Archive - March, 2010

“I am known by justice”: It’s Dangerous Being Story-Bound

The sub-title of my blog is “Telling the Story of the Story-Bound God”. This reflects my conviction that the identity of the God of the Bible is unknown without the story and peoples of the Bible. His identity is wrapped up with his people’s story–a dangerous proposition.

In the “Song of the Vineyard” in Isaiah 5 we read of YHWH’s expectations for the people he planted and cultivated. What grapes did he expect to find?

The vineyard of YHWH of hosts is the house of Israel,
and the people of Judah are his pleasant planting;
He expected justice, but saw bloodshed;
righteousness, but heard a cry! (NRSV, alt)

YHWH expected justice and righteousness. Why? Because the job of the vineyard is, apparently, to make known its planter, protector, and cultivator. When we read the following several verses later, we start to realize that Israel’s problems are a problem for Israel’s God:

YHWH of hosts is exalted by justice,
and the Holy God shows himself holy by righteousness. (NRSV, alt.)

The purpose of the vineyard was to exalt its maker and put its God on display before the world. Where are we to look to see who God is? Among God’s people, to whom he has bound himself for better or for worse. And often, we discover in the prophets, it’s for worse.

God’s name, his identity, is tied to the deeds–and fate–of his people. In this case, the identity of YHWH is obscured by his people’s faithlessness. In the exile itself, his identity will be obscured by their suffering.

Being a story-bound God is a dangerous proposition.

Adam is Israel? Ok, maybe not so fast…

I hereby repent in sackcloth and ashes for saying “YES!”

Yesterday I linked to a post by Pete Enns entitled, “Adam is Israel,” and simply said, “YES!”

The beauty of a blog is that it’s a work in progress, and I can perpetuate my posting by disagreeing not only with the rest of the world but also myself.

Ok, so, maybe I’m not totally disagreeing with myself. But I think I’d nuance the issue a bit differently than Pete does over there.

My primary concern is to say that the creation stories are written for the purpose of prequelling the story of Israel. That is to say, they are not written to be allegories of Israel’s creation (as some seem to be taking Pete’s post, though I don’t think that’s what he’d say); and I don’t think they’re even written to be metaphors of Israel’s life before God.

I’d say that they are written to tell the story of the world in such a way that the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and possibly even the Davidic Kings, would be seen as fulfilling God’s purposes for His human creations.

So yes, they are stories of everything, but stories of everything for the purpose of privileging the subsequent Israelite narratives as being the continuation of the creational purposes of YHWH.

So I think I’d rather say, “Israel is Adam,” than, “Adam is Israel,” eschewing all notions that the transitive property is relevant to theological articulation. Such a fine distinction also enables one to make some important caveats that I think are essential (that creation and covenant are two different ways of being related to God, for one thing).

That is all. For now. Until I get Pete my post on Adam and Jesus to put up at Biologos…

White as Snow: Promise or Ultimatum?

“…though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be like snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool” (Isa 1:18).

These words have been hymned countless times as beautiful depictions of the cleansing work of Christ. But are they a promise or an ultimatum?

In this middle section of ch. 1, Isaiah is leveling charges against Israel, disparaging their sacrificial service of worship inasmuch as it falls within a context of oppression and injustice (1:10-14, 17).

Within this prophetic denouncement, God demands that Israel change–that Israel cleanse itself: “Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes; cease to do evil” (1:16).

So when the prophet then turns and says, “Come, let us argue it out, says YHWH, though your sins are as scarlet they shall be like snow… If you are willing and obedient, you shall eat the good of the land…” is YHWH making a promise or delivering an ultimatum?

The call seems as though it could be a charge to Israel to get itself together, a last word of warning before Israel would be fully and finally disciplined with exile: “…but if you refuse and rebel, you shall be devoured by the sword; for the mouth of YHWH has spoken” (1:20).

Become white as snow… or else?

Victory Village?!

Victory Brewing Company plus my favorite other kind of brew, One Village Coffee, collaborating?!

Now the question: Does this collaboration prove that God loves me (as a beer brewer and OVC fan), or that I’m being disciplined inasmuch as I’m in San Francisco and this is happening in Philly?

