Interesting developments with the Society of Biblical Literature (SBL).  Ronald Handel of UC Berkely has recently published an article in Biblical Archaeology Review (BAR) about why he is stepping away from SBL.  He feels that SBL has slipped in their commitment to “reason” and “critical scholarship” with regards to biblical studies which has opened the door to conservatives and evangelicals to increase the dimension of faith in the conversation.  Below is the article and then SBL’s response.  Fascinating…

BAR  36:04, Jul/Aug 2010

Biblical Views: Farewell to SBL

Faith and Reason in Biblical Studies
By Ronald S. Hendel

“The heart has its reasons, which reason does not know.” This famous line from Pascal’s Pensées draws a wise distinction between religious faith and intellectual inquiry. The two have different motivations and pertain to different domains of experience. They are like oil and water, things that do not mix and should not be confused. Pascal was a brilliant mathematician, and he did not allow his Catholic beliefs to interfere with his scholarly investigations. He regarded the authority of the church to be meaningless in such matters. He argued that “all the powers in the world can by their authority no more persuade people of a point of fact than they can change it.”1 That is to say, facts are facts, and faith has no business dealing in the world of facts. Faith resides in the heart and in one’s way of living in the world.

In the same year as the appearance of the Pensées (1670), another book appeared that changed the practice of Biblical scholarship—Spinoza’s Theological-Political Treatise. In it he showed that the Bible can be the subject of systematic rational inquiry. In the course of his study, he gave persuasive reasons to show that Moses could not have written the Pentateuch. For this and other conclusions, Spinoza was branded a heretic and his book was widely condemned. But Biblical scholarship persisted, and over the last few centuries it has become a full-blooded academic field. Pascal would not have been happy with Spinoza’s conclusions, but in a curious way they agreed on the careful distinction between the paths of faith and reason.

Let’s fast forward to the present. My focus is the Society of Biblical Literature (SBL), the main organization for Biblical scholarship in North America. In recent years it has changed its position on the relationship between faith and reason in the study of the Bible. I think that it has forgotten the lessons of both Pascal and Spinoza, and is falling into a confused domain of dissension and hypocrisy. The problem, as I understand it, has to do with money.

SBL used to share its annual meeting with the major American organizations for Near Eastern archaeology (the American Schools of Oriental Research, ASOR) and for the study of religion (the American Association of Religion, AAR). But due to petty disputes among the leaders of these groups, ASOR and AAR have dissolved their links with SBL. In order to keep up its numbers at its annual meeting, SBL has reached out to evangelical and fundamentalist groups, promising them a place within the SBL meeting. So instead of distinguished academic organizations like ASOR and AAR in the fold, we now have fundamentalist groups like the Society of Pentecostal Studies and the Adventist Society for Religious Studies as our intimate partners. These groups now hold SBL sessions at the annual meeting. The participation of these and other groups presumably boosts attendance—and SBL’s income—to previous levels.

What’s wrong with bringing in such groups? Well, some of them proselytize at the SBL meetings. One group invited some Jewish scholars to their session, asked them if they observed the Sabbath, and handed them materials intended to convert them. And recently the SBL online book review journal (Review of Biblical Literature) has featured explicit condemnations of the ordinary methods of critical scholarly inquiry, extolling instead the religious authority of orthodox Christian faith. Listen to this, from Bruce Waltke, widely regarded as the dean of evangelical Biblical studies:

By their faith in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, [evangelical scholars] … hear the voice of higher biblical criticism, which replaces faith in God’s revelation with faith in the sufficiency of human reason, as the grating of an old scratched record.  Review of Michael V. Fox, Proverbs 10–31 (Anchor Yale Bible), in Review of Biblical Literature (http://bookreviews.org/pdf/7219_7855.pdf)

This is a quaintly stated position, which directly attacks the applicability of human reason to the study of the Bible. Instead of reason, “faith in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob”—as interpreted by evangelical scholars—should be the rule in Biblical scholarship. Waltke dismisses critical inquiry as an annoying nuisance, like the scratchy sound of an old LP. This is in the midst of a review of a brilliant scholarly commentary on the Book of Proverbs, written by a Jewish scholar, in the Anchor Yale Bible series.

On the one hand, I give Waltke the respect he has earned as a scholar, and I am happy to listen to his views. But when he says such rationally absurd things as “the factual data validates Solomon’s authorship of Prov[erbs] 1:1–24:33” (which belongs to a post-Solomonic stratum of Hebrew, as Waltke ought to know), and when he asserts that Moses wrote the laws of Deuteronomy (which are written in post-Mosaic Hebrew), we are clearly not in the world of critical Biblical scholarship at all. This is religious dogma, plain and simple.

Why is this a problem? Certainly Waltke is entitled to his views. The problem is that the SBL has loosened its own definition of Biblical scholarship, such that partisan attacks of this type are now entirely valid. When I learned of the new move to include fundamentalist groups within the SBL, I wrote to the director and cited the mission statement in the SBL’s official history: “The object of the Society is to stimulate the critical investigation of the classical biblical literatures.”3 The director informed me that in 2004 the SBL revised its mission statement and removed the phrase “critical investigation” from its official standards. Now the mission statement is simply to “foster biblical scholarship.” So critical inquiry—that is to say, reason—has been deliberately deleted as a criterion for the SBL. The views of creationists, snake-handlers and faith-healers now count among the kinds of Biblical scholarship that the society seeks to foster.

The battle royal between faith and reason is now in the center ring at the SBL circus. While the cultured despisers of reason may rejoice—including some postmodernists, feminists4 and eco-theologians—I find it dispiriting. I don’t want to belong to a professional society where people want to convert me, and where they hint in their book reviews that I’m going to hell. As a scholar of the humanities—and I might add, as a Jew—I do not feel at home in such a place. What to do? Well, I’ve let my membership in SBL lapse. Maybe that’s a cowardly response, but sometimes, as Shakespeare wrote, “The better part of valor is discretion.” Sometimes it’s reasonable to avoid conflict. And like Pascal and Spinoza, I’m partial to reason in matters of scholarship. But my heart, for reasons of its own, gently grieves.

http://www.bib-arch.org/bar/article.asp?PubID=BSBA&Volume=36&Issue=04&ArticleID=09&Page=0&UserID=0&

Discussing Faith and Reason in Biblical Studies

Professor Ronald S. Hendel recently published an opinion piece in Biblical Archaeology Review (see “Farewell to SBL: Faith and Reason in Biblical Studies,” available online here) in which he argues that “[in] recent years [SBL] has changed its position on the relationship between faith and reason in the study of the Bible.” We encourage all SBL members and other interested individuals to read the article in its entirety, then to join a conversation about the SBL and its standards for membership and organizational affiliations (see further below).

The questions that Professor Hendel raises are interesting and important, and we look forward to the discussion that follows. However, we first must clarify a few points of fact with regard to the article in question. In what follows, each “claim” is a summary of one of Professor Hendel’s main points, not a verbatim quotation.

Claim: The SBL has diluted its standards of critical scholarship, as evidenced in the 2004 change to the Society mission statement.

Clarification: The Society’s mission has been changed a number of times, but in no case did such a revision reflect a decreased commitment to the standards of academic excellence, nor did the changes dilute the standards of critical scholarship. One iteration of the Society mission, quoted in Hans Dieter Betz’s 1997 presidential address, seems worthy of consideration here. The SBL’s purpose includes “stimulat[ing] the critical investigation of biblical literature … [and] widen[ing] the conversation partners of all interested in biblical literature” (JBL 117 [1998]: 4). Throughout its history, the SBL has seen no inherent contradiction between “critical investigation” and including in the conversation “all interested in biblical literature,” a perspective that is consistent with the SBL’s current mission statement: “to foster biblical scholarship.” In short, “critical inquiry—that is to say, reason” has not been “deliberately deleted” from the SBL mission. SBL has never “removed the phrase ‘critical investigation’” from any initiative.

Claim: ASOR and AAR stopped meeting with the SBL “due to petty disputes among the leaders of these groups.”

Clarification: ASOR began meeting independently from the SBL in the late 1990s and has reaffirmed on several occasions since then its preference for a meeting in the same locale and just prior to, but independent of, the SBL Annual Meeting. In 2003, the AAR decided unilaterally to discontinue its joint meeting with the SBL. The SBL was informed of this decision at the same time as AAR members, who had no voice in the decision. Very soon after that decision, AAR began an intense review of the decision. In fact, part of the review led to the decision to meet in San Francisco at the same time, since SBL had already contracted to meet there. Since then, the SBL has worked tirelessly to restore a return to meeting in the same city and at the same time. In sum, the issues of SBL’s past and future partnerships with ASOR and AAR are complex and not due simply to “petty disputes among leaders.”

Claim: Since the AAR decision to discontinue joint meetings, the SBL has loosened its standards as to the types of organizations that can be included at the SBL Annual Meeting.

Clarification: The presence of affiliate organizations at the Annual Meeting has a long history, as evidenced by the 2001 program book’s listing of 237 “additional meetings” (i.e., meetings by groups other than AAR- or SBL-sponsored program units), some of which were sponsored by confessionally oriented or denominationally based groups. Further, even granting that the Society for (not “of”) Pentecostal Studies began meeting with the SBL only recently, one doubts that they would agree that they are “fundamentalist,” in light of the prominence they give to their dialogues with the Faith and Order Commission of the National Council of Churches U.S.A., the Wesleyan Theological Society, and the Roman Catholic Church. Finally, the Adventist Society for Religious Studies, the second example provided, began meeting with the SBL-AAR in 1972 and became part of the Annual Meeting program in 1993. The ASRS has met with the SBL continually. Suffice it to say that the ASRS’s meeting with the SBL is by no means a recent development, let alone somehow related to a claimed loosening of standards.

Claim: The current SBL environment, which includes instances of proselytizing activity as well as veiled theological denunciations of certain individuals or groups, is hostile to a critical approach to biblical studies.

Clarification: Although SBL invites vigorous discussion of all relevant topics, proselytizing activity is neither welcome nor permitted in SBL-sponsored events and publications and is inconsistent with the SBL’s core values: accountability, inclusiveness, collaboration, leadership in biblical scholarship, collegiality, productivity, commitment, responsiveness to change, communication, scholarly integrity, efficiency, and tolerance. Consequently, any instances of proselytizing activity should be reported to SBL staff. Further, we are unaware of any RBL reviews that even “hint” that anyone is “going to hell.” If any SBL member can point us to such a review, we will immediately remove the review and disavow its sentiments.

Discussion: We invite all SBL members to respond to the issues that have been raised. Please send your responses to this email address. All responses will be vetted before being posted to the SBL website; comments containing personal attacks or disparaging remarks about any group or individual will not be posted. Among the type of issues that might be discussed:

• To what extent do you believe that the Society successfully balances its commitment to scholarly integrity while maintaining an atmosphere in which all voices may be heard (specific, first-hand examples are encouraged)?

• Should the Society establish a standards-based approach to membership? That is, should there be a set of minimum standards, qualifications, or achievements for SBL membership?

• If you favor a standards-based approach, what specific standards would you advocate for SBL membership?

http://www.sbl-site.org/membership/farewell.aspx

If you feel you are out of the loop with regards to the recent discussions about the doctrine of justification in Pauline theology, particularly the writings of E.P. Sanders, James Dunn, and N.T. Wright I would suggest checking out thepaulpage.com and Monergism.com‘s “New Perspective” section. For many N.T. Wright sources there is also the ntwrightpage.com.

Click here to browse the book or here for the PDF.

