What did it mean to call Jesus “God”? NT Wright

November 5, 2013 By Scot McKnight

NT Wright, in his Paul and the Faithfulness of God, examines Paul’s theology as a mutation or reframing of classic Jewish monotheism themes (alongside election and eschatology), including who God is. This has led for centuries to the question If Jesus is God or if he is not God. The framing of that question, though, is often backward or sideward and often enough not — in fact, Wright would say rarely — from the ground level of 1st Century Jewish Christians.

If Paul must have been aware that he was reaffirming the classic Jewish monotheism of his day, he must equally have been aware of the fact that he had redrawn this monotheism quite dramatically around Jesus himself. This bold claim will be made good in what follows (644).

NTWright develops his christology in discussion with many proposals, including Moule, Dunn, Hurtado, but especially Richard Bauckham:

Bauckham’s proposal is simple and striking: that

the highest possible Christology – the inclusion of Jesus in the unique divine identity – was central to the faith of the early church even before any of the New Testament writings were written, since it occurs in all of them.

Nor did this require any backing away from ancient Jewish monotheism:

. . . this high Christology was entirely possible within the understanding of Jewish monotheism we have outlined. Novel as it was, it did not require any repudiation of the monotheistic faith which the first Christians axiomatically shared with all Jews. That Jewish monotheism and high Christology were in some way in tension is one of the prevalent illusions in this field that we must allow the texts to dispel.

Jewish Monotheism, he here clarifies, has three aspects: creational, eschatological and cultic. God is the sole creator; he will at the last establish his universal kingdom; and he and he alone is to be worshipped. This launches Bauckham into a detailed, and necessarily technical, account of Paul’s language about Jesus, from which he concludes that Paul, like the rest of early Christianity, unhesitatingly ascribed to Jesus precisely this triple divine identity. He is the agent of creation; he is the one through whom all things are reconciled; he is to be worshipped.

With all of this I am in agreement. But there is one thing missing, and it is the burden of my song in this chapter to propose it and explain it. And it seems to me that when we do so all kinds of other evidence comes back into the picture to make an even larger, more comprehensive and satisfying whole (652-653).

Wright continues on the same page, after observing that the method is backwards — namely wondering if Judaism had other figures about whom they said divine-type things, thereby making it Jewish to do what Christians did:

But to raise the question in this way is, I believe, to start at the wrong end. If the phenomenon to be explained is the fact that from extremely early on the followers of Jesus used language for him (and engaged in practices, such as worship, in which he was invoked) which might previously have been thought appropriate only for Israel’s God, why should we not begin, not with ‘exalted figures’ who might as it were be assimilated into the One God, but with the One God himself? Did Judaism have any beliefs, stories, ideas about God himself upon which they might have drawn to say what they now wanted to say about Jesus?

Which story? Here is Wright’s proposal:

Central to second-temple monotheism was the belief we sketched in chapter 2: that Israel’s God, having abandoned Jerusalem and the Temple at the time of the Babylonian exile, would one day return. He would return in person. He would return in glory. He would return to judge and save. He would return to bring about the new Exodus, overthrowing the enemies that had enslaved his people. He would return to establish his glorious, tabernacling presence in their midst. He would return to rule over the whole world. He would come back to be king (653).

Here we go because the way to ask the deity question is to ask if the story about God was the story about Jesus — and I would agree with NTW on this and would also say it is the way forward in so many discussions of christology. What is the story about God? What is the story about Jesus?

Notice, though, even at this stage, what follows. Whereas in the modern period people have come to the New Testament with the question of Jesus’ ‘divinity’ as one of the uppermost worries in their mind, and have struggled to think of how a human being could come to be thought of as ‘divine’, for Jesus’ first followers the question will have posed itself the other way round. It was not a matter of them pondering this or that human, angelic, perhaps quasi-divine figure, and then transferring such categories to Jesus in such a way as to move him up (so to speak) to the level of the One God. It was a matter of them pondering the promises of the One God whose identity, as Bauckham has rightly stressed, was made clear in the scriptures, and wondering what it would look like when he returned to Zion, when he came back to judge the world and rescue his people, when he did again what he had done at the Exodus. Not for nothing had Jesus chosen Passover as the moment for his decisive action, and his decisive Passion. It was then a matter of Jesus’ followers coming to believe that in him, and supremely in his death and resurrection – the resurrection, of course, revealing that the death was itself to be radically re-evaluated – Israel’s God had done what he had long promised. He had returned to be king. He had ‘visited’ his people and ‘redeemed’ them. He had returned to dwell in the midst of his people. Jesus had done what God had said he and he alone would do. Early christology did not begin, I suggest, as a strange new belief based on memories of earlier Jewish language for mediator-figures, or even on the strong sense of Jesus’ personal presence during worship and prayer, important though that was as well. The former was not, I think, relevant, and the latter was, I suggest, important but essentially secondary. The most important thing was that in his life, death and resurrection Jesus had accomplished the new Exodus, had done in person what Israel’s God had said he would do in person. He had inaugurated God’s kingdom on earth as in heaven. Scholars have spent too long looking for pre-Christian Jewish ideas about human figures, angels or other intermediaries. What matters is the pre-Christian Jewish ideas about Israel’s God. Jesus’ first followers found themselves not only (as it were) permitted to use God-language for Jesus, but compelled to use Jesus-language for the One God (654-655).

