Advertising and Advocacy

According to a CNNMoney.com report, “A 30-second spot sold for up to $3 million apiece, according to CBS. Super Bowl advertisers get charged a premium because so many people watch the game” (http://money.cnn.com/2010/02/01/news/companies/super_bowl_sold_out/index.htm).

As most know, one of those ad spots was purchased by Focus on the Family, and featured Tim Tebow and his mother.  It was highly publicized before airing, and I understand that it was “tweaked” a little to imply the anti-abortion message without making it explicit.

Personally, I thought the ad strange.  It was weird to see Tebow rush in from off-screen suddenly and tackle his mother.  Yes, I know it was CGI.  Still, it was strange.  Then, it was terribly cheesy to watch Tebow hug his mom, give a big goofy grin, and say something like “aw, Mom, are you still worrying about me?”  All I can say is that I was pleased he didn’t have on fake eye black with Bible verses written on them.  But, I digress.

What bothered me about this advertisement (and others like it) is the price tag.  I couldn’t find any stats other than the one listed above, so I don’t know the exact costs of the ad.  However, if the cost was upwards of $3 million dollars, it seems safe to assume that the cost to Focus on the Family was over $1 million.

So, my question is this: What difference does a $1 million ad do to persuade women considering an abortion to NOT have an abortion?  How does this ad make Focus on the Family pro-life?  Is it more pro-life to spend $1 million on a rather cheesy, vague, awkward, confusing, (annoying?) ad during the Super Bowl OR is it more pro-life to spend $1 million to give financial (and other means of) support women who are considering an abortion because of lack of income and/or to give financial (and other means of) support individuals and couples wanting to adopt?  Focus on the Family may already be doing these things, and, if so, I applaud them.  However, there seems to be a false idea that an ad by an organization that talks about their pro-life stance makes a difference.  By that logic it is pro-life to spend $1 million on an ad.

The truth is, such ads (and approaches like it) convince no one that the pro-life is the right/correct view.  It’s like the Josh McDowell books that uses the Bible to defend the Bible.  It’s only convincing if you accept the authority of the Bible.  In other words, it doesn’t help or convince anyone except those already holding the view of McDowell.  Likewise, the Focus on the Family Super Bowl ad does nothing to help lower abortion rates, because the only people who think the advertisement was good/helpful are those who already think like Focus on the Family.

So, wouldn’t it be more influential and pro-life to spend $1 million on programs that support people seeking to adopt and support women considering abortion for financial reasons or lack of family support or any other number of reasons?  Put another way, regardless of how you vote on the abortion issue, it seems more pro-life to do something tangible to help rather than leaving it at rhetoric and advertising.  Spending $1 million on a Super Bowl ad doesn’t make you pro-life.  Because words don’t make you pro-life.  Spending $1million to support young women who are pregnant and to support families wanting to adopt is pro-life.  Maybe we need less ads–certainly less cheesy ads–and more action.  Maybe we need less rhetoric and more action.  Myself included.

Matthew’s “Fulfillment” or “Formula Citations”

Some thoughts on Matthew’s “fulfillment” or “formula citations” from my summary of Matthew’s gospel (available here: http://www.trinityofmoultrie.org/trinity_009.htm)

This gospel continually looks back in order to look forward, as it is steeped in Old Testament quotations, known as formula citations, which function as evidence of Jesus’ messianic identity (1.22; 2.6, 15, 16, 23; 4.15-16; 8.17; 12.17-21; 13.14, 35; 21.4; 27.9-10).  “[Matthew] introduces many of his direct quotations from Scripture with the stereotyped formula ‘this was to fulfill what was spoken’….and they offer an authorial commentary on the narrative,” Johnson, 174.  “Matthew has about 60 references of quotations from the Old Testament…Only in Matthew has Jesus come not to abolish the law and the prophets, but to fulfill them (5.17-20),” Richard Burridge, Four Gospels, One Jesus?, 76-77.