If the main focus of a sermon is to preach Christ, what do we do with the book of Proverbs and a host of other Biblical texts that seem to focus on wisdom for life, or our own personal growth in holiness, etc? That’s the focus of this edition of the White Horse Inn as Michael Horton talks with Dennis Johnson about his new book, Him We Proclaim: Preaching Christ in All the Scriptures.

This is interview is a great primer on what it means to preach/teach a passage in it’s historical-redemptive context. Josh has been focusing on this book and this topic over at his blog as he has been studying with some friends at his church. This book is a bit on the lengthy side for most people, but in it Johnson clearly lays out the issues, options, and methods of historical-redemptive biblical theology. Even if you are on interested in his book, his interview at the White Horse Inn is worth your time.

The only deficiency I observed in the interview was the lack of discussion on the nature of typology and how it should be distinguished from allegory. The book makes up for that lack, however, so I do not hold it against Johnson; the interview was only 25 minutes after all.

Here is the link to the audio.

Here is an essay by Gerhard Forde, former Professor of Theology at Luther Seminary, now with the Lord. He represents the Lutheran view in the book, Christian Spirituality: Five Views of Sanctification (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 1988). This is a riveting piece by Forde that I believe is must reading for everyone. Props to Danny O for bringing this to my attention, because the weight of what Forde is saying and its implications are earth-shattering. May God cause you to read with grace, joy, and freedom in the promise of God through Jesus Christ. Please post your feedback too!

SANCTIFICATION, IF IT IS TO BE SPOKEN OF AS SOMETHING other than justification is perhaps best defined as the art of getting used to the unconditional justification wrought by the grace of God for Jesus’ sake. It is what happens when we are grasped by the fact that God alone justifies. It is being made holy, and as such, it is not our work. It is the work of the Spirit who is called Holy. The fact that it is not our work puts the old Adam/Eve (our old self) to death and calls forth a new being in Christ. It is being saved from the sickness unto death and being called to new life.

In German there is a nice play on words which is hard to reproduce in English. Salvation is Das Heil—which gives the sense both of being healed and of being saved. Sanctification is Die Heiligung—which would perhaps best be translated as “being salvationed.” Sanctification is “being salvationed,” the new life arising from the catastrophe suffered by the old upon hearing that God alone saves. It is the pure flower that blossoms in the desert, watered by the unconditional grace of God.

Sanctification is thus simply the art of getting used to justification. It is not something added to justification. It is not the final defense against a justification too liberally granted. It is the justified life. It is what happens when the old being comes up against the end of its self-justifying and self-gratifying ways, however pious. It is life lived in anticipation of the resurrection.

As such, sanctification is likely not the kind of life that we (old beings!) would wish, much as we might prattle piously about it and protest about how necessary it is. For the most part we make the mistake of equating sanctification with what we might call the moral life. As old beings we get nervous when we hear about justification by grace alone, faith alone, and worry that it will lead to moral laxity. So we say we have to “add” sanctification too, or we have to get on to what is really important, living the “sanctified life.” And by that we usually mean living morally.

Now, living morally is indeed an important, wise and good thing. There is no need to knock it. But it should not be equated with sanctification, being made holy. The moral life is the business of the old being in this world. The Reformers called it “civil righteousness.” Sanctification is the result of the dying of the old and the rising of the new. The moral life is the result of the old being’s struggle to climb to the heights of the law. Sanctification has to do with the descent of the new being into humanity, becoming a neighbor, freely, spontaneously, giving of the self in self-forgetful and uncalculating ways. “But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you” (Mt 6:3-4). Sanctification is God’s secret, hidden (perhaps especially!) even from the “sanctified.” The last thing the sanctified would do would be to talk about it or make claims about achieving it. One would be more likely, with Paul, to talk about one’s weaknesses.

No, sanctification is not the kind of thing we would seek. I expect we don’t really want it, and perhaps rarely know when it is happening to us. It is the work of the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life. It is given to us in the buffeting about, the sorrows, the joys, the sufferings and the tasks of daily life. As Ernest Becker rightly put it in his classic work (that ought to be read by everyone interested in the question of “salvationing” today) The Denial of Death, the hardest thing is not even the death, but the rebirth, because it means that for the first time we shall have to be reborn not as gods but as human beings, shorn of all our defenses, projects and claims.1 Can flowers bloom in this desert? Can we survive and get used to justification? Can we live as though it were true? That is the question.

The Argument

Talk about sanctification is dangerous. It is too seductive for the old being. What seems to have happened in the tradition is that sanctification has been sharply distinguished from justification, and thus separated out as the part of the “salvationing” we are to do. God alone does the justifying simply by declaring the ungodly to be so, for Jesus’ sake. Most everyone is willing to concede that, at least in some fashion. But, of course, then comes the question: what happens next? Must not the justified live properly? Must not justification be safeguarded so it will not be abused? So sanctification enters the picture supposedly to rescue the good ship Salvation from shipwreck on the rocks of Grace Alone. Sanctification, it seems, is our part of the bargain. But, of course, once it is looked on that way, we must be careful not to undo God’s justifying act in Christ. So sanctification must be absolutely separated from justification. God, it seems, does his part, and then we do ours.

The result of this kind of thinking is generally disastrous. We are driven to make an entirely false distinction between justification and sanctification in order to save the investment the old being has in the moral system. Justification is a kind of obligatory religious preliminary which is rendered largely ineffective while we talk about getting on with the truly “serious” business of becoming “sanctified” according to some moral scheme or other. We become the actors in sanctification. This is entirely false. According to Scripture, God is always the acting subject, even in sanctification. The distinction serves only to leave the old being in control of things under the guise of pious talk.

On the level of human understanding, the problem is we attempt to combine the unconditional grace of God with our notions of continuously existing and acting under the law. In other words, the old being does not come up against its death, but goes on pursuing its projects, perhaps a little more morally or piously, but still on its of the old subject and the resurrection of a new one, not the continuous existence of the old. Unconditional grace calls forth a new being in Christ. But the old being sees such unconditional grace as dangerous and so protects its continuity by “adding sanctification.” It seeks to stave off the death involved by becoming “moral.”

Sanctification thus becomes merely another part of its self-defense against grace. Justification is rendered more or less harmless. Talk about sanctification can be dangerous in that it misleads and seduces the old being into thinking it is still in control. We may grudgingly admit we cannot justify ourselves, but then we attempt to make up for that by getting serious about sanctification.

Even under the best of conditions, talk about sanctification in any way apart from justification is dangerous. It has a tendency to become a strictly verbal exercise in which one says obligatory things to show one is “serious about it”—but little comes of the discussion. Perhaps one feels sanctified just by talking impressively about it. The result of such talk is what I like to call “the magnificent hot-air balloon syndrome.” One talks impressively about sanctification, and we all get beguiled by the rhetoric and agree. “Yes, of course, we all ought to do that,” and the balloon begins to rise into the religious stratosphere solely on the strength of its own hot air. It is something like bragging about prowess in love and sex. It is mostly hot air and rarely accomplishes anything more for the hearers than arousing anxiety or creating the illusion that they somehow can participate vicariously. We got started in that direction even in the above exercise in this thesis when we talked about how sanctification is “spontaneous,” “free,” “self-forgetful,” “self-giving,” “uncalculating” and all those nice things. Dangerous talk. Dangerous because, like love, none of those things can actually be produced by us in any way. Theology indeed obligates us to talk about them, to attempt accurate description, but unless we know the dangers and limitations of such descriptions, it leads only to presumption or despair. So let the reader beware!

And so at the very least, we can say that sanctification cannot in any way be separated from justification. It is not merely a logical mistake, but a spiritually devastating one. In fact, the Scriptures rarely, if ever, treat sanctification as a movement distinct from justification. In writing to the Christians at Corinth, for instance, Paul refers to them as “those sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ”; and later, he refers to the God who chooses what is low and despised in the world, even the things that are not, as the source of our life in Christ Jesus, “whom God made our wisdom, our righteousness and sanctification and redemption,” so that whoever boasts should boast in the Lord (1 Cor 1:2, 28-31 RSV).

To the Thessalonians Paul writes that they have been chosen by God from the beginning “to be saved through the sanctifying work of the Spirit and through belief in the truth” (2 Thess 2:13). Hebrews says that “we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all” (Heb 10:10 RSV). Sanctification appears in Scripture to be roughly equivalent to other words for the salvation wrought by God in Christ, a phrase which designates another facet or dimension of sanctification, but never calls it something distinct or logically different from justification. J. K. S. Reid is right when he concludes, “It is tempting for the sake of logical neatness to make a clean division between the two [justification and sanctification] but the temptation must be resisted, if in fact the division is absent from Holy Scripture.”2

It is difficult to escape the suspicion that the distinction between justification and sanctification is strictly a dogmatic one made because people got nervous about what would happen when unconditional grace was preached, especially in Reformation times. Doesn’t justification do away with good works? Who will be good if they hear about justification by faith alone? So the anxious questions went. Sanctification was “added” as something distinct in order to save the enterprise from supposed disaster. But dogmatic distinctions don’t save us from disaster. More likely than not, they only make matters worse.

Justification by Faith Alone

It becomes clear, then, that we cannot talk about sanctification without first saying something about justification. The difficulty we have arises because justification by faith alone, without the deeds of the law, is a mighty breakup of the ordinary schemes of morality and religion; a mighty attack, we should say, on the theology of the old being. The fact that we are justified before God—the eternal Judge, Creator and Preserver of all life—unconditionally for Jesus’ sake and by faith alone, simply shatters the old being’s entire system of values and calculations.

As old beings we don’t know what to do with an unconditional gift or promise. Virtually our entire existence in this world is shaped, determined and controlled by conditional promises and calculations. We are brought up on conditional promises. We live by them. Our future is determined by them. Conditional promises always have an “if-then” form.3 If you eat your spinach, then you get your pudding. If you are a good girl, then you can go to the movies. If you do your schoolwork, then you will pass the course. If you do your job, then you will get your pay. If you prove yourself, then you will get a promotion. And so on and so on, endlessly until at last we die of it, wondering if we had only done this or that differently, perhaps then. . . . Though such conditional promises are often burdensome and even oppressive, they are nevertheless enticing and even comforting in their own way because they give life its structure and seem to grant us a measure of control. If we fulfill the conditions, then we have a claim on what is promised. We have what we call “rights,” and we can control our future, at least to a certain extent.

So, as old beings, we hang rather tenaciously onto these conditional promises. As a matter of fact, that is what largely characterizes our being in this world as old. We hang desperately onto the conditional promises, hoping to control our own destiny. We live “under the law” and cannot get out—because we really don’t want to. We prefer to go our own way even up to the last barrier: death. And there we must either hope that the conditionality ends and all account books simply close, or perhaps we make the fatal mistake of thinking that we can extend our control under the conditional promise even into the beyond. We think we have a claim on heaven itself if the proper conditions are met. Religion is most often just the attempt to extend this conditionality into eternity and to gain a certain measure of control even over the eternal itself.

But the saving act of God in Jesus Christ—comprehended in justification by faith alone—is an unconditional promise. Unconditional promises have a “because-therefore” form. Because Jesus has overcome the world and all enemies by his death and resurrection, therefore (and only for that reason) you shall be saved. Because Jesus died and rose, therefore God here and now declares you just for Jesus’ sake (not even for your sake, but for Jesus’ sake). Because Jesus has borne the sin of the whole world in his body unto death and yet conquered, therefore God declares the forgiveness of our sins.

