Each Israelite was initiated into God's war against flesh when they were circumcised at eight days old. God's war against flesh is extended through deeper commitment to this Abrahamic people through whom God will save the world. This commitment has to do with, basically, marrying Israel, and moving in with her.
As with any marriage, promises are made. God makes promises and so does Israel. They move in together in the form of a tabernacle. God comes down to live, move, and travel with Israel in the most holy place. The tabernacle, and later the temple, is comprised of three areas: the courtyard, the holy place, and the most holy place. The picture of the tabernacle corresponds to Mount Sinai, where Israel camped at the foot of the mountain (the courtyard), elders waited midway up the mountain (holy place), and Moses met with God at the top (most holy place). Even so, the most holy place contains God's law, the ten commandments, and God himself dwells there in the form of his glory cloud, by which he guided Israel through the wilderness. The high priest would go in to the most holy place once a year on the Day of Atonement.
Now, even in our contemporary marriages, we don't fulfill these promises by our natural strength, but rely chiefly upon the Lord, and also rely upon the community of people around us for help. It's not easy. The marriage between God and his people is no less fraught, because although God is perfectly able to keep his promise, Israel is not. The Israelites may be circumcised. But they are also still flesh, like all human beings. Even though they are initiated into God's war against flesh, they are still prone to the boasting and vanity of flesh. Torah, or God's levitical law, does not make perfect justice. It does not kill flesh. It re-enforces distance between God and his people as much as it relaxes it. But it still allows for a real though limited access for Israel to meet with God.
While the world was already under the curses of Eden and Babel, God built the tabernacle and instituted it under Moses' brother Aaron and his sons. As Leithart writes, "the building of the tabernacle and later the temple did not create the conditions of exclusion and distance. In fact, the sanctuary was a countermovement to the curse of Eden. Yahweh drove Adam and Eve out of the garden; he invited Aaron and his sons in."
Notice the way Leithart links the Tabernacle and Eden. We'll explore this more tomorrow, but yes, the symbolism of the tabernacle and all that fills it conveys a sense of hope that God's people will one day re-enter the garden. The tabernacle is a place of hope, not despair; happiness, not sadness. More Leithart: "For the first time since Adam, holy men walked on holy ground, with only a veil embroidered with cherubim between them and Yahweh. The tabernacle was still holy space, but the boundaries of holy space had become porous. Yahweh expelled Adam from the garden in wrath, and put Adam under wrath. In the tabernacle system, Yahweh went out into the howling waste to find his unfaithful bride and bring her back home. He went outside Eden to give a taste of Eden to Adam's children who lived east of Eden." (95)
Here, we have a sense that the union between God and Israel is already in a sense a vow renewal between God and the bride who had been unfaithful to him in Eden. We also have the sense that the whole tabernacle structure is more about hospitality than it is about intimidation. It is more about granting real access than it is about limiting it. It's double-sided. There is a limiting factor. God imposed purity regulations upon his people. Only clean persons were permitted to enter the court of the sanctuary. This "no" to impurity though, does not reflect God's preoccupation with keeping us out of his presence, but rather reflects his determination to make a way for us to draw near. The ultimate end of the rules is the removal of impurity and the closure of distance.
Ezekiel 16 helps here. Ezekiel 16 is an allegory of Judah's promiscuity and harlotry. As God cares for her, he adorns her with cloth, porpoise skin sandals, bracelets, gold, silver and linen, and feeds her with the goods of the land - flour, honey and oil. This picture of God's care follows an ordination sequence - washing, anointing, and clothing - using tabernacle materials. (see Delivered, 96) The ordination and priestly imagery doesn't follow a symbolism of distance, but rather a deeply romantic symbolism meant to suggest nothing less than marital bliss, the throes of passion and sensuality. Thus Leithart can write: "The tabernacle curtains and adornments were bridal adornments, and the tabernacle was the bridal tent where Yahweh and Israel had their appointed meetings. It was a tent of meetings, a tent for trysts, a place for communion of Yahweh and Israel, not for the self-isolation of Yahweh." (96-97) Holy convocations like the Sabbath, Passover, the Festival of Weeks, and more (Lev. 23 provides a list) were a married couples' schedule of romantic rendezvous.
Once again, the access is limited. Purity regulations teach Israel to distance themselves from flesh, to put flesh to death, in order to draw near to God. This pertains to how Israel was to deal with blood, which animals they ate, childbearing, emissions from the body, skin diseases. Flesh spreads pollution. Sanctuary defilement differs from land defilement. Land defilement can be expelled only by being sent out into the grave of exile to rise again to a new inheritance.
God rigorously and thoroughly excludes the pollution of flesh from his house, so the access of a fleshly people is and always would be limited. But it is real. The blessings and gifts God would convey upon his people will be the blessings to the world. This is because, in his tabernacle, God is giving his people a foretaste of, and giving them a hopefulness for, re-entry into the Garden of Eden.
Monday, March 11, 2019
Lent 2019: Monday, March 11 - Circumcision
Immediately after the tower of Babel, God calls Abram. God's whole plan, it turns out, is now going through Abram. We know this because the two great promises God makes to Abram - land and people - correspond to the two great curses. The land promised to Abram will be a new Eden, a land "flowing with milk and honey." (Ex. 3:8) Also, the people that will descend from Abram will break the curse of Babel and its divided people. The people are a "seed" that will fertilize the land. What God will do with Abram is what Jacob sees in his dream - a ladder between heaven and earth, a new Eden, a true gate to God that will be a true Tower of Babylon (which means "gate of God") No more floods. No more open warfare against the violent flesh of the earth. God will grow the redemption of the earth through one particular stream - the stream of Abram. The curse will be broken through Abraham and his 'seed.'
But as we've seen, humanity under the power of death lives by boastful flesh. Flesh, again, is Paul's word for sinful humanity. It isn't our bodies. Those are good, very good. Flesh is a fear of death that goes all the way down, which manifests itself in us through works of strength, boastfulness, and self-sufficiency. How will flesh be put to death in Abram? The answer is circumcision. It is the sign of God's promise and covenant with Abram.
I want to pause for a moment. This Lenten series is about the public impact of Christ's cross, about how it actually changes the world. Initially, it seems that in talking about circumcision, we move away from the public aspects of our lives and move into the most private aspects of anyone's life - their sexuality. Perhaps I need to confess some of my own boastfulness. I want to say something important in this blog! And let's face it - writing about circumcision is embarrassing. But if the curse of sin is all about building bulwarks against our vulnerability to death, then childbearing and the sexuality that leads to it is one of the best God-replacements we can find. That the sign of the covenant is a subversive mark on a sexual organ is a sign that this is where our greatest sinful boast against death resides. This is where we think we can find immortality. This is where we think death can't get us.