“This is almost a Matthean peculiarity among the Synoptic Gospels [Lk 22.37; see also Mk 15.38; Lk 18.31; 24.44].  That Jesus is to be related to the Scriptures is a commonplace in early Christianity, but Matt has uniquely standardized the fulfillment of the prophet word.  In finding this fulfillment, Matt usually makes no attempt to interpret the larger contextual meaning of the cited OT passage; rather there is a concentration on the details where there is a resemblance to Jesus or the NT event….[L]ikely the citations have a didactic purpose, informing Christian readers and giving support to their faith…..Besides using the formula citations to fit the general theology of the unity of God’s plan, the Matthean evangelist selected them to serve his particular theological and pastoral interests in addressing a mixed Christian community of Jews and Gentiles,” Raymond Brown, Introduction to the New Testament, 207, 208.

Reading Matthew’s gospel with the OT story at the forefront of our thoughts, we will see the writer revealing how events in Jesus’ life have πληρωθη a statement in the OT.   Most translations render πληρωθη as “fulfill,” as in, “to actualize a prediction of future events,” which, though a viable rendering, may overstate, or at least muddle, the function of such statements.  I believe a better, and more helpful, way of rendering the phrase would be “to cram,” “to fill up,” “fill to the fullness,” “to fully preach,” “to execute,” or “to perfect,” James Strong, The New Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible, (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1995, 1996), Greek 4134, 4137.  Thus, Eugene Peterson’s rendering: “This would bring the prophet’s embryonic sermon to full term,” The Message, Mt 1.22. The problem with the translation “fulfill” is that it fails to appreciate the original context of these statements, with which Matthew’s hearers would have been familiar.

While we cannot explicate each of these citations here, by way of example we can note that the initial audience who read Matthew 1.23 would have known it was a quote from Isaiah 7.14, part of the prophet’s message to Ahaz, king of Judah, who reigned c 736/5-716/15 BC, John D. Watts, Word Biblical Commentary: Isaiah 1-33, (Word Books: Waco, 1985), 78.

Assyria was the “super-power” of the day, but uprisings against their dominion were common.  Around 734 BC, Pekah (king of Israel) allied with Rezin (king of Aram) to revolt against Assyria, and threatened to destroy Judah if Ahaz did not cooperate.  At this, “the heart of Ahaz and the hearts of his people trembled like trees of a forest shaking in the wind” (Isa 7.2b).  This is the context for Isaiah’s proclamation in 7.14, cited by Matthew, which is part of a larger message of assurance that if king Ahaz and the people of Judah would trust in YHWH, this threat would be averted. Isaiah declares that Aram and Israel, threatening though they may seem at the present time, will be defeated (vv 3-9), and as a sign of confirmation, “the danger will disappear so rapidly that women who are now with child will name their sons, in thankfulness for being saved, ‘Immanuel,’ ‘God with us’ (cf. Judg 6.16; Ps 46.7, 11).”  In short, Isaiah declares that this threat will be gone by the time these children are old enough to distinguish between good and evil—generally thought to be the twentieth year (see Gen 3.5; Deut 1.39), though the emphasis is on brevity rather than a specific time frame—and women will name their children Immanuel in thankful praise to YHWH, Otto Kaiser, The Old Testament Library: Isaiah 1-12, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1972), 104.

Therefore, when Matthew applies this verse to Jesus it does not mean that Isaiah was prophesying the future event of Jesus’ birth since the context of Isaiah 7.14 makes it clear that “its primary meaning requires a sign that will be fulfilled in the immediate future,” Watts, Word Biblical Commentary, 99.  Rather, Jesus, like the children during this seemingly hopeless point in Ahaz’s reign, is born into a period of threatening oppression, exploitation, and domination causing no little distress, uncertainty, and fear in the land (see Isa 7.2).  The promise of Jesus’ birth, coupled with this quotation, recalls God’s deliverance of Judah from structures and systems of oppression in the past, and God’s presence in the midst of chaos and approaching catastrophe.