Now, of course, as old beings we have a desperately difficult time with such an unconditional promise. It knocks everything out of kilter. We simply don’t know how to cope with it, so we are thrown into confusion. Is it really true? Can one announce it just like that? No strings attached? Don’t we have to be more careful about to whom we say such things? It appears wild and dangerous and reckless to us, just as it did to Jesus’ contemporaries. The best we can do is to try to draw it back into our conditional understanding—so all the questions and protests come pouring out. But surely we have to do something, don’t we? Don’t we at least have to make our decision to accept? Isn’t faith, after all, a condition? Or repentance? Isn’t the idea of an unconditional promise terribly dangerous? Who will be good? Won’t it lead perhaps to universalism, libertinism, license and sundry disasters? Don’t we need to insist on sanctification to prevent the whole from collapsing into cheap grace? Doesn’t the Bible follow the declaration of grace with certain exhortations and imperatives? So the protestations go, for the most part designed to reimpose at least a minimal conditionality on the promise.

It is crucial to see that here we have arrived at the decisive point which will entirely determine how we look at what we call sanctification. It is true, you see, that as old beings we simply cannot understand or cope with the unconditional promise of justification pronounced in the name of Jesus. ‘What we don’t see is that what the unconditional promise is calling forth is a new being. The justification of God promised in Jesus is not an “offer” made to us as old beings; it is our end, our death. We are, quite literally, through as old beings. To use the vernacular, we have “had it.” All the questions and protests that we raise are really just the death rattle of the old Adam and Eve who sense that their kingdom is under radical and final attack. No doubt that is why the defense is so desperate, and why it even quite innocently takes such pious and well-meaning forms.

But isn’t the unconditional promise dangerous? Of course it is! After all, look what happened to Jesus! It is the death of us one way or another. Either we stick in our conditionality and go to that death which is eternal, or we are put to death to be raised to new and eternal life in the one who lives eternally. The point is that when we come up against the danger and radicality of the unconditional promise, the solution is not to fall back on conditionality but simply to be drawn into the death and resurrection of Jesus. The old being cannot survive the promise, the promise which makes new beings out of nothing. God is the one who calls into being that which is from that which is not. The new being finds its center now not in itself, but in Jesus.

One has only to follow out the argument in Romans to see Paul clearly developing this point. The law, the conditional promise, did not stop sin; it only made it worse. As a matter of fact, the law was given to show sin as sinful beyond measure, a bottomless pit, an endless hall of mirrors. But where sin abounded, grace abounded all the more! But isn’t such argument terribly dangerous? Aren’t all the careful barriers built against sin suddenly destroyed? Doesn’t one come perilously close to saying that sin is somehow presupposed by or even necessary for grace? Couldn’t one then justly say, “Well then, shall we not sin the more that grace may abound?” It is a serious question and one that has to be raised. As a matter of fact, if the question isn’t raised, one probably hasn’t yet grasped the radical hilaritas, the joy of grace. No doubt, it is the old being’s last question prior to its death. But what is the answer? It does not lie in returning to the law, to conditionality, but rather in the death of the old.

Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means! We died to sin; how can we live in it any longer? Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. If we have been united with him like this in his death, we will certainly also be united with him in his resurrection. For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin—because anyone who has died has been freed from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus. (Rom 6: 1-11)

Actually, all evangelical treatment of sanctification should be little more than comment on this passage. The end to sin is death, not following the law, not moral progress, not even “sanctification” as the old Adam or Eve thinks of it. To sin the more that grace may increase is, of course, absurd and impossible precisely because of the death. To do so would mean to will to return to sin in order to get more grace. That would be like a lover desiring to return to the state of unloving in order to experience falling in love again. Quite impossible! How can one who has died to sin still live in it? The movement is simply irreversible if one catches a glimpse of what the grace is all about.

Furthermore, it is crucial to note that Paul does not tell his readers that they have to get busy now and die. He announces the startling and unconditional fact that we have died. It is not a task to be accomplished. All who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death, so that out of that death may come newness of life, just like and as sure as the resurrection of Christ. Sin is a slavery from which we escape only through that death. Only one who has died is free from sin. There’ is no other way. The old self has been crucified so that the sinful body might also be destroyed and we might at last be set free. There is no continuity of the old self to be carried over here. Christ now becomes our life.

Just the sheer and unconditional announcement “You have died!”— the uncompromising insistence that there is nothing to do now, that God has made his last move—just that, and that alone, is what puts the old being to death, precisely because there is nothing for the old being to do. The God who says, “I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy,” has decided to do just that through the death and resurrection of Jesus. There is no way for the old being to do anything about such grace. The unconditional justification, the grace itself, slays the old self and destroys its “body of sin” so as to fashion a new one. It is all over! Christ being raised from the dead will never die again. One can’t go back and repeat it. He died to sin once for all, and now he lives to God. Conclusion? You can now only consider yourself dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus!

So, when we come to the decisive and crucial point about justification and the unconditional promise of grace, it is imperative to see that God is at work making new beings through this (to us) shocking act. The answer to all our questions, to the “death rattle” questions of the old Adam or Eve, lies not in falling back on conditionality, but in learning to cope with death and resurrection. All the questions must therefore be answered with a confident yes.

Do you mean to say we don’t have to do anything? Yes! Just listen! Do you mean to say that even faith is not a condition, nor is making our decision, nor repentance? Yes! Faith is a gift. It comes by hearing. It is the Spirit’s work. It is a being grasped by the unconditional promise, a being caught by the sheer newness and joy of it, a being carried by the Word of Grace. But is not such unconditional promise dangerous? Yes, I suppose it is in this evil age. After all, Jesus got killed for it! But God has apparently decided to take the risk, and sealed it by raising Jesus from the dead. “Wake up, 0 sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you” (Eph 5:14).

But do you mean to say we can’t say no? That kind of question is, of course, the trickiest of the old Adam or Eve. But in spite of everything, it must be answered with a confident yes—from the point of view of the new being. The old Adam or Eve will, of course, only say no, can really only say no. The old Adam or Eve wants to remain in control of the matter and so says no even while wanting to say yes.

So saying no is not an option? Perhaps the best answer would be, “What do you want to do that for?” It would be like arriving at the altar for the wedding and answering the big question. “Do you take…” with, “Do you mean to say I can’t say no?” If we see at all what is going on, we would see that even here the answer finally has got to be yes: “Yes, I don’t see how you can say no!” The new being by definition is one who says yes. One is not forced here, one is made new, saved—heart, soul, mind. One is sanctified in the truth of the unconditional promise of God.

The answer to the persistent questions of the old Adam or Eve is therefore always yes, yes, yes, until at last we die of it and begin to whisper, “Amen! So be it Lord!” Sanctification is a matter of being grasped by the unconditional grace of God and having now to live in that light. It is a matter of getting used to justification.

Simultaneously Just and Sinner

But now we must look a bit closer at how the unconditional promise—justification by faith alone—works in our lives if we are to arrive at an appropriate understanding of what we might call sanctification. The first thing to grasp is, of course, that the unconditional promise works quite differently from a conditional one. The unconditional promise, the divine decree of justification, grants everything all at once to the faith it creates. We are simply declared just for Jesus’ sake. But that means simultaneously that we are revealed to ourselves as sinners. The sin revealed is not just a misdeed, but it is precisely our lack of faith and trust over against the incredible goodness of God. The sin to be ultimately expelled is our lack of trust, our unbelief. All our impetuous questions are shown for what they are: unbelief, our reservations over against the God of grace, our fear of being made new.

And still we ask, Don’t we have to do something? You see, that is all we really planned to do—just a little something! We hadn’t counted on being made new! Just that, you see, is the sin exposed! Nevertheless, God simply declares us to be just for Jesus’ sake because that is the only thing that will help. That act of God itself finally exposes us as sinners, desperately in need of saving. So then, for the time being, we are, as Martin Luther said, simul justus et peccator, simultaneously just and sinner. It is the unconditional grace of God that makes us so. In that, we see the truth. And it is in the truth that we are sanctified. The first step on the way of sanctification is to realize that.

This is radically different from our usual, conditional thinking. Conditional thinking is wedded to the schemes of law and progress characteristic of this age. Sin is understood primarily as misdeed or transgression of such a scheme. “Sanctification” is the business of making progress in cutting down on sin according to the scheme. Holiness or righteousness could not be said to exist simultaneously with sin in the same scheme. Righteousness and sin would simply exclude each other. The more righteousness one gains, the less sin there would be. This would be measured by what one does or doesn’t do. It would be a matter of works. Grace would then have to be understood as the power to do such works, to achieve such righteousness. The logic would then be that with the help of grace one progressively gains more and more righteousness and thus sins less and less. One strives toward perfection until, theoretically, one would need less and less grace or perhaps finally no more grace at all.

But such conditional schemes pose all sorts of problems for one who wants to think and believe “in the fashion of Scripture,” as Luther called it.4 In the first place, it doesn’t fit with the divine act of justification by grace alone, by faith alone. There is no real place for justification in the scheme. If it comes at the beginning of the scheme, it makes the subsequent progress unnecessary. Why work at becoming just if you are already declared to be so? On the other hand, if justification comes at the end of the scheme, it becomes unnecessary. You don’t have to be declared just if you have already become so.

The systematic problem is that both justification by faith alone without the deeds of the law and such a scheme of sanctification cannot possibly coexist together. The tradition no doubt recognized this when it insisted on making a sharp and complete distinction between the two, at least in theory. In actual practice, however, one or the other of them generally comes to be regarded as more or less fictional or dispensable. And more likely than not, it will be justification that is so regarded. It comes to be looked upon as a decree contrary to actual fact, a kind of “as if” theology. We are regarded “as if” we were just. Or perhaps it is a kind of “temporary loan” granted until we actually earn our way. Sanctification according to this scheme takes over the center of the stage as the real and practical business of the Christian.

But this leads only to a further, more personal problem in the life of faith if one becomes honest before God. What if the scheme just doesn’t seem to work? This is the much celebrated problem of the “anxious conscience” that bothered Martin Luther. What if one is honest enough to see that one is not actually making the kind of progress the scheme proposes? I am told that grace gives the power to improve, to gain righteousness and overcome sin. I am told, furthermore, that grace is absolutely free. But what if I go to church to “get grace” and then get up the next morning and see the same old sinner, perhaps even a little bit worse, staring back at me through the mirror? What then? I am told that grace is free, and that there is nothing wrong with the “delivery system.” Not even a bad priest, minister or a faulty church can frustrate or limit the grace of God. But I don’t seem to get better. If I am in any way serious, I can only become more and more anxious. I am told that grace gives one the power to love God. But as a matter of fact I only become more and more resentful of a God who sets up such systems and makes such demands. I don’t seem to grow in love of God. I begin to hate him! The magnificent hot-air balloon bursts.

Now I face the really desperate question: Whose fault is it if the scheme doesn’t work? There are two possibilities. Either I have not properly responded to or cooperated with the free divine grace, or most frightening of all, the God of election who presides over such grace has decided, in my case, not to give it. The scheme leaves me either depending on my own abilities to respond, to remove all obstacles to grace, to “let myself go” and so forth, or it leaves me with the terrors of predestination. Usually, of course, we recoil in horror from the very thought of predestination. We piously wouldn’t want to lay the blame on God—and besides, we would then lose all control of the matter!