We must first see circumcision as a parody of other civilizations. To ensure their future, ancient civilizations made religious symbols of sexual prowess and conquest. Naked worshipers bore phallic statues through Greek rituals of worship. Peter Leithart writes: "Sexual potency and procreation are paths to immortality, two of flesh's main strategies for overcoming the fear of death." (Delivered, 89) And it was all about the men. Civilizations valorized male flesh and male members. Trying to compensate for fleshly weakness and vulnerability to death, they boasted in male virility and strength. Their society was structured likewise. Women and slaves were impure and unclean. The new society God builds in Abram is a parody of these other societies. Where they ensure their future by boasting in male flesh, God's new people in Abram have only circumcised men, with cuts in their flesh. They are a civilization devoted to denying the flesh. Any future they have will not come from their own virility, but will come from God alone.
This is a parody. Parodies are stories that find humor in patterns, tropes, and commonplaces by retelling them with exaggeration. A joke appears in Reader's Digest: "A priest, a rabbi, a nun, a doctor, and a lawyer all walk into a bar. The bartender says, "What is this? A joke?" This joke is a parody of other jokes. Priests, rabbis, nuns, and more often turn up in jokes. Here, they all appear. They appear in a bar, a common setting for jokes. The punchline is only funny if you've heard a lot of these jokes to the point where you understand how they work.
Circumcision is a parody on the flesh-obsessed world. The joke is on them. It exposes them (pun intended). Flesh teaches all the world how to compete, how to conquer, how to be virile, how to win, how to stay alive at all costs, how to defend your life, your family, your tribe at the expense of all others. Flesh teaches this, but God's plan is to teach his people how to kill flesh. This will shape everything about Israel's worship, their sacrifices, and their ethics. It is all a parody. And it is all grounded in what circumcision means: subverting the boasting and vanity of flesh. Israel will still gain victories. God will give them everything that flesh seeks after - life, happiness, safety, family. All the good things of life. But it will only come from denying the flesh.
All their victories will be circumcised victories. When Gideon comes out to battle in the Book of Judges with 32,000 men, God keeps reducing his ranks until he has only 300. This is a parody. The only victory the Israelites will win is a circumcised victory. It is a victory they would never have won unless the Lord fought for them. When the Philistine giant Goliath is defeated by a small boy David, it is a circumcised victory. A circumcised victory is like a resurrection from the dead, a battle of certain death which only the Lord can win.
After circumcision, Abram is now Abraham. He is not of the flesh. He lives by God's Spirit. But this is a lesson Abraham continues to learn. The promises will not be fulfilled by the flesh. God promises Abraham and Sarah a child, but they are old and Sarah's womb is "dead." (Rom. 4) God's promise must be fulfilled by resurrection from the dead. When God calls Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac, it is like another circumcision. For a world under the power of death, having children is a way for us to have immortality. Abraham must trust his son, his 'flesh', to be put to death, and that God will still find a way to fulfill his promises. God intercedes and an animal substitute is killed instead. God needed to know that Abraham was willing to live by the Spirit and not by flesh.
Solomon's great temple will eventually be built on Mount Moriah, the same place where Abraham obeyed God with regard to sacrificing his 'flesh.' In Abraham, in Isaac, and in the whole sacrificial system that is eventually built around them, we see that God is finding a way to put flesh to death without killing people. Death itself is being put to death without people having to die. This will overcome the curse of Eden.
Finally, we see that Christ's cross is a type of circumcision:
"Your whole self ruled by the flesh was put off when you were circumcised by Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through your faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead." (Col. 2:9-12)"
Ultimately, what Jesus accomplishes is the true and final death of flesh. Then, we see the quintessential Christian approach to all our pedigrees, victories, and accomplishments in Paul's words:
"If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless. But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ." (Philippians 3:4b-7)
Paul's accomplishments are fleshly boasting, which are put to death in Christ's cross. So he denies them. He keeps putting them to death. We see ultimately that the rich symbolism of circumcision throughout the Bible points us to consistent pattern for this world, and for all Christians, of death and resurrection. To echo the Thursday, March 7 devotion, we were under the power and curse of death. We lived by flesh, and were in league with death in rebellion against the Lord. This death, this flesh, is put to death by the true circumcision of Christ's cross so that we live by God's Spirit alone, boasting not in our accomplishments, but in him alone.
But as we've seen, humanity under the power of death lives by boastful flesh. Flesh, again, is Paul's word for sinful humanity. It isn't our bodies. Those are good, very good. Flesh is a fear of death that goes all the way down, which manifests itself in us through works of strength, boastfulness, and self-sufficiency. How will flesh be put to death in Abram? The answer is circumcision. It is the sign of God's promise and covenant with Abram.
I want to pause for a moment. This Lenten series is about the public impact of Christ's cross, about how it actually changes the world. Initially, it seems that in talking about circumcision, we move away from the public aspects of our lives and move into the most private aspects of anyone's life - their sexuality. Perhaps I need to confess some of my own boastfulness. I want to say something important in this blog! And let's face it - writing about circumcision is embarrassing. But if the curse of sin is all about building bulwarks against our vulnerability to death, then childbearing and the sexuality that leads to it is one of the best God-replacements we can find. That the sign of the covenant is a subversive mark on a sexual organ is a sign that this is where our greatest sinful boast against death resides. This is where we think we can find immortality. This is where we think death can't get us.
We must first see circumcision as a parody of other civilizations. To ensure their future, ancient civilizations made religious symbols of sexual prowess and conquest. Naked worshipers bore phallic statues through Greek rituals of worship. Peter Leithart writes: "Sexual potency and procreation are paths to immortality, two of flesh's main strategies for overcoming the fear of death." (Delivered, 89) And it was all about the men. Civilizations valorized male flesh and male members. Trying to compensate for fleshly weakness and vulnerability to death, they boasted in male virility and strength. Their society was structured likewise. Women and slaves were impure and unclean. The new society God builds in Abram is a parody of these other societies. Where they ensure their future by boasting in male flesh, God's new people in Abram have only circumcised men, with cuts in their flesh. They are a civilization devoted to denying the flesh. Any future they have will not come from their own virility, but will come from God alone.
This is a parody. Parodies are stories that find humor in patterns, tropes, and commonplaces by retelling them with exaggeration. A joke appears in Reader's Digest: "A priest, a rabbi, a nun, a doctor, and a lawyer all walk into a bar. The bartender says, "What is this? A joke?" This joke is a parody of other jokes. Priests, rabbis, nuns, and more often turn up in jokes. Here, they all appear. They appear in a bar, a common setting for jokes. The punchline is only funny if you've heard a lot of these jokes to the point where you understand how they work.
Circumcision is a parody on the flesh-obsessed world. The joke is on them. It exposes them (pun intended). Flesh teaches all the world how to compete, how to conquer, how to be virile, how to win, how to stay alive at all costs, how to defend your life, your family, your tribe at the expense of all others. Flesh teaches this, but God's plan is to teach his people how to kill flesh. This will shape everything about Israel's worship, their sacrifices, and their ethics. It is all a parody. And it is all grounded in what circumcision means: subverting the boasting and vanity of flesh. Israel will still gain victories. God will give them everything that flesh seeks after - life, happiness, safety, family. All the good things of life. But it will only come from denying the flesh.