Through a seemingly common, un-extraordinary event—the birth of a child—God offers a sign of hope for rescue, redemption, and restoration. The birth of a child offers the hope of new beginnings, where all that stood before Judah’s vision was a tragic and demeaning end.  Just as the birth of the child functioned as a sign of coming relief from the threat of destruction in the days of king Ahaz, so too the birth of Jesus signals relief and redemption from the systems of oppression in Matthew’s day—“[Mary] will give birth to a son, and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins” (1.21).  This is why Matthew can declare that “all this took place to πληρωθη (“fill to the full” “execute,” or “perfect”) what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet” (1.22).  Jesus, like the child of Isa 7.14, is the unexpected, easily dismissed sign of hope in hopeless times who executes, universalizes, and perfects the hope of God’s presence for those suffering under the threat (or actuality) of captivity, oppression, and exploitation.

Such a reading allows us to appreciate the original context of the text as well as Matthew’s declaration that Jesus re-enacts these past situations, bringing them to fuller and more wide-reaching manifestations.  For the initial audience, such connections would have been clear.  For us, it requires understanding the context of the OT citation as best we can.  Failure to do so will inevitably result in misunderstandings and interpretations that miss connections the writer sought to make, turning them into proof texts of Messianic identity rather than a demonstration of Jesus’ continuity with, and πληρωθη (perfecting and filling up) of, God’s redemptive purposes.  As Dale Allison notes, “The ubiquitous scriptural citations and allusions…direct the informed reader to other books and so teach that Matthew is not a self-contained entity: much is missing.  The gospel, in other words, stipulates that it be interpreted in the context of other texts; it evokes tradition through the device of allusion.  This means that it is, in a fundamental sense, an incomplete utterance, a book full of holes.  Readers must make present what is absent; they must bring to the gospel knowledge of what it presupposes, i.e., a pre-existing collection of interacting texts, the Jewish Bible (the main source of our knowledge about the four women in the genealogy, [for example]).  The first gospel, like so much ancient Jewish literature…[is] designed to trigger intertextual exchanges which depend upon informed and imaginative reading,” The Oxford Bible Commentary, CD-ROM. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), “Introduction, F. The Nature of the Text, 1.”

So what’s significant in the birth of another Jewish child?  Not much, it seems, next to the posturing and proclamations of world powers, unless his/her name happens to be Immanuel. Then it is an event of world shaping proportions. Reading Matthew’s fulfillment citations in this manner may require rethinking the nature of the good news (gospel) of Jesus, and most certainly requires this kind of “informed and imaginative reading” to grasp the significance and implications of Matthew’s OT references.

Yes on Medicare, No on Public Option?

A few thoughts on the debates regarding health care reform…

“Medicare is our country’s health insurance program for people age 65 or older.  Medicare is financed by a portion of the payroll taxes paid by workers and their employers. It also is financed in part by monthly premiums deducted from Social Security checks” (information about medicare from ssa.gov).

That sounds remarkably similar to the essence of the public option in the 2009 health care reform bill.  Yes, you can respond that Medicare is not functioning as efficiently as it should or could.  Yes, you can respond that funding for Medicare is quickly running out and may not last through the end of the decade.  But, what I can neither understand nor accept is senators who have accepted the public health care option themselves (a.k.a. Medicare) who will deny it to their constituents.  Does anyone else see the irony in that? 

We presently have 50 senators over the age of 65, most (if not all) I presume are on Medicare–in other words, they are receiving publicly funded health care.  Yet many of those same senators (all of the republicans and a few conservative democrats) are voting against allowing Americans much worse off than themselves financially to have a public health care option. 

That doesn’t even begin to touch on the fact that ALL of our “representatives” receive the best health care available in our nation at taxpayer’s expense.  Their constituents may not be able to get any health care, much less health care at a reasonable cost or even approaching the level of their representatives, but apparently that fact doesn’t influence their vote.  It gets worse when you realize that senators cannot be denied coverage and have no lengthy waiting period (which is simply a nice term the insurance companies use for the period of time they research your history so that they can exclude anything they possibly can).  What does this mean?

Well, it seems that so long as the senators are taken care of it  matters very little to them whether their constituents are able to have affordable, reasonable health care costs and coverage (or, for the 40+ million Americans, any health care coverage at all).  Maybe they’ve been in the senate so long that they forgot they were representatives of the people and not the health insurance conglomerates.  Can you say term limits?