So all things considered, we would rather take the blame for the breakdown of the scheme on ourselves. If it didn’t work, it must be because we didn’t do something right. We didn’t repent sincerely enough; we didn’t really and truly seek him; we didn’t wholly give our hearts to Jesus; and so on. But in that case, the more we talk about “free grace” the worse it gets. When the system doesn’t work, “grace is free” turns out to mean that there is no way we can put the blame on grace. But then no matter how much we talk about the grace of God, absolutely everything then depends on us, on our sincerity, our truthfulness, the depth of our feeling, the wholeheartedness of our confession and so on. The system simply turns against us. While we live as old beings in this age, we simply cannot escape the law.

So it is impossible to put God’s unconditional act of justifying sinners for Jesus’ sake alone together with our ideas of progress based on conditions. It doesn’t work either logically or in the life of faith. That is why Martin Luther came to see that we must take a radically different approach. In place of all ordinary understandings of progress and sanctification, the true Christian life begins when we see the simultaneity of sin and righteousness. God begins with us simply by declaring us to be righteous because of Jesus. We begin to see the truth of the situation when we realize that because God had to do that, we must have been at the same time sinners. God would be wasting his breath declaring people to be righteous if they were not actually and wholly sinners! Indeed, as Paul put it, “if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing!” (Gal 2:21).

And there can be no cheating here. Since the declaration of God is total, and depends totally on what Jesus has accomplished for us, the sin simultaneously exposed is total. All the dreams, schemes and pretensions of the old Adam or Eve are unmasked in their totality. Sin, as a total state, can only be fought by faith in the total and unconditionally given righteousness. Anything other than that would lead only to hypocrisy or despair. If there is to be anything like true sanctification, it must begin with these considerations.

If our righteousness depends totally on Jesus, and is appropriated only in the relationship of trust (faith), then we can begin to see that God has two problems with us. The relationship can be broken in two ways. The first would be by our failure, our immorality, our vices. Since we lack faith and hope in God’s cause, the relationship is threatened or broken; we go our own way. That problem is usually quite obvious. But the second problem is not so obvious. It is precisely our supposed success, even our “morality,” our virtues—the relationship with God is broken to the degree that we think we don’t need the unconditional justification, or perhaps even to the degree that we think we are going to use God to achieve our own ideas of sanctity. The relationship is broken precisely because we think it is our holiness.

The first problem, our failure and immorality, is usually most easily recognized and generally condemned because it has consequences, both personally and socially. But the second problem, while generally approved in human eyes because it is advantageous and socially useful, is more dangerous before God (coram deo, as Luther put it) precisely because it is praised and sought after. It is the kind of hypocrisy Jesus criticized so vehemently in the gospels: “like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men’s bones and everything unclean” (Mt 23:27). No matter how good and useful such virtue is in the world (and we must not fail to see that it is really so and does have its place), it cannot be counted as sanctification. Those who blow their own horns when they give alms so as to be seen and admired by the public do indeed have their reward: the praise of others. But that is all they get. True sanctification is God’s secret (Mt 6:2-4).

So the first step on the way to sanctification is to see that, before the judgment of God as it comes through the crucified and risen Jesus, we are rendered totally just at the same time as we are exposed totally as sinners. Sanctification is thus included in justification as a total state. True sanctification is at the outset simply to believe that God has taken charge of the matter. ‘Where can there be more holiness than where God is revered and worshiped as the only Holy One? But God is revered as the only Holy One where the sinner, the real and total sinner, stands still and listens to God. There the sinner must realize that his or her ways are at an end. The final assault is under way. There the sinner begins to realize that neither virtue nor vice, morality nor immorality, neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything before God, but what matters is the new creation (Gal 6:15). Sanctification is not a repair job. God is after something new. He wants his creation back as new as when it came from his hand.

Progress in Sanctification: The Invasion of the New

But is there not such a thing as growth in sanctification, progress in the Christian life? No doubt there is a sense in which we can and even should speak in such fashion. But when we do, we must take care, if everything we have been saying up to this point is true. If justification by faith alone rejects all ordinary schemes of progress and renders us simultaneously just and sinners, we have to look at growth and progress in quite a different light.

That brings us back to our thesis: sanctification is the art of getting used to justification. There is a kind of growth and progress, it is to be hoped, but it is growth in grace—a growth in coming to be captivated more and more, if we can so speak, by the totality, the unconditionality of the grace of God. It is a matter of getting used to the fact that if we are to be saved it will have to be by grace alone. We should make no mistake about it: sin is to be conquered and expelled. But if we see that sin is the total state of standing against the unconditional grace and goodness of God, if sin is our very incredulity, unbelief, mistrust, our insistence on falling back on our self and maintaining control, then it is only through the total grace of God that sin comes under attack, and only through faith in that total grace that sin is defeated. To repeat: sin is not defeated by a repair job, but by dying and being raised new.

So it is always as a totality that unconditional grace attacks sin. That is why total sanctification and justification are in essence the same thing. The total sinner comes under the attack of the total gift. That is how the battle begins. How then can we talk about the progress of the battle—the transition, let us call it—from sin to righteousness, old to new?

There are, I believe, two aspects of this transition we need to talk about. The first is that since we always are confronted and given grace as a totality, we find ourselves always starting fresh. As Luther put it, “To progress is always to begin again.”5 In this life, we never quite get over grace, we never entirely grasp it, we never really learn it. It always takes us by surprise. Again and again we have to be conquered and captivated by its totality. The transition will never be completed this side of the grave. The Christian can never presume to be on the glory road, nor to reach a stage, which now forms the basis for the next stage, which can be left behind. The Christian who is grasped by the totality of grace always discovers the miracle anew. One is always at a new beginning. Grace is new everyday. Like the manna in the wilderness, it can never be bottled or stored. Yesterday’s grace turns to poison. By the same token, however, the Christian never has an endless process of sanctification to traverse. Since the totality is given, one knows that one has arrived. Christ carries the Christian totally.

Looked at from Luther’s point of view of “always beginning again,” the transition is therefore not a continuous or steady progress of the sort we could recognize. It is rather more like an oscillation between beginning and end in which both are always equally near. The end, the total gift, is constantly and steadily given. But to grasp that we have constantly to begin again—we never can get over it! It is like lovers who just can’t get over the miracle of the gift of love and so are constantly saying it over and over again as though it were completely new and previously unheard of! And so it constantly begins again.

The second aspect of the transition of the Christian from old to death to life, is that all our ordinary views of progress and growth are turned upside down. It is not that we are somehow moving toward the goal, but rather that the goal is moving closer and closer to us. This corresponds to the eschatological nature of the New Testament message. It is the coming of the kingdom upon us, not our coming closer to or building up the kingdom. That is why it is a growth in grace, not a growth in our own virtue or morality. The progress, if one can call it that, is that we are being shaped more and more by the totality of the grace coming to us. The progress is due to the steady invasion of the new. That means that we are being taken more and more off our own hands, more and more away from self, and getting used to the idea of being saved by the grace of God alone. Our sanctification consists merely in being shaped by, or getting used to, justification.

Getting used to justification means that the old Adam or Eve is being put to death, and thus, as Paul put it, “being freed from sin.” How might we conceive of this? Here we must be careful lest in our attempts to describe the matter we once again get seduced into inflating the magnificent hot-air balloon. Being freed from sin by the unconditional promise means that the totality of it begins to overwhelm and destroy our fundamental scepticism and incredulity, our unbelief. Lord, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief?” becomes our prayer (Mk 9:24). We can see light at the end of the tunnel. We begin to trust God rather than ourselves. When Martin Luther talked about these things, he began to talk more about our actual affections than lists of pious things to do.

Under the pressure of the total gift, we might actually begin to love God as God, our God, and to hate sin. Think of it: We might actually begin to dislike sin and to hope for its eventual removal. Ordinarily we feel guilty about our sins and fear their consequences, but we are far from hating them. I expect we do them, in spite of all fears and anxieties, because we like them. Sanctification under the invasion of the new, however, holds out the possibility of actually coming to hate sin, and to love God and his creation, or at least to make that little beginning. It is not that sin is taken away from us, but rather that we are to be taken away from sin—heart, soul and mind, as Luther put it.6 In that manner, the law of God is to be fulfilled in us precisely by the uncompromising totality and unconditionality of the grace given.

Sanctification always comes from the whole, the totality. Whether it takes place in little steps, in isolated actions against particular sins, in those tender beginnings, it is always because of the invasion of the new. Always the totality is intensively there—the total crisis, the entire transition, the dying and becoming new.

What is the result of this? It should lead, I expect, to something of a reversal in our view of the Christian life. Instead of viewing ourselves on some kind of journey upward toward heaven, virtue and morality, our sanctification would be viewed more in terms of our journey back down to earth, the business of becoming human, the kind of creature God made. Our problem is that we have succumbed to the serpent’s temptation, “You shall not die, you shall be as gods.” Creation is not good enough for us; we are always on our way somewhere else. So we even look on sanctification in that light—our “progress” toward being “gods” of some sort. If what we have been saying is true, however, our salvation, our sanctification, consists in turning about and going the other way, getting back down to earth. The trouble we have is that it is a long way back for us. To get there we must learn to trust God, to be grasped by the totality of his grace, to become a creature, to become human.

What might that look like? When I think about such sanctification, I think about several things: spontaneity, taking care, vocation and attaining a certain elusive kind of truthfulness and lucidity about oneself. Perhaps I can end by saying a few words about these things.

Spontaneity

What is a truly good work, one that might qualify as the fruit of sanctification? One, I think, that is free, uncalculating, genuine, spontaneous. It would be like a mother who runs to pick up her child when it is hurt. There is no calculation, no wondering about progress, morality or virtue. There is just the doing of it, and then it is completely forgotten. The right hand doesn’t know what the left is doing. Good works in God’s eyes are quite likely to be all those things we have forgotten! True sanctification is God’s secret.

Taking Care

If we are turned around to get back down to earth by grace, then it would seem that true sanctification would show itself in taking care of our neighbor and God’s creation, not exploiting and destroying either for our own ends, religious or otherwise. It would mean concern for the neighbor and society, caring for the other for the time being. Here one should talk about the place of morality and virtue and such things. Although we do not accept them as the means by which we are sanctified, they are the means by which and through which we care for the world and for the other. This is what the Reformers meant when they insisted that good works were to be done, but one was not to depend on them for salvation.

Vocation

How does the one who has died and is being made new, the one who has been taken off his or her own hands, enter into the battle in this world? The answer comes in the concept of carrying out one’s vocation as a Christian in the tasks and occupations of daily life. We always get nervous about what we are to do, it seems. The magnificent hot-air balloon syndrome seduces us into thinking our sanctification consists in following lists of pious dos and don’ts. That always seems more holy. But it is in the nitty-gritty of daily life and its tasks that our sanctification is hammered out.

Precisely because of the totality of the gift, the new being knows that there is nothing to do to gain heaven. Thus the Christian is called to the tasks of daily life in this world, for the time being. Students, for instance, are sometimes very pious and idealistic about “doing something,” and so get caught up in this or that movement “for good.” It never seems to dawn on them that perhaps for the time being, at least, their calling is simply to be a good student! It is not particularly in acts of piety that we are sanctified, but in our call to live and act as Christians.

Truthfulness and Lucidity

In many ways, this essay has been an appeal for more truthfulness in our talk about the Christian life and sanctification. I think that should be the mark of sanctification as well. As Paul put it, we are not to think of ourselves more highly than we ought (Rom 12:3).