So now to this:

All these themes, then, lead into one another, spill over into one another, presuppose one another, interact with one another: Exodus, redemption, tabernacle, presence, return, wisdom, kingship (655).

Jesus: When was he first worshiped?

September 9, 2013 By Scot McKnight

James D.G. Dunn was my doctoral supervisor. I have visited with Jimmy most every year since the early 1980s at the annual academic conferences, and this sketch of his newest book needs to be seen in that light. In many ways, this book returns to the sort of work he was doing in the 1980s when I was his student and which established the kind of scholarship he does. Reading the book was like sitting in the seminar room in Nottingham, flanked by Goldingay and Casey, with Dunn engaging two scholars — Hurtado and Bauckham — in typically Dunnian form.

The question Jimmy Dunn asks is actually slightly different than the title of this post: Did the first Christians worship Jesus? This question, the subject of Dunn’s newest book Did the First Christians Worship Jesus?: The New Testament Evidence, surfaces from the claims of Larry Hurtado and Richard Bauckham, both of whom contend that Jesus was worshiped by the Christians early, within just a few years. That question gets modified as the study proceeds.

It would take a long review to do full justice to this book, and it would complicate the review to engage with the subtleties of this debate with Hurtado and Bauckham, so I want to focus on Dunn’s major conclusions because he is taking issue with both of these scholars and contending, in essence, that they have overstated the evidence.

1. When it comes to the terms for “worship,” though there is evidence these terms were used of Jesus, there is a reserve on the early Christians’ part. He says “Generally no” or “only occasionally” [but this opens up a fissure into the whole issue. It’s like the deity of Christ discussion: are we looking for evidence that his deity pervades everything, as we will find in later discussions, or are we looking for evidence that one or more NT statements make that claim. Once one finds one incontestable, or at least one instance, the Christian’s instinct is to say “So, yes, they did worship Jesus.”] Dunn thinks the NT shows Jesus is both the source of worship and the object of that worship.

2. When it comes to the practice of worship, the evidence is similar: few prayers are addressed to him, few hymns to him, no sacrifices to him. What we find is that Jesus is wholly bound up with their worship. This provokes another question: was their worship possible without Christ? (more…)

You Can’t Take the Bible Literally – Right? (RJS)

February 26, 2013 By RJS

Tim Keller’s book The Reason for God grew out of his experience talking with young professionals and others skeptical of Christian faith. The questions are similar to those raised on many college campuses – among both faculty and students. Come on, many ask us today, you can’t really take the Bible literally—Can you? Or more often in my experience there will be derisive comments about those fanatics who do take the Bible literally.

The question of the Bible is addressed in Chapter 7 of The Reason for God, although Keller does not really answer a question about the “literal” nature of the Bible in this chapter. A better formulation and a more important question is: You can’t take the Bible seriously—Can you? Keller explores two kinds of issues commonly raised against taking the bible seriously – historical skepticism and cultural questions.

Consider the Bible, especially the New Testament: How can we trust this two thousand year old book? Isn’t it a politically motivated collection of early texts designed to enhance the power and prestige of the Roman emperor and the Church hierarchy? Isn’t it full of error and uncertainty – so that we cannot even know what Jesus said or taught with any confidence?

After all, we are told, there are more textual variants than words in the text…the early church suppressed the true diversity of early Christianity for its own benefit…The Gospel of Judas provides important new insight into the early church understanding of the crucifixion…Jesus was married and we have the tomb and ossuaries to prove it…Matthew didn’t really write Matthew…John didn’t really write John…Peter didn’t really write Peter…Paul didn’t really write half of the letters attributed to him…many of the documents were written 100 or more years after the fact…we can reconstruct a Q gospel and a gospel of the cross providing better insight into the early church and historical events before mythology and legend took over…the New Testament is culturally bound, repressive, and not a valid guide for the 21st century…women are oppressed…slavery is supported — you name it. We see the news, watch the documentaries, read the books.