In short, its hypocritical at best and insidious at worst for any senator who receives the best health care coverage available in the country (and probably the world) and for those 50 senators over 65 who receive public health care (in the form of Medicare) to fight and vote against a health reform bill that seeks to provide the very people they represent with more fair and affordable coverage and a public option that provides competition for the private health care companies.  It makes you wonder who the senators opposing the bill are really representing–their constituents or the lobbyists for the health care providers?

In sum, unless the senators over 65 give up their medicare and the other senators give up their publicly-funded insurance they have no basis for denying the same opportunity for coverage to the very people they represent.  Yes on Medicare, no on a public option?  You simply cannot have it both ways.

Health Care Reform

I’ve been paying much closer attention to the news lately to keep up with the progress, details, and debates regarding health care reform.  Personally, I hope that the bill is allowed to go to debate in the Senate, and ultimately that some form of reform is passed.

What bothers me is the conservative/republican party (since, apparently, they’ve decided to divide between ultra and moderate republicans) throwing out the increased costs that will ensue.

I’m fine with them not wanting to expand the government or increase spending/costs.  That’s been the traditional republican party line.  However, republicans just before Bush left office, were fully supportive of a $350 billion stimulus package to boost the economy, and seemed initially supportive of Obama giving out more stimulus money–following Bush’s tactics (yes, some were critical, but unless you critiqued Bush’s approach it seems unfair to critique Obama’s continuation of this effort).

Personally, I don’t feel that the stimulus helped, and giving the money to the banks just led to more corruption and abuse, rewarding the very people who got of into this financial crisis to begin with.  But I digress.

As I said, I’m getting increasingly annoyed by the Republicans protests of the bill based on the increased the costs when they and the Bush administration passed the aforementioned stimulus and also drastically increased the deficit to fund military actions in other countries.  Say what you will–that it’s protecting America’s overseas interests, that it’s protecting America from terrorists, that it’s advancing democracy and freedom–the military/defense budget last year was nearly $1 trillion and the DAILY cost of the war in Iraq is estimated at over $700 billion dollars.

So, it appears that republicans believe it is OK to increase spending to fund the destruction of human lives–American citizens and the citizens of other countries too.  It is OK to spend extravagently on bullets and guns and tanks and bombs.  It is OK to go into debt to fund a war.  What is not OK, by republican standards, is to increase spending to fund the building up, the healing of, and the caring for human lives.  Does anyone else see the insanity of that?  How can we be OK spending $700 billion per day to fund a war and vehemently reject a spending increase to fund an effort to provide health care for our citizens?

1 Cor. 1.10-4.21 and Non-Violent Atonement

1 Corinthians 1.10-4.21

 

In the first extant letter to the believers at Corinth, Paul opens with a prolonged contrast between the wisdom of God and the wisdom of the world in order to rebuke and correct the haughty attitude that had arisen in the community.  In 1.11-12 Paul sets forth the problem that he will be addressing in 1.13-4.21—“there are quarrels among you…each of you says, ‘I belong to Paul,’ or ‘I belong to Apollos,’ or ‘I belong to Cephas,’ or ‘I belong to Christ.’”  Their over-inflated self worth had led to factionalism based upon the apostolic figure with which persons (or groups) affiliated.  In responding, Paul speaks of “the message of the cross” which revealed the wisdom of God (1.18).  This message is perceived as folly by worldly standards, but it is the source of true wisdom from God’s perspective.  It is remembering and living out the message of the cross that will enable the believers to “be in agreement,” to have “no divisions among [them]” and to “be united in the same mind and the same purpose” (1.10).

 

What is significant for our purposes is how Paul speaks of the cross in refuting the inflated egos of the Corinthian converts.  They are claiming spiritual maturity and authority over and against one another, clamoring for the highest position within the community—based on the apostolic figure of their choosing (1.12), their supposed “knowledge” (8.2), and/or their particular spiritual gifts (chs. 12-14).  When they do so, Paul reveals that they are acting in accordance with worldly wisdom, not in accordance with the wisdom of God.  The wisdom of God is revealed in the proclamation of Jesus Christ crucified (1.23), and this wisdom leads to unity of mind and purpose (1.10b). 