The talk of progress and growth we usually indulge in leads us all too often to do just that. But if we are saved and sanctified only by the unconditional grace of God, we ought to be able to become more truthful and lucid about the way things really are with us. Am I making progress? If I am really honest, it seems to me that the question is odd, even a little ridiculous. As I get older and death draws nearer, it doesn’t seem to get any easier. I get a little more impatient, a little more anxious about having perhaps missed what this life has to offer, a little slower, harder to move, a little more sedentary and set in my ways. It seems more and more unjust to me that now that I have spent a good part of my life “getting to the top,” and I seem just about to have made it, I am already slowing down, already on the way out. A skiing injury from when I was sixteen years old acts up if I overexert myself. I am too heavy, the doctors tell me, but it is so hard to lose weight! Am I making progress? Well, maybe it seems as though I sin less, but that may only be because I’m getting tired! It’s just too hard to keep indulging the lusts of youth. Is that sanctification? I wouldn’t think so! One should not, I expect, mistake encroaching senility for sanctification!

But can it be, perhaps, that it is precisely the unconditional gift of grace that helps me to see and admit all that? I hope so. The grace of God should lead us to see the truth about ourselves, and to gain a certain lucidity, a certain sense of humor, a certain down-to-earliness. When we come to realize that if we are going to be saved, it shall have to be absolutely by grace alone, then we shall be sanctified. God will have his way with us at last.

Notes

1 Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death (New York: Free Press, 1973), p. 58.

2 Alan Richardson, ed., A Theological Wordbook of the Bible (New York: Macmillan, 1960), p. 218.

3 Eric Gritsch and Robert Jenson, Lutheranism: The Theological Movement and Its Confessional Writings (Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress, 1976), pp. 8, 42.

4 Martin Luther, Lectures on Romans, trans. and ed. Wilhelm Pauck, The Library of Christian Classics, vol. 15 (Philadelphia, Pa.: Westminster, 1961), p. 128.

5 Ibid., p. 370.

6 Ibid., p. 194.

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I was finishing up When Time Had Fully Come: Studies in New Testament Theology by Herman N. Ridderbos, and I thought that the following topic could make for an interesting discussion. Ridderbos says, “The question arises, then, of the relationship of Jesus to Paul. When for example, the Sermon on the Mount greatly stresses compliance with the commandments, as we believe we are able to maintain, is it then at all possible to speak of a unity between the Gospels and the epistles of Paul, because the former stress is laid upon the positive meaning of the law, and in the latter upon the negative meaning? (pp. 61-62) I would love to read what others may think about the actual or so-called negative Pauline remarks of the law.

What a wonderful question and topic for discussion. Regarding Paul’s view of “the Law”, I believe his view depends upon what Law is being referred to in a particular context, because without defining our terms ambiguity will abound. I think that Paul makes a distinction between the Sinai Code/Law of Moses (Old Covenant/Letter) and law of God/Christ (New Covenant/Spirit).

In two specific sections in his writings he discusses at length historical-redemptive covenant theology in 2 Cor.3:1-18 and Gal. 3-4. In these passages, he gives his rationale for why the Mosaic Law offers only death and how the New Covenant transcends by it offering life. In 2 Cor.3:1-18, he zeroes in on the Letter/Spirit contrast resident in the two covenants. He even goes as far as to label the Law of Moses as “the ministry of death” (vs.7) and “condemnation” (vs.9) as it was, written on tables of stone. He contends that this “letter” brings death, surely drawing from his argument in Rom.7:7-11:

What then shall we say? That the law is sin? By no means! Yet if it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin. I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, “You shall not covet.” But sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, produced in me all kinds of covetousness. Apart from the law, sin lies dead. I was once alive apart from the law, but when the commandment came, sin came alive and I died. The very commandment that promised life proved to be death to me. For sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment deceived me and through it killed me.

He likens the Law to the glory that was on Moses face which needed to be concealed to Israel by a veil over his face (vs.7). Even then, there was a veil over their hearts every time they read the Law (vs.15) because their hearts were hardened by it (vs.14). However, the glory of the New Covenant revealed in Christ is infinitely superior because it does not fade and has no end (vs.11). It is written not on a tablets of stone, but on the tablet of the heart (vs.3), drawing on Ezek.36:26 and Jer.31:33. Since this covenant is imparted directly by the Spirit on the heart with no outside mediator, those in it are now with “unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord and being transformed into the same image” (vs.18). So we can summarize by saying that the Letter/Spirit contrast is about the difference in the nature of the Mosaic and New Covenants.

In Galatians 3-4, Paul focuses on the purpose of the Mosaic Covenant in light of the New Covenant. He is trying to remind the Galatians very forcefully that no one will be justified by the works of the Law (3:11). In other words, no one can please God escatologically by trying to execute their duties as prescribed by the Law of Moses. The reasons for this are because no one is truly able to execute this covenant so we are cursed in trying to do so (3:10), and the purpose of the Law was to make transgression fully visible and never to offer eternal life (3:18-19). This covenant came to bring us into slavery and imprisonment so that we could be rescued by Christ (vs.23-24). So Paul is setting up two different covenantal strands that find their culmination in the allegory of Hagar and Sarah in 4:21-31. Hagar corresponds to the slavery that exists under the Mosaic Law and is demonstrated in the contemporary Judaism that is visible in Jerusalem (vs.25). Sarah corresponds to the freedom that exists under the New Covenant and is demonstrated in the promises God offers His people in the New (spiritual) Jerusalem (vs.26-28). So the Mosaic Covenant existed to serve as a physical template that would anticipate the spiritual realities to come in the new age that has been inaugurated in the death and resurrection of Christ. Thus, in order to partake of this inaugurated Covenant, we need to believe in what Christ accomplished on our behalf and so cast out the “slave woman” (the Mosaic Covenant) (vs.29-31).

In light of these passages, I think it is evident that the Mosaic/Old Covenant was an external code which does and can only demand. God designed it this way in order to magnify sin in Israel, as Israel is simply Adam on a corporate/national scale (Hosea 6:7). Neither Adam nor Israel could ever have kept, executed, or complied to the Law given to them. Even if they could have, there was no promise for eternal life. It wasn’t the function of the Law given to them. But, both Adam and Israel’s failure have become the canvas for God to promise grace in the death of Jesus. The death of Jesus ratified the New Covenant which does and can only promise eternal life. In the New Covenant there is no code to keep or demand upon us, but the promise of life in Christ itself produces faith in us which will result in us keeping the law of God/Christ, which is essentially loving God and loving our neighbors.

What did the resurrection and the glory of Jesus Christ that Paul saw in his vision reveal to him about where he stood in the history of God’s plan for His people and His creation?

The resurrection and glory of Jesus Christ revealed to Paul that he stood at the final leg in the history of redemption. Paul disclosed to Agrippa some the content of what Jesus told him in the initial vision in Acts 26:14-18. Jesus told him that he has appeared to him to appoint him as a minister and witness of all he will reveal to him (vs.16) to go to the gentiles and open their eyes so that they turn from darkness to light, from the dominion of Satan to God, and that they might receive forgiveness of sins and an inheritance as they are sanctified by faith in Jesus (vs.17-18). He also tells Agrippa that what was revealed to him which he had been proclaiming was everything that the Prophets and Moses said would take place (vs.22). In further discussion with Agrippa, Paul asks him bluntly, “King Agrippa, do you believe the Prophets? I know that you do” (vs.27). In an earlier account in Acts, we see Paul at Mars Hill sharing the very message that was revealed to him by Jesus (17:19-34). The climax of his message to the Athenians was the fact that God has fixed a day of judgment through Jesus, proving this by raising him from the dead.

In every encounter that Paul has with people in Acts, as well as every letter that he writes, this message of the death and resurrection of Jesus, which vindicates the judgment of God and forgives the sins of all who believe, is proclaimed and grounded in the fulfillment of the Law and Prophets (whether typologically or prophetically). Scripture drove his language and argumentation that Jesus is the end-times Messiah who ushered in the Kingdom of God through his death and resurrection. What is presupposed here is that all of the elements described in the message Paul preached about Jesus were written in the Scriptures of Israel when it spoke of the “latter days” or “end of days”. Passages come to mind such as Genesis 1-3, Exodus 19:5-6, Deuteronomy 30:1-6, 2 Samuel 7:5-17, Jeremiah 31:31ff, Isaiah 42:5-7, 52:13-53:12, Ezekiel 37:1-28, and Daniel 7:9-13. Paul drew upon these and many other texts to display his understanding that Jesus’ resurrection and glory signaled the inauguration of the final leg of redemptive history.

The response to my answer and follow-up was:

Let’s continue our discussion about inaugurated eschatology. Please turn to 1 Corinthians 7:29-40. How does this view of the shortness of our time onearth in light of the eternity of heaven impact your views not only of theissues discussed by Paul ­ which include marriage, death, happiness, and material goods, but also whatever else is on your mind?

That’s an interesting question, because I normally don’t assess my understanding of the “shortness of time” with how it impacts my views of the topics you mentioned. It seems that Paul is essentially driving at the concept of not wasting the precious time we have here on earth. His central ground in verse 31 is that “the form of the world is passing away”. I don’t know that he was privy to the fact that there would be 2000+ years of kingdom expansion ahead of him. I also don’t think the apostles expected to be alive when Christ returned due to the fact that both Paul and Peter had their suffering deaths revealed to them by Jesus. But it is apparent that both Paul and Peter were aware of the accelerated suffering that the people of God would undergo. Here in the context of the passage of discussion, Paul forms his reasoning by considering “the present distress” (vs.26) which he is trying to spare his readers from (vs.28). I don’t think he meant that “life is hard enough, marriage will make it worse”. I think he is appealing to the possibility of either you being captured, tortured, and killed or your spouse being captured, tortured, and killed. The only thing worse than suffering is seeing your loved ones suffering. I think Paul is trying to brace his hearers for pain for the sake of Christ. When he says, “the one who is married is concerned about the things of the world” (vs.34), I don’t think he means that it is “less spiritual” or “less godly”, but simply that human marriage does not continue in heaven the same way it is on this earth. Since the “form of the world is passing away” and is temporary, to marry is to invest in a temporary venture.

I also don’t think we should miss the subtlety with which Paul is disclosing his understanding of the purpose of marriage. He says, “One who is unmarried is concerned about the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord; but the one who is married is concerned about the things of the world, how he may please his wife” ( vs.32-33). He is using the very same language of marriage for humans as for covenant in Christ, showing that he sees a vital connection between the two analogously. I find it striking.

The following was written by Scott Hafemann for students at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary in his class Interpreting the New Testament. It is included in the famed “Beale Packet” which began as a series of handouts that Greg Beale used to give out to students in this class when he was a professor at GCTS. It is now available at Roy Ciampa‘s New Testament Resources site and is a required manual for most students who now take this class at GCTS. In the following, Hafemann assumes his students will be familiar with a method of close reading called “discourse analysis” that helps follow the flow of thought in a given text by tracing the connection of each proposition.

Once we have mastered the various logical relationships that can exist between propositions, we will be able to discover and determine which relationships actually do exist as the author’s argument unfolds. Therefore, our first task in exegesis will be to analyze the discourse by tracing the flow of the argument. Specifically, we will:

• Translate the passage from Greek into a literal English rendering.
• Go through the passage isolating the individual propositions. Remember that each proposition must contain both a subject and a predicate. If you deem it necessary to make a participial or prepositional phrase into a separate proposition, you must either convert the participle into a finite verb or supply one for the prepositional phrase.
• Next, attempt to relate each proposition to what precedes. Indicate your understanding of the argument by selecting a connecting word or phrase, which makes each relationship explicit. Whenever an author supplies such a connecting link (conjunction or phrase), remain faithful to it unless it seems absolutely impossible to do so!
• Finally, outline the argument in the margin by using the bracket method illustrated in class. When you are finished, you should be able to state the main point of the text and all of its supporting points.