Of course, I could always make my own One Village Brown Ale…

Stumbling Stone and Unity

Romans is written to wrestle with issues of Jews and Gentiles within the people of God. At a crucial point in the unfolding argument, Paul points to Jesus’ death as the great stumbling stone that keeps Jews from participating in the reign of its own messiah:

Because not by faith(fulness) (ἐκ πίστεως) but as by works. They stumbled over the stumbling stone, as it is written, ‘Behold! I lay in Zion a stone of stumbling (προσκόμματος) and a rock of offense (σκανδάλου), and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.’ (Romans 9:32-33)

What was striking to me as I was thinking about the admonitions toward unity in the church in chs. 14-15 is how many of the same phrases recur. If we draw them together, the theological logic seems to indicate something along these lines: the stumbling block is the faithfulness of the Messiah in death, everyone who has responded with the obedience of faith is under this Messiah’s lordship, therefore any other obstacle or stumbling block constitutes a denial of the gospel, a tearing down of the work of God.

The Christ event is the sole defining marker of the people of God. Christ died and rose again so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living (Rom 14:9).

So, the positive side: to participate in the gospel, to live out our defining narrative, is to “receive” one another just as God in Christ has accepted us (Rom 14:1, 3; 15:7-13).

We fall short in our calling to unity when we start assessing ourselves and our neighbors with respect to ourselves (as though we lived or died to ourselves) rather than with respect to the Christ who is Lord over both us and our brothers and sisters. If God has established someone, caused them to stand (14:4), then we fail when we would make them stumble.

In that context, here are the points of connection with ch. 9:

“Let us not judge one another , rather judge this: not to put before your brother or sister a source of stumbling (πρόσκομμα) or offense (σκάνδαλον).” Christ is the only stumbling stone–and source of life! Perhaps here is where divisions in the church ultimately get the story wrong? They are generated by false helpers, looked to as sources of life, required of anyone who would know the blessings of being part of the people of God.

No, Paul insists, anyone who has gotten past the life-giving stumbling block who is Christ is brother or sister. Christ who died is now alive to be Lord of us all. To destroy that work of Lordship, of someone else’s submission, is to destroy one for whom Christ died (14:15).

How can something like food or drink become evil? Not in itself, but in aligning itself against the acceptance God offers in Christ: “all things are clean, but evil to the person who eats so as to create a cause of stumbling (προσκόμματος) (14:20). What, then, is good? Not to do anything by which our family members stumble (προσκόπτει). And so we eat, but only as it comes from faith (ἐκ πίστεως).

What, then, are we called to do? Bear with one another? Yes, and much more–please one another for the other’s building up (not the tearing down of the stumbling stones!) as Christ also gave himself up for us. In this way God might make the people of one mind among one another according to Christ (15:5). What mind must we have in common if we are to be one with one another? The mind of the self-giving Christ. Cf. Phil 2.

Adam Is Israel

Over on Biologos Pete Enns has a post arguing that Adam is Israel.

YES.

More on the Reformed Traditions in Campbell

[The following is part of an ongoing series in which I blog my thoughts to Douglas A. Campbell, The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Rereading of Justification in Paul.]

In my previous post, most excellent Theophilos, I wrote of all that Deliverance of God began to do and teach with respect to the Reformed Tradition and its combination of justification with a more elective understanding of salvation. Today I want to follow up with some more concerns about the presence of both strands in this tradition. Mostly, I want to suggest that in holding onto both strands the Reformers might be imitating Paul, Judaism, and the Old Testament.

I’ll pass quickly by the possibility that justification and election are mutually informing in Paul, because I’m sure that we’ll get to this in the exegetical sections. But in the back of my mind I’m thinking, “Those whom he foreknew he also predestined to become conformed to the image of his son; and whom he foreknew these he also called, whom he called these he also justified; whom he justified these he also glorified.” In Romans 8, not only do predestination and justification come together, they come together in an eschatological (already/not yet) context entirely conditioned both by union with the dead and resurrected Jesus and the coming final judgment in which justification will be realized. We might similarly ask about Gal 3 where reception of the Spirit and justification by faith are mutually inclusive rather than representative of divergent soteriologies.

But as I said, I’ll hold back judgment on these Pauline matters for the time being, assuming they’ll be covered in due course.

The second issue that keeps springing to mind in this regard, however, is that of early Judaism.

Now I know that on many of these issues you don’t think Ed Sanders has gotten things as straight as needs be. Fair enough. But one thing he said around the seminar table has stuck with me and resonated as true to much of early Jewish literature: “Paul believed both in predestination and free will, and so did the other Jews of the first century. Do you know what the Qumran community called themselves? The elect. You know what else they called themselves? The volunteers!”