All their victories will be circumcised victories. When Gideon comes out to battle in the Book of Judges with 32,000 men, God keeps reducing his ranks until he has only 300. This is a parody. The only victory the Israelites will win is a circumcised victory. It is a victory they would never have won unless the Lord fought for them. When the Philistine giant Goliath is defeated by a small boy David, it is a circumcised victory. A circumcised victory is like a resurrection from the dead, a battle of certain death which only the Lord can win.
After circumcision, Abram is now Abraham. He is not of the flesh. He lives by God's Spirit. But this is a lesson Abraham continues to learn. The promises will not be fulfilled by the flesh. God promises Abraham and Sarah a child, but they are old and Sarah's womb is "dead." (Rom. 4) God's promise must be fulfilled by resurrection from the dead. When God calls Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac, it is like another circumcision. For a world under the power of death, having children is a way for us to have immortality. Abraham must trust his son, his 'flesh', to be put to death, and that God will still find a way to fulfill his promises. God intercedes and an animal substitute is killed instead. God needed to know that Abraham was willing to live by the Spirit and not by flesh.
Solomon's great temple will eventually be built on Mount Moriah, the same place where Abraham obeyed God with regard to sacrificing his 'flesh.' In Abraham, in Isaac, and in the whole sacrificial system that is eventually built around them, we see that God is finding a way to put flesh to death without killing people. Death itself is being put to death without people having to die. This will overcome the curse of Eden.
Finally, we see that Christ's cross is a type of circumcision:
"Your whole self ruled by the flesh was put off when you were circumcised by Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through your faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead." (Col. 2:9-12)"
Ultimately, what Jesus accomplishes is the true and final death of flesh. Then, we see the quintessential Christian approach to all our pedigrees, victories, and accomplishments in Paul's words:
"If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless. But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ." (Philippians 3:4b-7)
Paul's accomplishments are fleshly boasting, which are put to death in Christ's cross. So he denies them. He keeps putting them to death. We see ultimately that the rich symbolism of circumcision throughout the Bible points us to consistent pattern for this world, and for all Christians, of death and resurrection. To echo the Thursday, March 7 devotion, we were under the power and curse of death. We lived by flesh, and were in league with death in rebellion against the Lord. This death, this flesh, is put to death by the true circumcision of Christ's cross so that we live by God's Spirit alone, boasting not in our accomplishments, but in him alone.
Friday, March 8, 2019
Lent 2019: Saturday, March 9 - Divided Flesh
Peter Leithart describes the whole history of redemption this way: "From the moment of the fall, (God) began his ages-long war against and prosecution of flesh." (Delivered, 283)
We see moments early in the Bible as God makes evaluative claims against flesh. In describing the flood, Leithart describes how "Yahweh's Spirit wearies of the struggle with flesh (Gen. 6:3) and grieves over the damage to creation (Gen. 6:6-7), the violence that flesh invariably produces (Gen. 6:13). In the flood, Yahweh wipes the world clean of all flesh (Gen. 6:13, 17; 7:21). (85)
Noah represents a re-creation of the whole world, a new start in a world in which all the flesh, death, and violence of the world has been put to death. Indeed, Noah plants a garden of his own - a vineyard. Noah's name means "bringer of rest." Perhaps he has brought the world from violence to Sabbath peace. However God's post-flood evaluation of humanity as inclined to evil from youth (8:21) is ultimately confirmed in the great fall that takes place at the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11 where humanity is divided.
To appreciate the Tower of Babel, it will help to meet up again with our Jewish traveler.
The Jewish traveler we met in yesterday's post is part of a fictional travelogue which allows us to in-dwell an ancient sacrificial culture. In three separate accounts, the traveler encounters an Egyptian, a Babylonian, and a Greek. Here are his reflections upon entering Babylon:
"My fathers were here," I mused as I wandered the dusty streets of Babylon. They had been captured and transported to this very place. Perhaps the palace where Daniel had served Nebuchadnezzar was still standing, or the place where the king had set up his great image and commanded all in Babylon to bow to it. Perhaps this square was the place of the great furnace where the three children sang as they stood in the fire with the son of God.
"The temples of the land between the rivers are very impressive. As I have traveled along the Euphrates, I have seen great houses of the gods, some standing strong like fortresses, some in ruins. Some structures rise up above the landscape like mountains made by human hands, with a temple at the top that seemed to scrape the edge of heaven. They must have been one hundred cubits tall.
"I spoke to an old man who sat by the gate of the city. Temples, he said, were the main elements of worship in Babylon. They are divided into three main areas, a babu, a gate, and then the bitu, the house of the god itself, and the inner sanctuary is the kissumu, the dark room, the place that knows not daylight. He told me that the man-made mountains were called ziqquratu, which meant a place highly built. The temples were called the "bonds of heaven and earth," or the "highly built house." I could almost hear Sennacherib's great boast at the walls of Jerusalem, and the boast of the king of Babylon of which Isaiah told. (Isaiah 36-39). The temples of Babylon and Assyria are there to puff up the pride of kings." (Delivered, 49-50)
This account helps us to understand the Tower of Babel. The tower is built not just to earn fame, but to be a temple, to connect heaven and earth. It is to be a dwelling for Babylonian gods. Though in exile from God's presence, this clan descended from Noah's son Shem wants to "re-establish the Garden." (A House for My Name, 59) God's evaluation is two-fold: 1) although the mandate to Noah was to fill the earth, the Babylonians don't want to be scattered. As a result, they'll be scattered more widely than they were to begin with. 2) They want to make a name for themselves, but the name they receive is "Babel" which means confusion. (A House for My Name, 60)
We see in this transition that there is a uniting power of flesh in the building of the Tower which is dissipated after God's judgment. Post-Babel, the division and fragmentation are institutionalized and part of what flesh does is separate itself from other flesh.
Paul would later describe the works of flesh in this way - that it produces "enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissentions, factions, envying. (Gal. 5:20-21) Flesh is still stronger than ever after Babel, but God's war against and prosecution of flesh goes on. He is building the case. We will see with Abraham that God now sets about creating a community that is radically devoted to opposing flesh at its very root, a community that will not exist for its own fleshly boasting, but will be God's means to reunite the world. God will undo the curse of division from Babel, even as he undoes the curse of death from Eden. Re-entry into Eden for the exiles. Re-gathering of God's scattered, fragmented, Babel people.
We see moments early in the Bible as God makes evaluative claims against flesh. In describing the flood, Leithart describes how "Yahweh's Spirit wearies of the struggle with flesh (Gen. 6:3) and grieves over the damage to creation (Gen. 6:6-7), the violence that flesh invariably produces (Gen. 6:13). In the flood, Yahweh wipes the world clean of all flesh (Gen. 6:13, 17; 7:21). (85)
Noah represents a re-creation of the whole world, a new start in a world in which all the flesh, death, and violence of the world has been put to death. Indeed, Noah plants a garden of his own - a vineyard. Noah's name means "bringer of rest." Perhaps he has brought the world from violence to Sabbath peace. However God's post-flood evaluation of humanity as inclined to evil from youth (8:21) is ultimately confirmed in the great fall that takes place at the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11 where humanity is divided.