The answer, of course, is that it perfectly reasonable to take the Bible seriously with respect to the life and death of Jesus Christ. One need not check one’s brains at the door to do so. Keller has some of the usual discussion and good list of resources. I have found Mark Robert’s little book Can We Trust the Gospels?: Investigating the Reliability of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John very useful in looking at these questions. On a more scholarly level there are books like Richard Bauckham’s Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony. If then, one grants the reliability of the narrative, the real question is not “can I trust an old book?” but rather “is Jesus who he said he was?” and perhaps “did the disciples and apostles have a true understanding of who Jesus was?”

I have a personal reflection here. One of the biggest issues for many is a doctrine of scripture that seemed to pit faith and reason in mortal combat. But this need not be. We must be able to take the Bible seriously – but quite honestly faith does not really demand any more than that. When it comes right down to it I believe the Bible is inspired and authoritative because I am a Christian – I am not a Christian because I believe the Bible is inspired and authoritative. Even more importantly I have come to the realization that we must let the Bible be the book it is and let the book we have, preserved by God, for us, through the work of the Spirit in the church, define what it means for the Bible to be inspired and authoritative. We get into big trouble when we first define what the Bible must be and then try to make it fit our mold, our mode thinking. This, I think, has been a major problem in much of Protestant, especially evangelical, Christianity.

Table the Problem Passages. In his book Keller also suggests that non-Christians considering the gospel should not worry about the hard texts (like 1 Tim 2:11-15 for example) and the intramural squabbles of the church. Christians disagree over these texts, so non-Christians should ignore them and look at the whole message – the core doctrine. Is the Gospel of Jesus attractive and viable? If so worry about the details later. Many (but not all) of the intramural squabbles of the Keller chooses to sidestep arise more from a culturally shaped definition of what scripture “must be” than from the sweep of the biblical narrative itself.

The Old Testament. In his interview Martin Bashir noted that Keller made a reasonable case for the gospels and then homed in on other aspects of scripture:

1:01-1:13 What am I supposed to make about Old Testament texts about murder, about dealing with concubines, about this bizarre book of the Revelation where there’s horses and scrolls and images. What about all of that? What about those parts of the Bible?

2:37-2:47 Do you not find that what you say about those passages may well be robust but elsewhere the case is undermined, undermined rather badly?

Don’t questions about the reliability of the Old Testament (or the “absurdity” of Revelation) undermine any confidence in the Bible as a whole?

I found this excerpt interesting. Keller doesn’t give a slam dunk answer to Bashir’s question, but he does make what I consider some very important points. These points may direct us to a more complete answer.

1:40-2:18 If you decide that Jesus is who he said he is, then Jesus himself looks at the rest of the bible with the greatest respect. Almost every book of the older testament, the Hebrew scriptures is actually quoted by Jesus authoritatively. … If Jesus is who he said he is then you have to look at the whole bible because Jesus himself took it as authoritatively. If Jesus is not who he said he is, who cares about the rest of the bible because that means that the core of it isn’t true.

And then near the end of the clip:

5:20 – 5:26 Normally what people do is they read very superficially the Old Testament, they see all these horrible things happening, and they say this is a bunch of, this is a crock. And the answer is, they haven’t really learned how to read it.

Take the Old Testament Seriously! I think Keller is absolutely right that if Jesus is who he said he is we must take the Old Testament very seriously. The entire sweep of the Old Testament points toward Jesus. And Jesus saw himself, as N. T. Wright points out quite persuasively in many of his talks and his books, as the culmination of the sweep of the Hebrew scripture. His actions, deeds, and words only make sense in this context. And in this context they make complete sense. Wright’s The Challenge of Jesus is a good place to start here.

This does not mean that we must ignore questions of genre and authorship when we look at the scripture. Too often evangelicals are all wrapped up in a theory of scripture and argue rather piddling points to shore up their theory of scripture (Jonah, Job, Babel, Authorship of the Pentateuch, of Isaiah, of Daniel … ) as an argument for … resurrection! And in the process they totally skip over the actual sweep of the narrative. We are left with a picture of scripture as a bunch of disjointed stories and tidbits of prophecy we must believe (God does not lie), but they bear no theological weight beyond this supernatural proof.