But having paraphrased the text, we may be tricked into thinking that we understand what an author is up to (for after all, just to get this far is a major accomplishment!). Actually, we have just begun. We now have something to work with beyond just a vague feeling about the “meaning” of the passage. We now know what our author says, but if this is where we stop, all we have exercised is our memory and a few analytic skills. For in talking about the difference between memory and enlightenment, M.J. Adler writes:

To be informed is to know simply that something is the case. To be enlightened is to know, in addition, what it is all about: why it is the case,what its connections are with other facts, in what respects it is different, and so forth. This distinction is familiar in terms of the differences between being able to remember something and being able to explain it. Enlightenment is achieved only when, in addition to knowing what an author says you know what he means and why he says it. (How to Read a Book, 1972 ed., p.11)

How then do we move from memory to understanding or enlightenment? The answer is simple: ASKING QUESTIONS IS THE KEY TO UNDERSTANDING! This does not mean that the exegete has not already asked many, many questions in the process of analyzing the text. Discourse analysis demands that one ask questions of every individual proposition (See the separate hand-out, “Questions to ask yourself in the attempt to determine the logical relationship between propositions”). In the course of discourse analysis, perhaps six of the seven key observational questions will already have been asked (who?, what?, where?, when?, and why?). But even more specifically, all of the questions needed to come to grips with the argument will have been explored.

But now it is time to ask those questions that flow out of the seventh general category, “What is going on here?” In asking, “what is going on here” kinds of questions, we are not concerned with questions of significance (remember the key distinction between the “meaning” and “significance” of a text!). That will come last. At this point we are still working at the exegetical level. All of the questions we must now ask are questions that spring from the text and are to be answered from the same source.

And in asking and answering these questions, never go to a commentator until you have first allowed yourself the privilege of going to the author! And do not listen to gossip without a very suspecting ear. You will be able to tell if your questions and answers come from the text by whether or not they are phrased with and supported by ideas that have concrete expression in the text itself, the relevant historical background, or theological presuppositions used by the author (be careful with this last one, however, that what you think is presupposed is actually there).

“What is going on here” questions are questions that come about because one now understands what the author is saying, but what the author is saying seems to raise problems with what the author is saying! For as Dr. Daniel Fuller has rightly observed:

Whenever someone is imparting understanding, or insight, or a new way of looking at things, he will always say things which seem strange and, at the outset, incoherent with other things that he is saying.

Thus, for example, after analyzing Jesus’ words in Luke 12:1-7 one is troubled by the observation that Jesus commands his disciples to fear and not to fear God at the same time! How is it that Jesus can warn and comfort his “friends” at the same time? And how do Jesus’ words of comfort based on the comparison to the value of the birds hold up in view of the fact that God also throws people into hell? These are questions that flow out of the text and whose answers are essential to really understanding what is going on here! When we are done with our discourse analysis, it will be these “strange…incoherent…things” which will force us to think and understand our author.

Perhaps you are beginning to see how essential a part of reading it is to be perplexed and know it. Wonder is the beginning of wisdom in learning from books as well as from nature. If you never ask yourself any questions about the meaning of a passage, you cannot expect the book to give you any insight you do not already possess. (M.J. Adler, How to Read a Book, p.123)

These are profound words and they are certainly true of the book of books as well! When we come to the Bible, our goal is not to read our old, worn ideas back into the text, but to be brought along to new and deeper understandings of the inspired words of the biblical authors, This means that we will never be happy until we read the Scripture carefully enough to be troubled by what we read and then take the time to formulate our problems into questions to ponder and ultimately solve.

Reading = asking questions that you yourself must try to answer in the course of reading! Here are some general guidelines concerning formulating good questions that I have again taken with his permission from the unpublished work of Dr. Daniel P. Fuller, this time from a paper he wrote in 1977:

• Questions should evince troubledness. Ask questions which show, by the way they are stated and by their nature, that they arose from your being troubled by what you observed in the text as you analyzed its discourse. Experience proves that only when we are faced by a sharply focused question will our answers represent the sort of thinking that is worthy of studying the Holy Scriptures.
• Avoid asking a question whose answer is quite obvious or which makes others feel it is being asked primarily to provide an occasion for bringing out some insight that one thinks a verse or passage contains.
• Avoid vague, strange or abstract language in posing your question. When this kind of language is used, it constitutes evidence that the trouble or uneasiness one feels has not become sufficiently clarified. Remember, you are trying to pinpoint your problem with a question. Work for precision.
• Substantiate your troubledness where necessary, from inferences drawn from the text, not your own theological convictions or Christian experience. Primarily, we want to understand the biblical author better, not each other. Besides, you want everyone to feel your problem; otherwise no one will care about the answer. One of the best ways to both pinpoint a problem and evince to all your feeling of troubledness is to pose a question by asking which of two alternatives (both of which have some plausibility) is true.
• Avoid asking a question that involves some curiosity arising from something incidental to what is said in the text. If you have a hunch that others might think your question is trivial, when in fact it is vital for the way you see the authorÂ’s line of thought, then point out why it is indeed a vital question.

There are also good and bad ways to formulate your answers, either in papers or in the pulpit, or in your own quiet time when asking questions and answering is very important. Here are some criteria to keep in mind for having good answers:

• One part of the answer should be a direct affirmation answering the question. This often should be your first statement.
• Support your answer persuasively by arguments based on the data of the text, and/or some pertinent historical background information, and/or some axiom. Avoid arguing for answers by mere speculation. If we are going to persuade people, then we must base arguments logically on facts, and avoid so-called arguments that consist of speculative plausibility.
• Avoid verbosity in your question and answer. Confine your answer to the conclusion which answers the question and the arguments which support and lead to your conclusion. Many teachers and preachers loose their audience because they cannot keep to the point.

The Question of Significance

Of course, the final step in any exegesis done with an eye toward the Church is to ask “so what?” At this point we are now ready to span the centuries, with some help along the way (do not neglect the great theologians, commentators, and preachers through the ages!), by building the ties between the Bible and us.

Remember that here the key work is “correspondence”! Our significance will only be as good as the meaning upon which it is built and the analogies that bind our two times and problems together. But if we err, we usually do so at the exegetical end! Mining the meaning of the Bible is hard work. As Francis Bacon once said, “some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested.” There is no doubt which category the Scriptures fall into, or that they are worth our effort.

Let us set ourselves to the task with dedication and anticipation. We have much to learn and the Church has much to gain from it.

For reading is learning from one who is absent. If you ask a living teacher a question, he will probably answer you. If you are puzzled by what he says, you can save yourself the trouble of thinking by asking him what he means. If, however, you ask a book a question, you must answer it yourself when you question it, it answers you only to the extent that you do the work of thinking and analysis yourself. (Adler, How to Read a Book, p.15)

George Mendenhall‘s groundbreaking work (“Covenant Forms in the Israelite Tradition,” Biblical Archaeologist 17 [1954]: 50-76) on the parallels of Ancient Near Eastern covenant forms in the Old Testament have greatly nuanced the way we understand the nature of God’s relationship to Israel. It has helped us to put Israel in a more precise historical context among contemporary nations, as well as to see how much differently Yahweh is from the gods of the other nations. Although the structure of Later Bronze Hittite covenants had already been present in Ancient Near Eastern studies, Mendenhall was the first to point out the similarities of structure to portions of the Old Testament. The structural features in which he observed these commonalities were: 1. Identification of a Covenant Giver, 2. An Historical Prologue, 3. The Stipulations, 4. Provision for Deposit and Public Reading, 5. A Listing of Treaty Witnesses, 6. The Blessings and Curses, 7. A Ratification Ceremony, 8. Imposition of the Curses. These are obvious features to observe in the Pentateuch/Torah, which is why there has been very little objection to Mendenhall’s findings. In fact, Meredith Kline has shown at great lengths that Deuteronomy itself fits this structure as exactly as any Late Bronze Suzerain-Vassal treaty. Essentially, a Suzerain-Vassal covenant is a binding oath between a larger ruler (suzerain) and protected nation (vassal) sometimes issued when the larger ruler/nation steps in to help the other in a military campaign (see 2 Kings 16:1-8). Upon the victory of that campaign, the vassal is bound to the stipulations of the treaty in order to maintain the continued support and protection promised by the suzerain. This was ratified by the sacrificing of an animal, as it was normally cut into halves and each party would walk between the halves, symbolically invoking death upon the disobedient party. There would be two copies of the official document drafted, one to be placed in the respective temple of each nation. The covenant at Sinai encapsulates all of these occurrences, and we get a snapshot of this in Ex. 19-24.

Perhaps the reason why “covenant” slips under the radar in modern Pauline studies in the way we are describing may be the relatively few uses of the word diatheke, “covenant,” in his letters. He only employs it 9 times. This may be an indication to some of its de-emphasis because its Hebrew counterpart berit is used about 286 times in the Old Testament. However, we should be careful not to be guilty of the “Word-Thing” fallacy, assuming that just because a single word is not used often that a concept is not fully present. This is particularly relevant considering recent articulation of the phenomena of intertextuality that is littered throughout Paul’s epistles with the Old Testament. Paul was a burgeoning Pharisaic Rabbi before the Damascus Road experience, and he had devoted his life to study the Torah. So although he might not have used the word all that much in his writings, it cannot be overlooked that his entire framework for understanding the nature of theology and ministry was covenantal. We cannot escape this because the Mosaic Covenant/Old Testament had even created the theological terminology that he uses to describe what has taken place in Christ. Consider the following covenant words/themes found in Paul:

•  mediator (1 Tim.2:5)
• minister/servant (Rom.15:8,16; Eph.3:7)
• law (Rom.2:12; 3:19; Gal.2:16)
• commandment (Rom.7:13)
• bless/curse (Rom.12:14; Gal.3:10)
• righteousness (Rom.4:3: 2 Cor.3:9)
• eat/drink (1 Cor.10:3-4; 11:23-26)
• Father/Son (Rom.1:3-4; Phil.1:2; Col.1:2)
• sin/transgression/iniquity (Rom.3:23; Gal.6:1; 1 Thes.4:6)
• atonement/propitiation (Rom.3:25)
• temple (1 Cor.6:19; Eph.2:21)
• Sabbath (Rom.14:4; Col.2:16)
• kingdom (1 Cor.6:9; 15:24; 2 Tim.4:18)
• heir/sonship/adoption (Rom.4:13; Gal.4:7; Eph.1:5)
• redeem/redemption (Gal.4:5; Tit.2:14)
• witness (2 Cor.1:23; Phil.1:8)
• offering/sacrifice (Eph.5:2; Phil.2:17)
• know/knowledge (Phil.3:10; 2 Thes.1:8)

Surely we should be sensitive to the contemporary expression Paul had available to him the Greco-Roman world in which he lived. This serves to magnify the fact that Paul communicated with biblical/covenant language when crafting his more poignant theological dialogue, even to predominantly Gentile communities.

In two specific sections in his writings he discusses at length historical-redemptive covenant theology in 2 Cor.6:1-18 and Gal. 3-4. In these passages, he gives his rationale for why the Mosaic Law offers only death and how the New Covenant transcends by it offering life. In 2 Cor.6:1-18, he zeroes in on the Letter/Spirit contrast resident in the two covenants. He even goes as far as to label the Law of Moses as “the ministry of death” (vs.7) and “condemnation” (vs.9) as it was, written on tables of stone. He contends that this “letter” brings death, surely drawing from his argument in Rom.7:7-11:

What then shall we say? That the law is sin? By no means! Yet if it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin. I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, “You shall not covet.” But sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, produced in me all kinds of covetousness. Apart from the law, sin lies dead. I was once alive apart from the law, but when the commandment came, sin came alive and I died. The very commandment that promised life proved to be death to me. For sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment deceived me and through it killed me.