To appreciate the Tower of Babel, it will help to meet up again with our Jewish traveler.
The Jewish traveler we met in yesterday's post is part of a fictional travelogue which allows us to in-dwell an ancient sacrificial culture. In three separate accounts, the traveler encounters an Egyptian, a Babylonian, and a Greek. Here are his reflections upon entering Babylon:
"My fathers were here," I mused as I wandered the dusty streets of Babylon. They had been captured and transported to this very place. Perhaps the palace where Daniel had served Nebuchadnezzar was still standing, or the place where the king had set up his great image and commanded all in Babylon to bow to it. Perhaps this square was the place of the great furnace where the three children sang as they stood in the fire with the son of God.
"The temples of the land between the rivers are very impressive. As I have traveled along the Euphrates, I have seen great houses of the gods, some standing strong like fortresses, some in ruins. Some structures rise up above the landscape like mountains made by human hands, with a temple at the top that seemed to scrape the edge of heaven. They must have been one hundred cubits tall.
"I spoke to an old man who sat by the gate of the city. Temples, he said, were the main elements of worship in Babylon. They are divided into three main areas, a babu, a gate, and then the bitu, the house of the god itself, and the inner sanctuary is the kissumu, the dark room, the place that knows not daylight. He told me that the man-made mountains were called ziqquratu, which meant a place highly built. The temples were called the "bonds of heaven and earth," or the "highly built house." I could almost hear Sennacherib's great boast at the walls of Jerusalem, and the boast of the king of Babylon of which Isaiah told. (Isaiah 36-39). The temples of Babylon and Assyria are there to puff up the pride of kings." (Delivered, 49-50)
This account helps us to understand the Tower of Babel. The tower is built not just to earn fame, but to be a temple, to connect heaven and earth. It is to be a dwelling for Babylonian gods. Though in exile from God's presence, this clan descended from Noah's son Shem wants to "re-establish the Garden." (A House for My Name, 59) God's evaluation is two-fold: 1) although the mandate to Noah was to fill the earth, the Babylonians don't want to be scattered. As a result, they'll be scattered more widely than they were to begin with. 2) They want to make a name for themselves, but the name they receive is "Babel" which means confusion. (A House for My Name, 60)
We see in this transition that there is a uniting power of flesh in the building of the Tower which is dissipated after God's judgment. Post-Babel, the division and fragmentation are institutionalized and part of what flesh does is separate itself from other flesh.
Paul would later describe the works of flesh in this way - that it produces "enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissentions, factions, envying. (Gal. 5:20-21) Flesh is still stronger than ever after Babel, but God's war against and prosecution of flesh goes on. He is building the case. We will see with Abraham that God now sets about creating a community that is radically devoted to opposing flesh at its very root, a community that will not exist for its own fleshly boasting, but will be God's means to reunite the world. God will undo the curse of division from Babel, even as he undoes the curse of death from Eden. Re-entry into Eden for the exiles. Re-gathering of God's scattered, fragmented, Babel people.
Thursday, March 7, 2019
Lent 2019: Friday, March 8 - Taste Not, Touch Not
In a series of encounters with Gentiles, a Jew converses with an Egyptian in the ancient world. They talk of their sacrificial systems. The Egyptian says:
"We are most scrupulous for cleanliness," he was saying. "We believe that purity is necessary if we are to please the gods. We drink from cups of bronze and rinse them out every day. We wear garments of linen that are always newly washed." He gestured elegantly at his robe, which was indeed dazzling white. "We priests - we are called wab because we are purified - we shave ourselves all over our bodies every other day, so that no lice or any foul thing comes on us. We wear only linen, and sandals of papyrus. We wear no wool in the presence of the gods. We wash ourselves in cold water twice a day and twice in a night, in the sacred lake near the temple. Before we enter the temple, we have to chew natron to cleanse our breath and we have to fumigate ourselves with incense. We must keep ourselves from women during the days before we are to serve the god. We have countless services to perform for our gods, so they will be favorable to us." (Leithart, Delivered, 44)
The same Jewish traveler in Greece makes observations about a statue of Athena:
"In one hand she held a spear and in the other a shield depicting the Athenian slaughter of the Amazons. Another battle, between gods and giants, was depicted on the inside of her shield, and her sandals were decorated with scenes of the war between the Lapiths and the centaurs. The rest of the building was decorated with other scenes of the tale of Athena - her birth from the head of her father Zeus on the east pediment. Their temples are temples to gods of battle, but I wonder if the Athenians are not more worshipers of their own strength than the strength of the gods. I wonder if they do not boast more in their own flesh than in their gods." (Delivered, 58)
We sense here in the Jewish traveler the dubious sensibility that this is all a charade, which caused Jews and Christians to nearly do away with sacrifice entirely:
"Christianity entered the world, after all, announcing the end of sacrifice. The letter to the Hebrews contrasts the multiple, yet impotent, offerings of the Levitical system with the once-for-all offering on the cross, which has power to save forever. Deviating from both Judaism and paganism, most Christians gave up animal sacrifice entirely and introduced a nearly unthinkable religion without temples and altars, without blood, fire, and vapor of smoke." (Leithart, quoted from First Things magazine)
This traveler is mindful that the sacrificial systems of the ancient world operated in sham purity and cleanliness rituals. Established to hold death at bay, they keep entire societies in thrall to death. Christianity puts an end to all sacrifice. Nearly. It nearly does this, but not entirely. Because sacrifice is still important, not because we need many rules and policies to govern purity and cleanliness. Christ has taken care of that. We need sacrifice because death needs to be put to death. And for that to happen, "flesh" needs to die, and the old "elementary forces" need to end.
Paul describes the way Christ has dealt with flesh in Colossians 2:8-23:
"For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and in Christ you have been brought to fullness. He is the head over every power and authority. In him you were also circumcised with a circumcision not performed by human hands. Your whole self ruled by the flesh was put off when you were circumcised by Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through your faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead." (Col. 2:9-12)
Flesh as it is expressed here, is not referring to our bodies of flesh and bones. That flesh is good. Flesh, as Leithart writes, is a "master metaphor to describe the condition of humanity following the fall." (Delivered, 78)
Another key phrase from Colossians 2 is what Paul describes as the "elements:"
"See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on Christ." (Col. 2:8)
"Since you died with Christ to the elemental spiritual forces of this world, why, as though you still belonged to the world, do you submit to its rules: "Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!" (Col. 2:20-21)
Our Jewish traveler encountered people living under the elements according to flesh. No one will ever pass into Eden this way. Paul is telling us in these passages that Christ's death allows people to cross over death, to pass into Eden, without actually dying. As they participate in Christ's death through baptism, they are not literally put to death, but are able to pass into the "Christian era", so to speak, where they are able to live by a different physics that is not according to flesh and the elemental spiritual forces of the world. Flesh is killed. So are the elemental spiritual forces.