It seems more than a little likely to me that what we consider theological contradiction a first century Jew might consider paradox or mystery. This is one reason I’m less than eager to base my assessment of Paul on an idealized reconstruction of theories. I’m not persuaded that our only other option is to relegate Paul to the realm of contradiction and confusion.

Both/and might be an alternative to either/or.

I was already pondering these things in my heart when I stumbled across the following from Walter Brueggemann. He discusses the OT, delving into YHWH’s identity as it is tied to the people of Israel. When talking about the covenants, he bids us not press the distinction between “conditional” and “unconditional” covenants.

On the whole, however, in my judgment it is futile and misleading to sort out unconditional and conditional aspects of YHWH’s covenant with Israel. The futility and misleading quality of such an enterprise can be stated on two quite different grounds. First, even the covenant with the ancestors of Genesis includes and imperative dimension…Second, if this relationship is indeed one of passionate commitment, as it surely is, it is undoubtedly the case that every serious, intense, primary relationship has within its dimensions of conditionality and unconditionality that play in different ways in different circumstances. The attempt to factor out conditional and unconditional aspects of the covenant is an attempt to dissect and analyze the inscrutable mystery of an intimate, intense relation that, by definition, defies all such disclosure. (An Unsettling God, 24)

Much of the argument depends on the inherent incompatibility between what are assessed as two ways of thinking. I’m wrestling with this idea, now, from a couple of different angles: (1) are these ways of thinking inherently incompatible as claimed? (2) is there any reason to think Paul would have thought so–or are there good reasons to think he might not have? and (3) what about the actual theories that have held the two elements together? where do they fall apart?

The weight of the coming argument about Romans is going to rest, in large measure, on the power of the division. Am I asking for more prolegomena?! Maybe just different…

Things a Human would NEVER Get to Do…

Of course, for all that humans might be involved with God’s work on earth, we know that there are some things a human would never get to do. If a person were worshiped alongside YHWH, that person would be tantamount to God. And if a person were to sit on YHWH’s heavenly throne (Bauckham) that person would be sitting depicted as YHWH himself, right?

Right!

Unless, of course, you’re the ideal king of Israel, as Solomon was to the Chronicler:

20 Then David said to the whole assembly, “Bless the LORD your God.” And all the assembly blessed the LORD, the God of their ancestors, and bowed their heads and prostrated themselves before the LORD and the king (KJV: and bowed down their heads, and worshipped the LORD, and the king.). 21 On the next day they offered sacrifices and burnt offerings to the LORD, a thousand bulls, a thousand rams, and a thousand lambs, with their libations, and sacrifices in abundance for all Israel; 22 and they ate and drank before the LORD on that day with great joy. They made David’s son Solomon king a second time; they anointed him as the LORD’s prince, and Zadok as priest. 23 Then Solomon sat on the throne of the LORD, succeeding his father David as king; he prospered, and all Israel obeyed him.  (1Ch 29:1 NRS, HT, James McGrath, The Only True God)

I know what you’re gonna say: they just bowed down according to the NRSV, they didn’t “worship” both. Yeah. In the temple. Bowed down and bowed down (ויקדו וישתחוו).

They bow before both YHWH and his king, the king takes his seat on YHWH’s throne and thereby begins to represent YHWH’s rule to the earth–and mediate the world’s worship to YHWH.

“Kiss the son,” indeed.

My point, as in all such rants, is to highlight the importance of recognizing that Jesus’ vocation to rule the world on God’s behalf is as much about Jesus’ being human as it is about Jesus’ being God. While both are true, our anthropology and christology are both impoverished if we skip too lightly past Jesus’ calling to be The Man.

God’s Dangerous Entry

I know I need to stop mentioning Walter Brueggemann’s Unsettling God or risk an intervention by my OT colleagues, but the book opens up such a rich, vibrant vista on God–one that is actually recognizable to someone who has read the Bible!–that I can’t help myself.

Thinking about the Lenten story as a way to remind ourselves that the road to glory is the road of the cross, I did some reflecting yesterday on how such a narrative speaks to us of the character of God–a God who has chosen to enter into the suffering of the world, be invoked by the world’s sufferers, and to act in genuine response.