He likens the Law to the glory that was on Moses face which needed to be concealed to Israel by a veil over his face (vs.7). Even then, there was a veil over their hearts every time they read the Law (vs.15) because their hearts were hardened by it (vs.14). However, the glory of the New Covenant revealed in Christ is infinitely superior because it does not fade and has no end (vs.11). It is written not on a tablets of stone, but on the tablet of the heart (vs.3), drawing on Ezek.36:26 and Jer.31:33. Since this covenant is imparted directly by the Spirit on the heart with no outside mediator, those in it are now with “unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord and being transformed into the same image” (vs.18). So we can summarize by saying that the Letter/Spirit contrast is about the difference in the nature of the Mosaic and New Covenants.

In Galatians 3-4, Paul focuses on the purpose of the Mosaic Covenant in light of the New Covenant. He is trying to remind the Galatians very forcefully that no one will be justified by the works of the Law (3:11). In other words, no one can please God escatologically by trying to execute their duties as prescribed by the Law of Moses. The reasons for this are because no one is truly able to execute this covenant so we are cursed in trying to do so (3:10), and the purpose of the Law was to make transgression fully visible and never to offer eternal life (3:18-19). This covenant came to bring us into slavery and imprisonment so that we could be rescued by Christ (vs.23-24). So Paul is setting up two different covenantal strands that find their culmination in the allegory of Hagar and Sarah in 4:21-31. Hagar corresponds to the slavery that exists under the Mosaic Law and is demonstrated in the contemporary Judaism that is visible in Jerusalem (vs.25). Sarah corresponds to the freedom that exists under the New Covenant and is demonstrated in the promises God offers His people in the New (spiritual) Jerusalem (vs.26-28). So the Mosaic Covenant existed to serve as a physical template that would anticipate the spiritual realities to come in the new age that has been inaugurated in the death and resurrection of Christ. Thus, in order to partake of this inaugurated Covenant, we need to believe in what Christ accomplished on our behalf and so cast out the “slave woman” (the Mosaic Covenant) (vs.29-31).

One of the New Covenant symbols we carry forward in this inaugurated age is the Lord’s Supper. We don’t often think about it in covenantal terms, but it is very clear in 1 Cor.10:1-11 that it is a covenantal oath-sign. In 10:1-11, we are typologically linked to Israel as they came under the Sinai covenant through Moses in the desert. He points to the way they “ate and drank” and rose up to idolatry (vs.7). Paul’s use of “eating” and “drinking” together in light of the context inextricably link to the Lord’s Supper. This sacrament is brought to light at the start of the next section in 10:16 (“cup of blessing,” “bread which we break”) for the purpose of demonstrating to the Corinthians that there is a spiritual connection between God and his people as expressed in eating and drinking (10:16-22). The tie that may, perhaps, bind the picture of “food and drink” in Israel’s Exodus with the Lord’s Supper is the concept of covenant. “Eating and drinking” was a common oath-sign in Ancient Near Eastern covenant forms, and Israel partook of such “communion meals” during the Exodus period. Paul uses “eating and drinking” this way in 10:7, as quoted from Ex.32:6 where Israel, offered sacrifices and had a “feast to the LORD” (Ex.32:5) after ratifying their covenant with God (Ex.24:7-8). This squares with the Lord’s Supper as the proclamation of the New Covenant death of Christ (11:23-26), and accounts for the severe penalty for eating and drinking unworthily (invoking curse; 11:27-32). Paul argues on both sides of our passage that one is a “sharer,” or “partaker” of the sacrifices from which they eat (9:13; 10:17,18,20). It is the partaking of sacrifices that bind people to their gods/God covenantally, which is why he is so adamant that they should not knowingly eat what is sacrificed to idols (10:22).

So we have provided an orientation for grasping how the concept of covenant was understood and adapted by Paul. This, of course, is short in nature, but perhaps may help percolate thought on further studies for this in his writings.

For Further Study:

Beale, G.K. (ed.). The Right Doctrine from the Wrong Texts: Essays on the Use of the Old Testament in the New. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1994

Dunn, James. “Did Paul Have a Covenant Theology? Reflections on Romans 9:4 and 11:27.” The Concept of Covenant in the Second Temple Period. ed. By Stanley Porter & Jacqueline C.R. de Roo. Supplements of the Journal for the Study of Judaism Vol.71. Leiden: Brill, 2003

Gallant, Tim. “Paul and Torah-An Introductory Overview.” forthcoming chapter in his book These are Two Covenants: The Mosaic Law in Paul’s Thought. Monroe, LA: Athanasius

Hafemann, Scott J. Paul, Moses, and the History of Israel: The Letter/Spirit Contrast and the Argument from Scripture in 2 Corinthians 3. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Series 2 Volume 81. Tubingen: J.C.B.Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1995

Hahn, Scott. “Covenant in Old and New Testaments: Some Current Research (1994-2004).” Currents in Biblical Research 3.2 (2005): 263-292

Hays, Richard B. Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989

Hugenberger, Gordon. Marriage as a Covenant: Biblical Law and Ethics as Developed from Malachi. Biblical Studies Library. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1998

Kline, Meredith G. The Structure of Biblical Authority. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1975

——–. Kingdom Prologue: Genesis Foundations for a Covenantal Worldview. Overland Park, KS: Two Age Press, 2000

Mendenhall, George E. & Herion, Gary A. “Covenant.” Anchor Bible Dictionary. Vol.1. ed. by David Noel Freedman. New York: Doubleday, 1992

Porter, Stanley E. “The Concept of Covenant in Paul.” The Concept of Covenant in the Second Temple Period. ed. By Stanley Porter & Jacqueline C.R. de Roo. Supplements of the Journal for the Study of Judaism Vol.71. Leiden: Brill, 2003

Wright, N.T. The Climax of the Covenant: Christ and the Law in Pauline Theology. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991

24 The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in temples made by man, 25 nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything. 26 And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, 27 that they should seek God, in the hope that they might feel their way toward him and find him.

Acts 13:17-40

17 The God of this people Israel chose our fathers and made the people great during their stay in the land of Egypt, and with uplifted arm he led them out of it. 18 And for about forty years he put up with them in the wilderness. 19 And after destroying seven nations in the land of Canaan, he gave them their land as an inheritance. 20 All this took about 450 years. And after that he gave them judges until Samuel the prophet. 21 Then they asked for a king, and God gave them Saul the son of Kish, a man of the tribe of Benjamin, for forty years. 22 And when he had removed him, he raised up David to be their king, of whom he testified and said, ‘I have found in David the son of Jesse a man after my heart, who will do all my will.’ 23 Of this man’s offspring God has brought to Israel a Savior, Jesus, as he promised. 24 Before his coming, John had proclaimed a baptism of repentance to all the people of Israel. 25 And as John was finishing his course, he said, ‘What do you suppose that I am? I am not he. No, but behold, after me one is coming, the sandals of whose feet I am not worthy to untie.’26 “Brothers, sons of the family of Abraham, and those among you who fear God, to us has been sent the message of this salvation. 27 For those who live in Jerusalem and their rulers, because they did not recognize him nor understand the utterances of the prophets, which are read every Sabbath, fulfilled them by condemning him. 28 And though they found in him no guilt worthy of death, they asked Pilate to have him executed. 29 And when they had carried out all that was written of him, they took him down from the tree and laid him in a tomb. 30 But God raised him from the dead, 31 and for many days he appeared to those who had come up with him from Galilee to Jerusalem, who are now his witnesses to the people. 32 And we bring you the good news that what God promised to the fathers, 33 this he has fulfilled to us their children by raising Jesus, as also it is written in the second Psalm,”‘You are my Son, today I have begotten you.’

34 And as for the fact that he raised him from the dead, no more to return to corruption, he has spoken in this way,

“‘I will give you the holy and sure blessings of David.’

35 Therefore he says also in another psalm,

“‘You will not let your Holy One see corruption.’

36 For David, after he had served the purpose of God in his own generation, fell asleep and was laid with his fathers and saw corruption, 37 but he whom God raised up did not see corruption. 38 Let it be known to you therefore, brothers, that through this man forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you, and by him everyone who believes is freed from everything 39 from which you could not be freed by the law of Moses.

-Arturo Azurdia, Spirit-Empowered Preaching

Torah, yes, not just law in the abstract. Not, please, Immanuel Kant’s categorical imperative. When a lot of people say “Law” in Post-enlightenment, Western world, they are thinking not about the Law of Israel, the Law of Moses, but some sort of principle of “Law” in general. No, when Paul uses “nomos” in every single use in Romans, he means the Law of Moses.

More in the future on this since I am writing a paper about the concept of covenant in Paul.

Everything You Want to Know About the Bible by Peter Downey & Ben Shaw
Salvation to the Ends of the Earth: A Biblical Theology of Mission by Andreas Kostenberger & Peter O’Brien

I’ve added them to the previous post and linked the bost under Biblical Theologies.

Biblical Theology: Old and New Testaments by Geerhardus Vos

The Drama of Scripture: Finding Our Place in the Biblical Story by Craig G. Bartholomew & Michael W. Goheen

The Story of Israel: A Biblical Theology by C.M. Pate, J.S. Duvall, J.D. Hays et al.

The God of Promise and the Life of Faith by Scott Hafemann

The Unity of the Bible by Daniel Fuller

The Ways of Our God: An Approach to Biblical Theology by Charles Scobie

The Temple and the Church’s Mission by G.K. Beale

Engaging with God : A Biblical Theology of Worship by David Peterson

According to Plan: The Unfolding Revelation of God in the Bible by Graeme Goldsworthy

Far as the Curse is Found: The Covenant Story of Redemption by Michael D. Williams

God’s Big Picture: Tracing the Story-line of the Bible by Vaughn Roberts

Symphony of Scripture: Making Sense of the Bible’s Many Themes by Mark Strom

Announcing the Kingdom: The Story of God’s Mission in the Bible by Arthur F. Glasser

What on Earth is the Kingdom of God? by W.A. Young, Jr.

