus.

[T]he New Testament transform’s Israel’s own traditions to address the climactic turn of events in the gospel. How Israel articulates the intersection of primordial time and history is no longer adequate. Israel’s self-definition is not abandoned, but it is transformed to account for the climactic act of God. In the resurrection of the Son of God, the people see more deeply what the Israelites have expressed in their own way. Some of their articulations remain as vibrant as ever, while others are exposed as mere shadows, awaiting the clearer word that is in Jesus (Heb 1:1-4; 8:5-6) (p. 75)

In Part Two of the book Enns moves on to look at Paul’s understanding of Adam, of Christ as the second man born not of dust but from heaven, and the role this plays or should play in our understanding of the gospel. For now, however, we can stop and consider the story of Adam as told in Genesis.

What do you think about the idea that Adam is the proto-Israelite rather than the proto-human?

Do you think it works with the text? What are the theological implications?

If you wish to contact me directly, you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net

If interested you can subscribe to a full text feed of my posts at Musings on Science and Theology.

Entire link, McKnight/Enns part 3.

--Nick