A "taste not, touch not" ethic like we've encountered here leaves its participants as children and slaves. Christ's sacrifice, in putting flesh to death, allows for growth and maturity, so that we don't do away with sacrifice, but enter more fully into Christ's sacrifice.
"We are most scrupulous for cleanliness," he was saying. "We believe that purity is necessary if we are to please the gods. We drink from cups of bronze and rinse them out every day. We wear garments of linen that are always newly washed." He gestured elegantly at his robe, which was indeed dazzling white. "We priests - we are called wab because we are purified - we shave ourselves all over our bodies every other day, so that no lice or any foul thing comes on us. We wear only linen, and sandals of papyrus. We wear no wool in the presence of the gods. We wash ourselves in cold water twice a day and twice in a night, in the sacred lake near the temple. Before we enter the temple, we have to chew natron to cleanse our breath and we have to fumigate ourselves with incense. We must keep ourselves from women during the days before we are to serve the god. We have countless services to perform for our gods, so they will be favorable to us." (Leithart, Delivered, 44)
The same Jewish traveler in Greece makes observations about a statue of Athena:
"In one hand she held a spear and in the other a shield depicting the Athenian slaughter of the Amazons. Another battle, between gods and giants, was depicted on the inside of her shield, and her sandals were decorated with scenes of the war between the Lapiths and the centaurs. The rest of the building was decorated with other scenes of the tale of Athena - her birth from the head of her father Zeus on the east pediment. Their temples are temples to gods of battle, but I wonder if the Athenians are not more worshipers of their own strength than the strength of the gods. I wonder if they do not boast more in their own flesh than in their gods." (Delivered, 58)
We sense here in the Jewish traveler the dubious sensibility that this is all a charade, which caused Jews and Christians to nearly do away with sacrifice entirely:
"Christianity entered the world, after all, announcing the end of sacrifice. The letter to the Hebrews contrasts the multiple, yet impotent, offerings of the Levitical system with the once-for-all offering on the cross, which has power to save forever. Deviating from both Judaism and paganism, most Christians gave up animal sacrifice entirely and introduced a nearly unthinkable religion without temples and altars, without blood, fire, and vapor of smoke." (Leithart, quoted from First Things magazine)
This traveler is mindful that the sacrificial systems of the ancient world operated in sham purity and cleanliness rituals. Established to hold death at bay, they keep entire societies in thrall to death. Christianity puts an end to all sacrifice. Nearly. It nearly does this, but not entirely. Because sacrifice is still important, not because we need many rules and policies to govern purity and cleanliness. Christ has taken care of that. We need sacrifice because death needs to be put to death. And for that to happen, "flesh" needs to die, and the old "elementary forces" need to end.
Paul describes the way Christ has dealt with flesh in Colossians 2:8-23:
"For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and in Christ you have been brought to fullness. He is the head over every power and authority. In him you were also circumcised with a circumcision not performed by human hands. Your whole self ruled by the flesh was put off when you were circumcised by Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through your faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead." (Col. 2:9-12)
Flesh as it is expressed here, is not referring to our bodies of flesh and bones. That flesh is good. Flesh, as Leithart writes, is a "master metaphor to describe the condition of humanity following the fall." (Delivered, 78)
Another key phrase from Colossians 2 is what Paul describes as the "elements:"
"See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on Christ." (Col. 2:8)
"Since you died with Christ to the elemental spiritual forces of this world, why, as though you still belonged to the world, do you submit to its rules: "Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!" (Col. 2:20-21)
Our Jewish traveler encountered people living under the elements according to flesh. No one will ever pass into Eden this way. Paul is telling us in these passages that Christ's death allows people to cross over death, to pass into Eden, without actually dying. As they participate in Christ's death through baptism, they are not literally put to death, but are able to pass into the "Christian era", so to speak, where they are able to live by a different physics that is not according to flesh and the elemental spiritual forces of the world. Flesh is killed. So are the elemental spiritual forces.
A "taste not, touch not" ethic like we've encountered here leaves its participants as children and slaves. Christ's sacrifice, in putting flesh to death, allows for growth and maturity, so that we don't do away with sacrifice, but enter more fully into Christ's sacrifice.
Wednesday, March 6, 2019
Lent 2019: Thursday, March 7 - Death as a Power
Adam and Eve were not to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge under the threat that if they were to do so, they would die. When they eat, this is the curse of Eden that falls upon them and upon the creation, that though they were dust, they would also return to dust in death. The way back into Eden is cut off from them by sword and flame, meaning anyone who tries to enter will be killed, but before they leave, God makes garments of skin for Adam and Eve, meaning an animal was killed.
The imagery of death abounds, in ways that both reflect the curse of death, but which also begin to show us the role death plays in God's redemptive plan. Death expels Adam and Eve from the Garden. But death is also their only way into the presence of God, and the only way that Adam and Eve can ever make it back into the garden. Peter Leithart writes: "From Adam on, if anyone wanted to enter the presence of God, he would have to pass through the sword and fire of the cherubim. No man could return to feast in the presence of God unless he first died. Yahweh performed the first sacrifice by providing animal skins for Adam and Eve, and from that point on no one could approach God's presence unless he were clothed in an animal. He could return to life, feasting and the presence of God only by passing through death." (Delivered, 77)
The death of Adam and Eve must be put to death. The drama is this: how can this be done without actually killing us? How can we be put to death without actually being put to death?
What is death anyway? From the perspective of Christ's completed work, Paul reflects in his Letter to the Romans on the nature of death as a "power." He writes: "...death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come." Again, Paul later writes, "...death reigned through that one man" just as grace and righteousness reign through Jesus. And finally, Paul writes, "...just as sin reigned in death," grace also reigns. (Rom. 5:14-21) Paul is telling us that death under the first Adam and grace under the second Adam, Jesus, are two opposing reigns, two opposing kingdoms, two different realms or aeons. His point ultimately is that Christ has put the old reign to death.
But we must stop to appreciate that death is a power. It is its own kingdom that governs by its own rules. It turns a harmonious, orderly cosmos into chaos, under its own twisted order. Leithart writes: "Flesh is not only a motivating power for individuals but also a principle of religious life and social organization. It is a "power" in the Pauline sense, a transpersonal reality that dominates and may enslave human beings." (82) Fleming Rutledge writes: "Paul's preferred way of identifying the occupying Enemy is in its various manifestations as Sin, Death, and the Law - or alternatively, as principalities and powers, as kurio (lords), thrones, authorities, and other designations." (Rutledge, 378) Rutledge elsewhere invokes the fiction of Cormac McCarthy for powerfully conveying this. "In (McCarthy's novel) The Crossing, we meet one of (McCarthy's) enigmatic sages: "The old man (said that) the wolf...knows what men do not: that there is no order in the world save that which death has put there." (Rutledge, 202) Notice that death has agency in this line. It put something there. This gets at the ways that Satan orders these things to impose his rule over this age. Think of the authority Satan claims in the temptation passages with Jesus in the Bible.