Jesus took the Hebrew Scripture seriously, but we too often don’t – even in our most conservative churches.

I think (although others may wish to argue differently) that if we actually take the sweep of scripture seriously and read it with this narrative in mind, many of the arguments leveled against Christian faith would be far less potent, both for those raised within the church and for those with no background in the church at all.

There are a number of different questions we could raise for discussion.

Do you think that Keller makes a good case for the reliability of the Gospels?

Is he right that this is where we should concentrate our efforts, at least initially?

Is it reasonable to ignore the problem passages on a first go – especially those like 1 Timothy 2?

What does it mean to take the Old Testament as seriously as Jesus took it?

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

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How much Torah for Christians?

February 25, 2013 By Scot McKnight

When the apostles gathered in Jerusalem for the first-ever church council, recorded in Acts 15, the debate centered around one issue: Should Gentile converts to faith in Jesus be required to be circumcised in order to be full members of God’s People? After all, they reasoned, circumcision was an eternal commandment from the days of Abraham on. At the time Gentiles who half-converted to Judaism were called “Godfearers” (Yireh Elohim). Those who moved beyond the Godfearers were called “Converts” (Gerim), and to be a convert one had to experience the covenant blade. (An early modern circumcision knife is seen to the left.)

What does the view proposed below say about Gentile Christians and the Torah today?

One apostle after another had his say about what should happen, but it was settled by Jesus’ brother, James, who restricted Gentile obligations to the Torah to four items, and the big conclusion was that they could be full converts without circumcision, nothing less than a breathtaking, radical, equalizing conclusion… but they did stipulate four obligations for Gentile converts:

You are to abstain from food sacrificed to idols, from blood, from the meat of strangled animals and from sexual immorality (Acts 15:29).

There’s some debate about these, whether they are just concessions expected from Gentiles or actual Torah stipulations for Gentiles who dwell in the Land, which means they would classify the Gentile converts as “resident aliens” (Torah category) instead of the more recent Jewish category of “Convert.” That, at least, is one reading. I’m inclined to think this is not on the best reading but the only reading that makes good sense. Acts 15:29 is connected to resident alien laws in Leviticus 17 and 18, and here are the texts:

Lev. 17:8    “Say to them: ‘Any Israelite or any foreigner residing among them who offers a burnt offering or sacrifice 9 and does not bring it to the entrance to the tent of meeting to sacrifice it to the LORD must be cut off from the people of Israel.

Lev. 17:10    “ ‘I will set my face against any Israelite or any foreigner residing among them who eats blood, and I will cut them off from the people.

Lev. 17:12 Therefore I say to the Israelites, “None of you may eat blood, nor may any foreigner residing among you eat blood.”

Lev. 17:13    “ ‘Any Israelite or any foreigner residing among you who hunts any animal or bird that may be eaten must drain out the blood and cover it with earth,

Lev. 18:26 But you must keep my decrees and my laws. The native-born and the foreigners residing among you must not do any of these detestable things,

If this is the best interpretation, then Gentile converts — I would be in this class of people — are to follow these items not because they are concessions to Jewish scruples but because they are Torah for Gentiles. This is a huge conclusion, and it has been argued in brief by Richard Bauckham in his chp 16 in D. Rudolph, J. Willitts, Introduction to Messianic Judaism.

I have myself wondered aloud and in print if Paul ignored Acts 15 when he got into the Diaspora (after all, Acts 15: 29 is about Gentiles in the Land), but at least for this post we’ve got something to discuss: What would this view say for Gentiles and their relationship to the Torah? Was the apostolic decree for Gentile converts in the Land or for Gentile converts even in the Diaspora?

The Parable about Hell

January 24, 2013 By Scot McKnight

Jesus tells a parable in Luke 16:19-31, the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, and I wish to offer some comments on that parable today. Here’s the parable:

Luke 16:19    “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. 20 At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores 21 and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.

Luke 16:22    “The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. 23 In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. 24 So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’

Luke 16:25    “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. 26 And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’

Luke 16:27    “He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, 28 for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’

Luke 16:29    “Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’

Luke 16:30    “ ‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’

Luke 16:31    “He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’ ”

By way of commentary I want to bring in Richard Bauckham’s excellent article from 1991 (New Testament Studies 37 [1991] 225-246).