The Story of the Kingdom: A Simple Explanation of the Bible by Jonathan Gibson

The Progress Of Redemption: The Story of Salvation from Creation to the New Jerusalem by Willem A. Vangemeren

From Creation to New Creation: Understanding the Bible Story by Tim Chester

Everything You Want to Know About the Bible by Peter Downey & Ben Shaw

Salvation to the Ends of the Earth: A Biblical Theology of Mission by Andreas Kostenberger & Peter O’Brien

In either case, a picture like this boggles my mind almost as much as the text of Ezekiel 1:

1Now it came about in the thirtieth year, on the fifth day of the fourth month, while I was by the river Chebar among the exiles, the heavens were opened and I saw visions of God. 2(On the fifth of the month in the fifth year of King Jehoiachin’s exile, 3the word of the LORD came expressly to Ezekiel the priest, son of Buzi, in the land of the Chaldeans by the river Chebar; and there the hand of the LORD came upon him.) 4As I looked, behold, a storm wind was coming from the north, a great cloud with fire flashing forth continually and a bright light around it, and in its midst something like glowing metal in the midst of the fire. 5Within it there were figures resembling four living beings. And this was their appearance: they had human form, 6Each of them had four faces and four wings. 7Their legs were straight and their feet were like a calf’s hoof, and they gleamed like burnished bronze. 8Under their wings on their four sides were human hands. As for the faces and wings of the four of them, 9their wings touched one another; their faces did not turn when they moved, each went straight forward. 10As for the form of their faces, each had the face of a man; all four had the face of a lion on the right and the face of a bull on the left, and all four had the face of an eagle. 11Such were their faces. Their wings were spread out above; each had two touching another being, and two covering their bodies. 12And each went straight forward; wherever the spirit was about to go, they would go, without turning as they went. 13In the midst of the living beings there was something that looked like burning coals of fire, like torches darting back and forth among the living beings. The fire was bright, and lightning was flashing from the fire. 14And the living beings ran to and fro like bolts of lightning. 15Now as I looked at the living beings, behold, there was one wheel on the earth beside the living beings, for each of the four of them. 16The appearance of the wheels and their workmanship was like sparkling beryl, and all four of them had the same form, their appearance and workmanship being as if one wheel were within another. 17Whenever they moved, they moved in any of their four directions without turning as they moved. 18As for their rims they were lofty and awesome, and the rims of all four of them were full of eyes round about. 19Whenever the living beings moved, the wheels moved with them. And whenever the living beings rose from the earth, the wheels rose also. 20Wherever the spirit was about to go, they would go in that direction. And the wheels rose close beside them; for the spirit of the living beings was in the wheels. 21Whenever those went, these went; and whenever those stood still, these stood still. And whenever those rose from the earth, the wheels rose close beside them; for the spirit of the living beings was in the wheels. 22Now over the heads of the living beings there was something like an expanse, like the awesome gleam of crystal, spread out over their heads. 23Under the expanse their wings were stretched out straight, one toward the other; each one also had two wings covering its body on the one side and on the other. 24I also heard the sound of their wings like the sound of abundant waters as they went, like the voice of the Almighty, a sound of tumult like the sound of an army camp; whenever they stood still, they dropped their wings. 25And there came a voice from above the expanse that was over their heads; whenever they stood still, they dropped their wings. 26Now above the expanse that was over their heads there was something resembling a throne, like lapis lazuli in appearance; and on that which resembled a throne, high up, was a figure with the appearance of a man. 27Then I noticed from the appearance of His loins and upward something like glowing metal that looked like fire all around within it, and from the appearance of His loins and downward I saw something like fire; and there was a radiance around Him. 28As the appearance of the rainbow in the clouds on a rainy day, so was the appearance of the surrounding radiance. Such was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the LORD. And when I saw it, I fell on my face and heard a voice speaking.

Mark Dever is the only guy I have ever heard preach on this text, at the Shepherd’s Conference at Grace Community Church (MacArthur’s church). Oh that we would ponder the depths of this vision and fall on our faces!

Most students of the Bible do not know how to read (= exegete) for understanding. Instead they merely read for information, gladly pouncing upon an author, holding him or her up with their well-trained eye, and then robbing the text of its conclusions. But although their minds become filled with many stolen treasures, they never fool anyone. Everyone knows they are thieves and can be exposed at any time with a good question. The owner’s conclusions have merely become the thief.s opinions. And such stealing is wrong, even when the opinions in view are biblical opinions.

Discourse analysis is designed to help us become “honest” readers who desire to understand rather than steal. The two best teachers I have ever had both taught me that to understand (our goal in exegesis) involves thinking an author’s thoughts after him or her. Or to put it another way, the goal of reading the Bible is to be able to restate an author’s original intention in such away that if the author were listening he or she would agree. The goal is to see reality through another person’s eyes. But this is simply impossible until one has thought his/her way, step by step, after the author. This is where the art/skill of discourse analysis fits in.

In discourse analysis we do not attempt to put the author’s words into our own — rather, we simply attempt to isolate each proposition (the author’s “steps”) and to demonstrate how they relate to one another. Having done so, we then can trace the logical development of the author’s argument step by step by indicating how the flow of thought moves from logical level to logical level. Finally, after we have a flow chart of the author’s argument, we will be able to isolate out each of the author’s main logical levels and gain an overview of the argument’s development. The result of our labor will be an understanding of the main point of a text and the ways in which it is supported. Discourse analysis has four distinct but related steps:

• Separate out the individual propositions of the text.
• Determine the logical relationships between the propositions.
• Trace the flow of the argument from step to step.
• Organize the text into its major logical levels, thus establishing its main and supporting points.

There are essentially 18 kinds of relationships under 4 headings:

Coordinate Relationships-Different Ideas
Series-each makes its independent contribution to the whole
Progressive-each proposition is a further step toward a climax
Alternative-expresses an opposite possibility arising from a situation

Subordinate Relationships-Support by Restatement
Way-End-statement of an action and the means of the action
Comparison-statement expressing an action and one showing what it is like
Negative-Positive-two alternatives, one is denied and the other is enforced
General-Specific- a proposition stating a whole and one setting forth the parts
Fact-Interpretation-an original statement and one clarifying its meaning

Subordinate Relationships-Support by Distinct Statements
Ground-a statement and the argument or basis on which it stands
Inference-supporting proposition which always precedes a supported one
Cause-Effect- an action and one automatically consequent upon that action
Conditional-like the “Cause-Effect” exceptthe existence of cause potential
Means-End-the relationship between an action and one that is intended
Temporal-a proposition and the occasion when it can occur
Locative-proposition and the place where it can be true

Subordinate Relationships-Support by Contrary Statement
Adversative-a main clause that stands despite a contrary statement
Question-Answer-self-explanitory
Situation-Response-also self-explanitory

The main objection I have heard as to why DA should/will not be used is that most arguments in Scripture are obvious and do not require such intentional structuring. Also, one can be tempted to force a structure on a passage that never intended such outlining. With regard to the first objection, I would say that this is inaccurate. People do not really read hard and close to see any “obvious” arguments. Plus most people do not have the categories in order to evaluate an argument. DA provides us with categories that are proven to apply in every spoken and written language and cause us to wrestle with the wording of every passage we hope to exegete. With regard to the second objection, DA is intended to draw out structure, not impose it on a thought, as Hafemann stated above. DA is about observing thought through a logical lense.

DA is at the heart of this blog because DA is at the heart of exegesis. I would agree, that we do not always have to spell things out neatly in a chart, but it is imperative that we understand these categories and are able to apply them appropriately.

Dude, let’s talk about inerrancy. First, on a previous post I made the statment:

Since the Scripture was inspired in its writing, it was without error in its first inscripturation into Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek, and therefore truthful and divinely authoritative in every matter it addresses.

You responded:

Shall we call the Scriptures “inerrant” or “infallible” if they don’t refer to themselves as such? Not that they’re any less valid or inspired or anything.

Later you said:

I guess I should say that I don’t equate “God-breathed” with “infallible”.

First, I will say that I never used the word “inerrancy,” I simply said “without error”. What I meant by this was that I believe the 66 books of the Old and New Testaments as we know them to have been authored by God through men. Therefore, God is the originator and creator of the texts in their original writing. I said it this way:

God inspired holy men, prophets, and apostles to write the sacred Text in various literary forms to say exactly what he wanted to say using the authors’ own circumstances and personalities (2 Tim.3:15-16; 2 Pet.1.20-21). Thus we find covenantal forms, prophetic oracles, psalms/songs, wisdom literature, poetry, historic narrative, expository discourse, and apocalyptic literature each equally guided by the Spirit of God, whether consciously or unconsciously, in its original autograph, accurately portraying the heart of God (in human terms).

Other statements that Scripture makes about Scripture are as follows:

Numbers 23:19 God is not man, that he should lie, or a son of man, that he should change his mind. Has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken, and will he not fulfill it?

Psalm 89:34 I will not violate my covenant or alter the word that went forth from my lips.

Isaiah 40:8 The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.

Titus 1:2 in hope of eternal life, which God, who never lies, promised before the ages began

1 Peter 1:25 but the word of the Lord remains forever.” And this word is the good news that was preached to you.

Revelation 3:14 “And to the angel of the church in Laodicea write: ‘The words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of God’s creation.

Psalm 19:7-12 7 The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul; the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple; 8 the precepts of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the LORD is pure, enlightening the eyes; 9 the fear of the LORD is clean, enduring forever; the rules of the LORD are true, and righteous altogether. 10 More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb. 11 Moreover, by them is your servant warned; in keeping them there is great reward. 12 Who can discern his errors? Declare me innocent from hidden faults.

Joshua 23:14 14 “And now I am about to go the way of all the earth, and you know in your hearts and souls, all of you, that not one word has failed of all the good things that the LORD your God promised concerning you. All have come to pass for you; not one of them has failed.

This is not to mention Psalm 119. If we believe that all the Scriptures are inspired by God, and God is all-knowing, all-powerful, all-wise, all-holy, and without error, then it would follow that the Scriptures are without error. No? Why don’t you equate “God-breathed” or “inspired” with “infallible”? Why do you have a problem with saying that the Bible is without error? You say because it doesn’t refer to itself as such, but I think it does by implication. When you read statements like, “the Word of God will never fail…” don’t you think that implies it will nor err? I think you are either being a little nit-picky or may just disagree with certain things in the Bible. I would certainly think it is the former. On a sidenote, Jesus never said explicitly that he was God, but it was certainly implied by what he said and did. Wouldn’t you agree?

Second, if you do not believe the Scriptures to be without error, than you believe that they do have errors. If they do have errors, what are they? How do we know what is in error? Yea, we shall ask the question, if all Scripture is inspired by God, is he with some errors? Moreover, how do we even know what is truth? I admit I’m getting eccentric, but I am just trying to figure out where you stand epistemologically. Would you say that certain truths should be separated from the culture and not universally applied? Is that all you mean? Because I would agree with you; I don’t greet everyone with a holy kiss, nor do I plan to anytime soon.

I’m putting this on the front-burner for now since what you are saying about inerrancy has some big implications that I’d love to discuss and hear you out on. Whether you are planning on posting on it yourself, whether we talk about it personally, whether you want to comment, or all three, I just want to draw you out and pick your brain. Don’t mean to attack you bro, I know that has happened to you on your own blog a bit. This is a dialogue.

N.T Wright is a master of word and thought in biblical studies. It is very rare to have one biblical scholar brood over so many fields in his/her discipline; and Wright does just that. Not only has he published the standard work on Jesus (“Jesus and the Victory of God”), but he is planning to do the same for Paul as he gives us a preview in “What Saint Paul Really Said”. He begins by presenting the most influential Pauline scholars of the twentieth century so that he can put himself in context. One key feature to Wright’s approach is his agreement with Albert Schweitzer, W.D. Davies, and E.P. Sanders of the Jewish context from which Paul writes against the likes of Rudolf Bultmann and the increasing notion that Paul was primarily Hellenistic. Wright breaks down this dichotomy, though, in showing that both the Hellenistic world and the Jewish world overlapped in their categories, yet affirms that Paul was influenced chiefly by the Hebrew Bible and the burgeoning rabbinics of the Second Temple Period. This understanding is paramount to Wright’s discussion about the Gospel that carries the rest of the book. He explores the Isaianic roots of the Gospel and unpacks his biblical theology of covenant, sin, exile, and restoration as it strings together the Old and New Testaments. This is a welcome summation of Wright’s current findings, as he writes with clariy, precision, and provocation. It is hard to imagine someone not helped in their understanding of Paul by this book.

You can check out more about Wright at his website linked under Biblical Studies.