Finally, it is important for us to see that if death is a power, if it has agency, then all humanity are active in bondage to it. Philip Ziegler writes: "To be lorded over by Sin is to have been engaged to be its representative, "member, part, and tool."...In our very existence "we are exponents of a power which transforms the cosmos into chaos," our lives actually "making a case" for the power that possesses us and in whose service we are enrolled. This is why Paul characterized the guilt of Sin not in terms of ignorance, but rather in terms of "revolt against the known Lord." (quoted in Rutledge, 179)
Two things are important to note here. First, we're part of the mess. Ignorant or not, we remain in revolt, in league with Death, sworn enemy of the Lord. Hiding this fact, that we are in bondage to death, we try to push death to the margins of our lives as much as we can. We hide from it. We protect ourselves from it. We deny it. We fear it. We puff ourselves up, because we don't want to be afraid. Leithart writes: "Vulnerability to loss, lack, death and damage leads to fear, and fear produces protectiveness, protectiveness produces violence and aggression." (80) It is a type of boasting. A deeply ironic one to be sure, because so much of our displays of strength are just our attempts to hide this core vulnerability. All human boasting, prowess in battle, sexual prowess, public debate, etc., all greed, cruelty, rivalry between genders, rivalry between races, even religions - its all fleshly boasting. Leithart again: "Flesh is good. Even mortal flesh is not evil in itself. Flesh becomes a motivator of sin and evil when human beings seek to compensate for finitude, mortality, weakness, when they refuse to accept their vulnerability and trust their Creator for all good gifts." (81-82)
Second, we can see that we are helpless to do anything about this. If sin, death, and the devil were just behavioral dispositions in each of us, maybe we could develop some better habits and improve things. But when Death is a power, a rival kingdom, its another story. But this frees us to see what it means that Christ's reign doesn't come from within this reign of death, but from outside. It is a revelation. It is a disclosure. It is "an electrifying bulletin from somewhere else, over against and independent of anything, religious or otherwise, that we human beings could ever have dreamed up or projected out of our own wishes." (Rutledge, 140) In other words, Christ's reign doesn't come as good advice, but as good news.
The imagery of death abounds, in ways that both reflect the curse of death, but which also begin to show us the role death plays in God's redemptive plan. Death expels Adam and Eve from the Garden. But death is also their only way into the presence of God, and the only way that Adam and Eve can ever make it back into the garden. Peter Leithart writes: "From Adam on, if anyone wanted to enter the presence of God, he would have to pass through the sword and fire of the cherubim. No man could return to feast in the presence of God unless he first died. Yahweh performed the first sacrifice by providing animal skins for Adam and Eve, and from that point on no one could approach God's presence unless he were clothed in an animal. He could return to life, feasting and the presence of God only by passing through death." (Delivered, 77)
The death of Adam and Eve must be put to death. The drama is this: how can this be done without actually killing us? How can we be put to death without actually being put to death?
What is death anyway? From the perspective of Christ's completed work, Paul reflects in his Letter to the Romans on the nature of death as a "power." He writes: "...death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come." Again, Paul later writes, "...death reigned through that one man" just as grace and righteousness reign through Jesus. And finally, Paul writes, "...just as sin reigned in death," grace also reigns. (Rom. 5:14-21) Paul is telling us that death under the first Adam and grace under the second Adam, Jesus, are two opposing reigns, two opposing kingdoms, two different realms or aeons. His point ultimately is that Christ has put the old reign to death.
But we must stop to appreciate that death is a power. It is its own kingdom that governs by its own rules. It turns a harmonious, orderly cosmos into chaos, under its own twisted order. Leithart writes: "Flesh is not only a motivating power for individuals but also a principle of religious life and social organization. It is a "power" in the Pauline sense, a transpersonal reality that dominates and may enslave human beings." (82) Fleming Rutledge writes: "Paul's preferred way of identifying the occupying Enemy is in its various manifestations as Sin, Death, and the Law - or alternatively, as principalities and powers, as kurio (lords), thrones, authorities, and other designations." (Rutledge, 378) Rutledge elsewhere invokes the fiction of Cormac McCarthy for powerfully conveying this. "In (McCarthy's novel) The Crossing, we meet one of (McCarthy's) enigmatic sages: "The old man (said that) the wolf...knows what men do not: that there is no order in the world save that which death has put there." (Rutledge, 202) Notice that death has agency in this line. It put something there. This gets at the ways that Satan orders these things to impose his rule over this age. Think of the authority Satan claims in the temptation passages with Jesus in the Bible.
Finally, it is important for us to see that if death is a power, if it has agency, then all humanity are active in bondage to it. Philip Ziegler writes: "To be lorded over by Sin is to have been engaged to be its representative, "member, part, and tool."...In our very existence "we are exponents of a power which transforms the cosmos into chaos," our lives actually "making a case" for the power that possesses us and in whose service we are enrolled. This is why Paul characterized the guilt of Sin not in terms of ignorance, but rather in terms of "revolt against the known Lord." (quoted in Rutledge, 179)
Two things are important to note here. First, we're part of the mess. Ignorant or not, we remain in revolt, in league with Death, sworn enemy of the Lord. Hiding this fact, that we are in bondage to death, we try to push death to the margins of our lives as much as we can. We hide from it. We protect ourselves from it. We deny it. We fear it. We puff ourselves up, because we don't want to be afraid. Leithart writes: "Vulnerability to loss, lack, death and damage leads to fear, and fear produces protectiveness, protectiveness produces violence and aggression." (80) It is a type of boasting. A deeply ironic one to be sure, because so much of our displays of strength are just our attempts to hide this core vulnerability. All human boasting, prowess in battle, sexual prowess, public debate, etc., all greed, cruelty, rivalry between genders, rivalry between races, even religions - its all fleshly boasting. Leithart again: "Flesh is good. Even mortal flesh is not evil in itself. Flesh becomes a motivator of sin and evil when human beings seek to compensate for finitude, mortality, weakness, when they refuse to accept their vulnerability and trust their Creator for all good gifts." (81-82)
Second, we can see that we are helpless to do anything about this. If sin, death, and the devil were just behavioral dispositions in each of us, maybe we could develop some better habits and improve things. But when Death is a power, a rival kingdom, its another story. But this frees us to see what it means that Christ's reign doesn't come from within this reign of death, but from outside. It is a revelation. It is a disclosure. It is "an electrifying bulletin from somewhere else, over against and independent of anything, religious or otherwise, that we human beings could ever have dreamed up or projected out of our own wishes." (Rutledge, 140) In other words, Christ's reign doesn't come as good advice, but as good news.
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
Lent 2019: Ash Wednesday, March 6 - Fleshly Impatience
Ash Wednesday reminds us that we all will die. While this feels morbid, the beginning of the Bible tells us is that we should have taken death more seriously, and that I'm very likely hide the fact of my death from myself. It isn't pathological to attend to death in this way. In fact, it's one of the healthiest things we can do!