 

The interpretations often set forth regarding Paul’s references to the crucifixion seem to derive from a presumed atonement model.  Reading the text from an atonement model of ransom, satisfaction, or penal substitution obviously colors Paul’s statements about Jesus’ crucifixion.  It reads into any references to the cross much more than seems present in the text itself.  And while I recognize that I am reading the text from a non-violent atonement model, I believe it to be more true to what Paul actually says.  Let me explain.

 

The first implicit reference to the cross is found in 1.13, where Paul sarcastically asks is he was crucified υπερ (for or because of?) the Corinthians.[1]  The first explicit references comes in 1.17, where Paul declares that he was not sent to baptize, “but to proclaim the good news, and not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power.”  J. Paul Sampley comments that “Paul’s focus is constantly on the good news, which always means Christ’s death and resurrection, symbolized here by the single term cross.”[2]  Though Paul simply reveals that he proclaimed good news so that the cross may not be emptied of power by worldly wisdom, Sampley extrapolates much more, asserting that Jesus’ death is “good news,” which clearly indicates an atonement model in which death is necessary for liberation (salvation).  This may be Paul’s meaning, but it cannot be derived from such a terse statement.  Similarly, Marion Soards suggests that “above all, the shocking claim that God saves humanity in the cross of Jesus Christ demonstrates that God works in defiance of this world’s norms.”[3]  The verse says nothing about how “God saves humanity.”  It is a statement about the manner of Paul’s proclamation (“not with eloquent wisdom”) and the purpose thereof (“so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power”).  In light of the contrast between worldly wisdom and divine wisdom that follows (1.18-25), it seems that to proclaim the good news with “eloquent wisdom” would be to remove the foolishness of divine wisdom, and therefore empty it of its power.  For Paul, the transforming power of the good news is found in its subversion of worldly wisdom, which is the powerful message of the cross.  The focus is on the contrast between wordly and divine wisdom, not on the efficacy of Jesus’ death.   Finally, regarding Paul’s statements in vv 10-17 Craig Blomberg writes, “Neither Paul nor any other human leader was crucified for the world’s sins, so how can these Christians so exalt merely moral authorities?” and “When we recognize the cross and all it stands for—the atoning, substitutionary sacrifice of the God-man for sinners in need of salvation, vindicated by his bodily resurrection and exaltation—we have identified the cluster of complementary and fundamental truths that must forever form the core of Christian faith.”[4]  While the verse says Paul was sent to proclaim the good news “so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power.”  Implicitly Blomberg reveals his presumed atonement model by adding “for the world’s sins” as the meaning of Paul’s reference to the cross of Christ, and explicitly in noting “the atoning, substitutionary sacrifice of the God-man for sinners in need of salvation.”  Again, this may be Paul’s thought, but it cannot be inferred from this statement alone.  My point is that all of these expositions of these verses are inferring a lot of information not provided by Paul.  Clearly Paul had shared the good news with these converts during his initial visit, so they would have understood what Paul was assuming in his question “was Paul crucified υπερ you,” and by his reference to “the cross of Christ.”  Nevertheless, we cannot claim that Paul’s oblique reference to crucifixion in this verse necessarily implies everything that these commentators claim.  They are extrapolating a lot from a text that offers no explanation of the phrase “the cross of Christ” and which assumes a substitutionary translation of υπερ (in the place of). Furthermore, what follows in 1.18-25 seems to challenge an assertion that connects God’s saving work solely to Jesus’ death on a cross.  In other words, it isn’t perfectly clear that a ransom, satisfaction, or penal substitution atonement model is what Paul is setting forth here. 