First, the parable has traditionally been used by many to describe the true nature of the afterlife because the parable is from Jesus — what he describes is here is because he knows what goes on there. Bauckham’s article suggests — argues — that this parable shares important folkloric motifs from Egypt, Rome, Greece and the Land of Israel. In other words, while there does not appear to be any direct parallel, or at least any parable from which Jesus borrowed, the motifs were common enough to have been familiar to Jesus and his hearers when he told the story. To the degree the motifs are folkloric they may not be descriptive of the actual nature of the afterlife.

Second, the major motifs of this parable are Reversal of life’s conditions, the attempt to gain information from someone who is dead about the afterlife, and the refusal to let that kind of revelation occur.

Third, and I think this is a major contribution by Bauckham, the parable does not explain the whys of the reversal. In other words, unlike other folkloric stories like this parable, there is no moralizing. The rich man is not condemned for any reason; the poor man is not exalted for any reason — it is not that the rich man refused to help while the poor man was good and honest and a man of good deeds. For Bauckham it is that the conditions of this life — one marked by great inequity and inequality and therefore of indulgence and suffering — will be reversed. Justice will come someday.

Finally, the parable contrasts with the arrangement of similar motifs in the other accounts in such a way that we see meaning in differences — it is surprising there is no communication from the realm of the dead since that happened in other stories. As such, the parable lays great weight on Jesus’ own judgment: injustice will be made right someday.

I would argue there is some moralizing: the rich man does not respond to the poor man’s begging. Jesus lays that man at the rich man’s feet and the rich man does not respond. Furthermore, the improper uses of riches are at work in the beginning of this cup, and even if one doesn’t want to say they were in the “historical” context of this parable, they are at work in the text of Luke and they are at work in the larger context of Jesus’ own ministry. So, Yes, injustice reversed but Jesus seems to lay blame on the rich for not responding to the poor.

The poverty and suffering of the poor are intolerable. Who’s to blame? For this cup, the rich. That seems to me to be a kind of moralizing and a kind of call to repentance, not unlike Zacchaeus.

Is Roman Catholic Theology Biblical Theology?

July 27, 2012 By Scot McKnight

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

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

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

Is the descent into hell biblical? It is clearly important to the Creed and in Catholic theology. Is the resurrection of Jesus the result of faith or did Jesus’ body come back to life in history? How biblically justifiable is this, but this entails a question for many about how historical it is? (more…)

In the Interlude 1

December 8, 2011 By Scot McKnight

We earth-dwellers are in the interlude between ecological constraint and ecological catastrophe. Formerly our powers were so limited we lived on earth inside natural constraints; the scientific and technological revolutions, while blessing us immensely, have also given us capacities to exploit creation. We are in the interlude. This interlude observation is from George Monbiot as quoted in Richard Bauckham’s newest book, Living with Other Creatures: Green Exegesis and Theology (Baylor, 2011).

How do we live in the interlude? How do Christians live in the interlude?

It is easy to get into an argument about global warming, but there’s not much argument about what the Christian nations did to the forests of Kenya and Haiti (see Paul Farmer, Mountains Beyond Mountains). The name of the game was exploitation, and it was this kind of exploitation that led to the potentiality of the ecological catastrophe. But Bauckham shows that Genesis 1:26-28 has nothing to do with exploitation.

1. To be made in God’s image is to be appointed to stewardship, exercised on behalf of God and with accountability to God. If we read this text in light of the rest of Scripture, we see that humans are not just in a vertical relationship between God and creation but as horizontally related to creatures. (I first saw this in Francis Schaeffer’s little book on ecology when I was a college student.) The neglect of the horizontal is the “great ecological error of modernity” (4).

2. Humans, in Gen 2:7, are “earthy”: Adam is one with the ground as one from the ground. Notice that humans are created on Day 6 but humans do not get a day to themselves. They are created with other land creatures. (more…)

How to use the Bible in Politics 3

August 19, 2011 By Scot McKnight

Some ask questions like these: Should Christians pay taxes? Are there justifiable reasons for Christians not to pay taxes? And what does the Bible say about paying taxes? Others don’t even think to ask such questions.

Jesus was once asked about paying taxes, which was a question that got Jesus into the political world. Many have read that text (Mark 12:13-17) as well as his comment on the temple tax (Matthew 17:24-27) as indicators of how Jesus understood the relation of church and state. Richard Bauckham, in his new book, The Bible in Politics: How to Read the Bible Politically, ponders this Jesus and the taxes question with hermeneutical finesse, and he provides for us a good example of how to use the Bible when it comes to politics.

Bauckham begins with the temple tax passage (Matthew 17, see after the jump). This is a temple (half-shekel) tax for every adult male, regardless of economic status, and considered to be anchored in Exodus 30:11-16 by most (some disputed this justification of the tax). Thus, this is a divine duty: demanded by God.