When God first created the universe, he made a garden where he placed the man and the woman he had created. However, there is a rich symbolism that underlies the garden. When God creates the world, he creates skies, land, and seas to be a type of three-story house. He divides things on the first three days to create these spaces, and then on the second three days, he fills these places with other things - stars, birds, animals. To be precise, the sky has two parts - the highest heavens and the firmament. He divides up the land and makes a garden within the larger land of Eden. The garden serves in the role of a sanctuary where God would meet with Adam. Adam's priestly work was in the garden, protecting it, while his kingly work was in Eden, working. The garden, the land of Eden, and the outside lands all correspond to a picture of the world and of heaven, in which there is no division between the religious sphere of our lives and the secular sphere of our lives.
When we read Genesis 1 and 2 and ponder an existence before the fall, we wonder what that would be like. Given that our lives are so often driven by the worry that something could go wrong, its hard to imagine a flawless world and not think it would be a little boring. It would not have been. Adam and Eve, as with all of us, were created in God's image. God says on the sixth day: "Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals." (Gen. 1:26) We see that humanity are made in God's image. First, this means that all of creation is in some way a sign or symbol of God. Second, this means that humanity are the ones who recognize this and participate in this process. James B. Jordan writes: "God has been presented as one who determines, creates, evaluates, names, takes counsel among Himself, etc. These things are what man uniquely images." (Through New Eyes, 31) This also suggests something extraordinary about this world that we often forget. Just because things change doesn't mean things get worse. Adam and Eve were commissioned to have dominion in the world. They were to garden and cultivate, to bring latent potentialities and possibilities out of the creation. Peter Leithart writes: "Even before Adam sins, it is not easy to rule creation. Animals need training, trees are tough to cut, the earth is hard to dig, and rocks are hard to break." This work is to make the world useful for Adam, but not only for Adam. It should become more pleasing to God. More Leithart: "God does not want Adam simply to have children; He wants Adam to have faithful, godly children who worship and serve Him. God does not want Adam to use iron to hurt other people; He wants Adam to use iron to make useful tools and musical instruments. Adam is the king of the world, but he is always a servant to a higher King. If Adam subdues the world as God commands, he will be building a house for God within the house that God has built for him." (Leithart, A House for My Name, 51-52)
All this shows us that Adam and Eve were to grow and change. They were to have experiences. They were to sweat and toil. They were to have children. They were to mature and grow ever-more into the dignity and image in which they were created. Part of this has to do with freedom, with learning to say yes, and also learning to say no. God wasn't going to force feed them the Tree of Life. And he wasn't going to fence off the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. It wouldn't always be off limits. What role it played, it played within the economy of God's equipping. Leithart writes that Adam was a "child" who was destined to be elevated to kingship. The tree of judgment would signify "his eventual entrance into mature kingly wisdom." (Delivered, 76) Much as we would perhaps learn the lesson of gravity, Adam is placed under a curriculum. Adam, taste not. Touch not.
Humanity in their original, created dignity were not superheroes. They weren't sinners, but they were still vulnerable. Leithart writes: "Adam and Eve were created as flesh - limited, weak, vulnerable, touchable, woundable. That was good, very good. They might have accepted their vulnerability and the precariousness of their fleshly life, trusting the Father to care for them. Adam might have been content to wait for the Lord to open his hand to satisfy his desires, might have trusted his Father to give him his full inheritance when the Father saw that he was ready. Eve might have rejoiced in fleshly weakness and trusted her Father to supply whatever strength she needed." (Delivered, 76)
We'll treat the judgment for eating of the forbidden fruit tomorrow. For now, we emphasize Adam and Eve's impatience with their own flesh. They wanted to transcend the vulnerability, weakness, and limitations they knew in their humanity. The vulnerability they wanted to escape now becomes cursed, a type of prison. They leave the created dignity of vulnerability. They leave the Garden and the Tree of Life. But we already know from the end of the Bible that the redeemed in Christ will find the Tree of Life again. (Rev. 22:2) Eden must stay before our eyes throughout the Bible. The yearning for Eden is there on every mountain top, in every sacrificial encounter with God mediated through priest and tabernacle, in every wedding, in every scene of flourishing in the broken world. Whatever Christ will do must have to do with breaking the curse of Eden and gaining re-entry for those cast out. And the restored humanity will be like that which Adam and Eve cast off - a vulnerable, touchable, weak humanity with emotions and senses, images of God, yet part of the world.
What we find today on Ash Wednesday, and what we'll explore tomorrow is how much death defines so much of the broken reality of this life. Death is the quintessential mark of the Enemy-occupied world. It is the devil's greatest tool to gather all of us up, to shape all of our decision-making so that we are complicit, bound up together in corruption. Christ's victory over the devil allows Ash Wednesday to sober us, to extinguish our fear of death with the cool baptismal water which tells us that we belong to Christ, that he will usher us through death to eternal life, that he alone is the one who can lead us back to Eden.
When God first created the universe, he made a garden where he placed the man and the woman he had created. However, there is a rich symbolism that underlies the garden. When God creates the world, he creates skies, land, and seas to be a type of three-story house. He divides things on the first three days to create these spaces, and then on the second three days, he fills these places with other things - stars, birds, animals. To be precise, the sky has two parts - the highest heavens and the firmament. He divides up the land and makes a garden within the larger land of Eden. The garden serves in the role of a sanctuary where God would meet with Adam. Adam's priestly work was in the garden, protecting it, while his kingly work was in Eden, working. The garden, the land of Eden, and the outside lands all correspond to a picture of the world and of heaven, in which there is no division between the religious sphere of our lives and the secular sphere of our lives.
When we read Genesis 1 and 2 and ponder an existence before the fall, we wonder what that would be like. Given that our lives are so often driven by the worry that something could go wrong, its hard to imagine a flawless world and not think it would be a little boring. It would not have been. Adam and Eve, as with all of us, were created in God's image. God says on the sixth day: "Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals." (Gen. 1:26) We see that humanity are made in God's image. First, this means that all of creation is in some way a sign or symbol of God. Second, this means that humanity are the ones who recognize this and participate in this process. James B. Jordan writes: "God has been presented as one who determines, creates, evaluates, names, takes counsel among Himself, etc. These things are what man uniquely images." (Through New Eyes, 31) This also suggests something extraordinary about this world that we often forget. Just because things change doesn't mean things get worse. Adam and Eve were commissioned to have dominion in the world. They were to garden and cultivate, to bring latent potentialities and possibilities out of the creation. Peter Leithart writes: "Even before Adam sins, it is not easy to rule creation. Animals need training, trees are tough to cut, the earth is hard to dig, and rocks are hard to break." This work is to make the world useful for Adam, but not only for Adam. It should become more pleasing to God. More Leithart: "God does not want Adam simply to have children; He wants Adam to have faithful, godly children who worship and serve Him. God does not want Adam to use iron to hurt other people; He wants Adam to use iron to make useful tools and musical instruments. Adam is the king of the world, but he is always a servant to a higher King. If Adam subdues the world as God commands, he will be building a house for God within the house that God has built for him." (Leithart, A House for My Name, 51-52)
All this shows us that Adam and Eve were to grow and change. They were to have experiences. They were to sweat and toil. They were to have children. They were to mature and grow ever-more into the dignity and image in which they were created. Part of this has to do with freedom, with learning to say yes, and also learning to say no. God wasn't going to force feed them the Tree of Life. And he wasn't going to fence off the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. It wouldn't always be off limits. What role it played, it played within the economy of God's equipping. Leithart writes that Adam was a "child" who was destined to be elevated to kingship. The tree of judgment would signify "his eventual entrance into mature kingly wisdom." (Delivered, 76) Much as we would perhaps learn the lesson of gravity, Adam is placed under a curriculum. Adam, taste not. Touch not.