Bruegemann reflects on the risk involved for God in so conjoining himself to his people, and to the relationships and redemption that actually unfold on the earth. The risk is no better illustrated than on the cross. Jürgen Moltmann elaborates:

To understand what happened between Jesus and his God and Father on the cross, it is necessary to talk in trinitarian terms. The Son suffers dying, the Father suffers the death of the Son. The grief of the Father here is just as important as the death of the Son. The Fatherlessness of the Son is matched by the Sonlessness of the Father, and if God has constituted himself as the Father of Jesus Christ, then he also suffers the death of his Fatherhood in the death of the Son. (The Crucified God, 243; cited on p.11 of Unsettling God)

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” matched by “My Son, my Son, why have you gone away?” There’s a Lenten story worth pondering…

More from Campbell: When Luther and Calvin Get It Right (and Wrong)

Douglas, I’m up to the part on hermeneutical considerations, where I was most keenly interested in what you were going to say about the Reformed Tradition. But before we get there…

I thought you did a very good job laying out the building blocks of interpreting a text. In particular, there were three important pieces you brought to the table. One was that we need to read things such that they make sense within a flow of an argument (at least, that should be our preference). The other was to make us step back and start to think through whether a word or set of words might have a very different set of connotations in the first century than they do in the sixteenth.

The third piece was one that I especially resonated with, and that was the often unacknowledged power of the system on the lower layers of theological interpretation. This gets ramped up in any number of ways (including saying that ‘the gospel’ is at stake)–all of which are question begging. Having spent far too much of my life trying to have biblical-exegetical questions in the conservative Reformed world, I can testify to the fact that the concern to allow the text to speak, and the danger that it will become a dummy to the system’s ventriloquist is not a bogeyman but the reality of a large and growing swath of American conservative Reformed Christianity (how’s that for a series of qualifiers?!).

I am very glad that you put all these issues on the table.

But I wasn’t happy with the investigations into Luther and Calvin. Not that you aren’t right about the things they say, but that I’m not sure you’ve dealt the the looming objection to your project.

If I understand you correctly, your point is that Luther and Calving both contain “mixed” systems. They promote the system of “justification theory” as you outline it, and they also promote a system of election, depravity, etc.

Why didn’t I find this helpful? First, it seemed that if this was all you need to say, it could have been dispensed with in one sentence: “Yes, the two things you associate with Calvinism are both present in the Reformers; i.e., justification theory and that series of doctrines tied to predestination/election.” Calvinism in my worlds typically connotes TULIP or something close to it. That it’s present in Calvin is not all that significant.

The more important argument that needs to be addressed is not whether both dynamics are present, but how they are related. Thus, for example, you cite Institutes 3.1.1, where Calvin talks about the need for the Holy Spirit to unite us to Christ, as an example of the latter, “alternative”/participatory theory. But you’ve also talked about his later discussions of justification as embodying what you call “justification theory.”

But what you haven’t done is to get into Calvin’s system and see how these two are related; you haven’t delved into how, in fact, justification is subordinated to union with Christ soteriology! This is the great argument the Reformed Tradition has to make against your project, not simply that both elements are present in both Paul and the Tradition, but that they are fit together into a coherent system.

Under your justification theory, there’s no way to integrate the two, but Calvin has done so. Now, he might be confused, but he still needs to be addressed (it seems to me). For example: under your understanding of justification theory, Calvin is bound to place justification fully within the free choice of a non-regenerate person. But why is it that he not only takes up justification after union with Christ (3.1.1.) but even after sanctification?! For a Reformer, this might seem to be selling the farm on justification. But Calvin can do this because it’s a function or facet of his union with Christ soteriology.

In my estimation, the only way to make a compelling case against the Reformers at this point is to show that their system must fall apart as its given. This has been my concern all along with your articulation of justification theory. Why must your articulation of the theory be correct? And does the fact that it is clearly not the justification theory of the Reformers (with the possible exception of Melanchthon) not take away some of the power from the argument?

We need to wrestle with a couple other points related to this: (1) what if such a mixed theory is Pauline? (2) what if in promoting a mixed theology of grace and choice Paul is simply reflecting the theological possibilities of early Judaism? and (3) what if in this early Judaism is accurately embodying the apparently mixed theology of the Old Testament?

I’ll outline those concerns in my next post.

Disclaimer: Eerdmans sent me a gratis copy of this book, but without the stipulation either that it would be reviewed or that it would be reviewed favorably.

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