Jesus’ response is an analogy: God’s relation to his people is like a king’s relation to his own children, not a king’s relation to his subjects. That is, God’s relation is more like a father than a king. “Thus Jesus’ objection is to theocratic taxation, taxing God’s people in God’s name, because it is inconsistent with the way Jesus understands the rule of God” (75). The discovery of the coin in the fish then shows that God provides for his children; God’s relation to Israel is not like a king who taxes subjects.

Jesus’ attitude toward taxes is negative, and this is understandable because of the oppressive experience of taxation. The temple authorities were wealthy, and this aggravated the temple tax for the ordinary person. Taxes were perceived as helping the rulers and not the ordinary person; they saw it as exploitation. Jesus dissociates God from that form of exploitative taxation. Jesus’ protest in the temple finds its origins in this context too. Thus, the big point: the temple authorities made the temple look like a Roman form of exploitation instead of like a fatherly God.

(more…)

How to use the Bible in Politics 2

August 17, 2011 By Scot McKnight

What about the Old Testament laws? Like the purity laws or the holiness codes? Can they be used in political discourse? for laws in our land? Are they just passe? If these are God’s laws are they God laws for all time, for all people, in all places?

Richard Bauckham, in his new book, The Bible in Politics: How to Read the Bible Politically, ponders the holiness laws for Israel now found in Leviticus 19 (after the jump) as a test case for how to read the Old Testament laws for political decisions today. This is not only a tough text in itself, it is even more delicate to handle when it comes to modern politics. So, bravo for Bauckham!

Again, there are lots of details here, too many to engage, so I will do my best to sample chapter and cull out some illustrations of the points he makes.

First, the principles and illustrations. The key to the chp is v. 2: “be holy because I, the Lord your God, am holy.” Note vv. 3, 4, 10, 11, 14, 16, 18, 25, 28, 30, 31, 32, 34, 36, 37. Israel is special, set apart, covenanted to God and to God alone and God is covenanted to them, and to them alone. That’s the point of holiness. Thus, the point of the chp is the full holiness of God’s people in all they do.

What do you think of this principles worked out in illustrations? Does this turn “rules” inside out? How do you think a text like Leviticus 19 can be of use in our political world?

There are plenty of examples and there is a randomness that shows it is a sampling rather than a completeness. They examples illustrate the principle of holiness. There is also here the principle of love of neighbor (19:18), the principle of concern for the marginalized, the principle of avoiding the praxis of the pagans. Etc. This is important to Bauckham: the Torah has major principles which are applied. Thus, the Decalogue is principles, and examples follow for chapters after it. They work out the principles. Judicial cases in the Torah are examples as well. The Torah is not complete.

Bauckham is not keen on the distinction between cultic, moral and civil laws. Gleaning does not illustrate private charity vs. government charity because the distinction between private and public is unknown to the Torah. What is good for one is good for all (except for special laws for priests, etc.). Gleaning is a culturally specific illustration of love of neighbor by providing for those in need. It is designed to protect the poor and to remind the owner that God owns the land — that is, that what we have is not “ours” but God’s. (more…)

How to use the Bible in Politics 1

August 15, 2011 By Scot McKnight

About ten days back we looked at someone who uses the Bible “biblicistically,” to use the terms of Christian Smith’s book, while today we want to look at one who uses the Bible in politics with hermeneutical savvy, and he is one of the world’s finest New Testament scholars, Richard Bauckham. His book is called: The Bible in Politics: How to Read the Bible Politically.

Bauckham is incapable of writing anything without finesse, but a blog post can’t capture all of what an author writes so I will merely sketch his big ideas. To begin with, when we read the Bible for politics we encounter a major issue immediately: the relationship of the Old Testament to the New Testament. That is, it’s easy to go to the Old Testament, find texts that support what we are looking for, and then announce with biblical bravado, “See, it’s right here in the Bible!” But, but, but… Bauckham says. Israel was a political entity and the New Testament Christians are a politically powerless minority.

Which means we have to deal with the problem of selectivity. “… this selection [or ours] has all too often been governed by expedience” (4). So, what to do? He speaks of “dispensational differences.”

1. One can argue, say, that the Sermon on the Mount advances our understanding of ethics and makes the old obsolete. So war is set aside.
2. One can argue a theocratic state can’t be a model for a state today. Those wars in the OT were for a theocratic state.

So Bauckham ponders some ways to approach these issues: (more…)