Humanity in their original, created dignity were not superheroes. They weren't sinners, but they were still vulnerable. Leithart writes: "Adam and Eve were created as flesh - limited, weak, vulnerable, touchable, woundable. That was good, very good. They might have accepted their vulnerability and the precariousness of their fleshly life, trusting the Father to care for them. Adam might have been content to wait for the Lord to open his hand to satisfy his desires, might have trusted his Father to give him his full inheritance when the Father saw that he was ready. Eve might have rejoiced in fleshly weakness and trusted her Father to supply whatever strength she needed." (Delivered, 76)
We'll treat the judgment for eating of the forbidden fruit tomorrow. For now, we emphasize Adam and Eve's impatience with their own flesh. They wanted to transcend the vulnerability, weakness, and limitations they knew in their humanity. The vulnerability they wanted to escape now becomes cursed, a type of prison. They leave the created dignity of vulnerability. They leave the Garden and the Tree of Life. But we already know from the end of the Bible that the redeemed in Christ will find the Tree of Life again. (Rev. 22:2) Eden must stay before our eyes throughout the Bible. The yearning for Eden is there on every mountain top, in every sacrificial encounter with God mediated through priest and tabernacle, in every wedding, in every scene of flourishing in the broken world. Whatever Christ will do must have to do with breaking the curse of Eden and gaining re-entry for those cast out. And the restored humanity will be like that which Adam and Eve cast off - a vulnerable, touchable, weak humanity with emotions and senses, images of God, yet part of the world.
What we find today on Ash Wednesday, and what we'll explore tomorrow is how much death defines so much of the broken reality of this life. Death is the quintessential mark of the Enemy-occupied world. It is the devil's greatest tool to gather all of us up, to shape all of our decision-making so that we are complicit, bound up together in corruption. Christ's victory over the devil allows Ash Wednesday to sober us, to extinguish our fear of death with the cool baptismal water which tells us that we belong to Christ, that he will usher us through death to eternal life, that he alone is the one who can lead us back to Eden.
Monday, March 4, 2019
Lent 2019: Tuesday, March 5 - What Was Finished?
When Jesus died on the cross, the Gospel of John tells us that he said, "It is finished." Here is the quote in larger context:
"Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, "I am thirsty." A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus' lips. When he had received the drink, Jesus said, "It is finished." With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit." (John 19:28-30)
When Jesus died, and he said "it was finished," what was he referring to? Personally, as Christians, we sense that Christ has taken away sin, death, and hell. We read of it in Scripture. We have grace, new life, forgiveness of sin, fulfillment of promises, and assurance of salvation. Yet, while these may be included in Jesus' "it", is this all we could find? Have we canvassed the whole terrain?
At stake here is the question of how the world can be changed. Now maybe you've heard - you can change the world! Or maybe you've heard that you can't. Still, to live today seems to include a yearning to change the world, and to have a sense that we should want to. If the world has let us down, where do we get this yearning for a different sort of world? What do we do with that yearning? If Jesus finished something, why doesn't the finished product look more like the redeemed world we'd (perhaps) like to see? Is Jesus' completed work for a few scattered individuals, or is there something in it for the world in general?
P.T. Forsyth writes about this hope:
"The gift and grace of God for the whole world is there. It is not simply nor chiefly the love of Christ for his brethren that is in the Cross. That was indeed uppermost in Christ's life; but in his death that is not direct but indirect; and the primary thing is Christ's obedience to God, and his action, therefore, as the channel of God's redeeming love. It is the love of God for the godless, loveless, hating world that is there. And it is there, not simply expressed but effected, not exhibited but enforced and infused, not in manifestation merely, but in judgment and decision...The prince of this world is already judged. He acts today as a power, indeed, but only as a doomed power. His sentence went out in the Cross. And he knows it. Humanity was rescued from him there. The crisis of man's spiritual destiny is there. The opus operatum of history is there. It is not simply revelation, but revelation as redemption. It does not show, it does." (The Cure of Souls, 40-41)
Forsyth's bold claim that humanity was rescued at the cross is grounded in what we know of the event. Christ did not only die for his disciples. Christ died for those who put him to death. He died for the "godless, loveless, hating world." Paul extrapolates from that to say that this is how we know he has saved us: "While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Rom. 5:8) I can only sense that Chris Konker is loved by Christ as I have an understanding for what Christ did for an entire rebellious world on the cross. My own individual salvation is best understood within the larger story of what God has done for all of creation in Jesus Christ.
This blog series will explore that question of what Christ has done for the world. We will wrestle with the topics of weighty words like atonement and justification. The payoff from this will be an increased sense of what God has already done for you, me, and the world that nothing can take away. We have every reason to expect a lot here. As Paul writes, "And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." (Ephesians 3:18).
Lent seems a great time to explore this in a condensed way. The 40 days of Lent have historically been a time for the church to look again at what it means to answer Christ's invitation to take up our cross and follow him. The Bible is our chief guide, but we'll also have two theologian companions: Peter Leithart and Fleming Rutledge. Both wrote mammoth books about the crucifixion three to four years ago. This blog series will allow me an opportunity to work through their books some more. Leithart's book Delivered from the Elements of the World seeks to chart an understanding of Christ's death that is deeply attentive to levitical sacrifices. Fleming Rutledge's The Crucifixion is a deep dive into seven biblical motifs for understanding Christ's crucifixion. Although her book is several hundred pages longer than Leithart's, Rutledge's book is easier to read. That said, it is Leithart's presentation that will be way more influential on this blog. My headings for the 40 days mirror the layout of Leithart's book.
I'm humbled as I begin this, not because I expect much from my endeavors, but because I know I'll fall short. I have not read any book that has quite seemed to do justice to all I feel about the cross, to the point that it has seemed to me better to sit and ponder the cross itself rather than to chart guesses as to what it means. I still feel that way. My prayer is that these Lenten reflections will motivate us to sit in silence in front of the cross more often. And I also pray that you would join me in answering the question, "what was finished?" with a resounding answer of, "A LOT!"
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