 

When we come to 1.18, we find Paul explaining that preaching any other way would have emptied the cross of its power because “the message of the cross is foolishness” by the standards of eloquent (worldly) wisdom.  However, “for those who are being saved” this same message “is the power of God” (1.18b).  You’ll notice that Paul’s statement is about the message of the cross, not Jesus’ death on the cross per se.  This doesn’t rule out the possibility that the message Paul’s speaks of is Jesus’ death as a sacrifice to ransom us, or satisfy God’s honor, or impute his righteousness to us.  It only means that this statement is about a message that seems foolish to those who are perishing, but wisdom to those being liberated.  When we read this statement in light of 1.20-25, we find that God’s wisdom is manifested in the proclamation of the cross, which is the power and wisdom of God (1.24b) that liberates (saves) those who believe (1.21b).  Though it seems ridiculous and weak by human standards, “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength” (1.25).  Thus, it seems possible to understand the cross as the culmination of the revelation of God’s foolish wisdom that subverts the wise folly of the world.  In other words, it is possible to understand Paul’s references to the cross from a model of non-violent atonement because the focus is not on the efficacy of Jesus’ death, but on the wisdom of God revealed through the proclamation of the cross.  This need not understand the cross as an atoning sacrifice, but could easily be understood as the culmination of a revolution that exposes the foolishness of the worldly wisdom through the divine folly of non-violent resistance. 

 

Building on this contrast between wisdom and folly, Paul calls the Corinthians to consider their own calling (1.26-30).  Here is where we see Paul revealing (from our perspective) and recalling (from the Corinthian’s perspective) what he means by “the message of the cross.”  “Not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth” (1.26b).  Yet they were chosen by God, because “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are nothing, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God” (1.27-29).  This, Paul declares, is the message of the cross—that God’s method is to use the world’s folly to manifest divine wisdom, to shame and reduce to nothing the wisdom of the world in order that no one may boast.  Paul closes the section by declaring that “God is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption” so that all boasting would be “in the Lord” (1.30-31).  What we discover about Paul’s proclamation of the cross is that it focuses on subverting the wisdom of the world by using apparent foolishness to reveal true, divine wisdom.  It seems that there is no message about Jesus’ death apart from his life.  That is, Jesus’ death, for Paul, is inexplicable apart from his life, because it is simply the final and fullest demonstration of the wisdom of God that subverts the foolish wisdom of the world and reveals the wise folly of God.  Therefore, I believe we could faithfully interpret 1.30-31 as follows: Jesus became for us, in his life and death, the wisdom from God, making him our righteousness and sanctification and redemption in so far as he liberates us from the folly of human wisdom and enables us to live by divine wisdom.  The message of the cross is a pattern of behavior that the Corinthians are to follow just as Paul has.

 

In 2.2 Paul recalls his actions in his initial visit: “I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom.  For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”  About this statement Soards says that it reveals “the crucial reality of the cross as God’s work for salvation….because Paul understood Christ’s death on the cross to be the revealed reality of God’s extraordinary saving power.  Paul points to the power of God effecting salvation in the cross and in the cross alone.”[5]    You’ll notice that the verse says nothing about the cross as “God’s work for salvation” or “God effecting salvation in the cross.”  The verse speaks of Paul’s message, which was “Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”  This is significant, because, as we have seen, Paul’s references to the cross in the first four chapters are always linked to the message that he proclaimed, not a developed statement about the significance of Jesus’ death on the cross (i.e. not an atonement model). To me, Soards seems to force an interpretation upon the text based on an atonement model rather than looking at what the text actually states.  The verse says nothing about the salvific effects of Jesus’ death on the cross.  It only reveals that Paul proclaimed Jesus’ death to the Corinthians while present with them.  Paul’s statement is about the content of his preaching, not about the atonement wrought by Jesus’ death.  This is true throughout 1.10-4.21.  Moreover, Philipp Bachmann has argued that “v 2 cannot define the compass of the preaching, but only its quality.”[6]  If this is true, as seems likely based on the immediate context (2.1-5), the reference to the cross is about the humble, foolish wisdom of God that refuses to conform the message to the standards of worldly wisdom, but proclaims the message of God’s liberation in such a manner that “faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God” (2.5b).

 

At this point, since I’ve acknowledged that the commentators may be correct in extrapolating Paul’s intended meaning from these oblique statements about the cross, you’re probably wondering what is my basis for questioning the common interpretation of “the message of the cross” as Jesus’ atoning death for our sins that either ransoms us from Satan, satisfies God’s just wrath and reconciles God and humanity, and/or imputes our sins to Jesus and imputes God’s righteousness to humanity.  The impetus for my belief that “the message of the cross” needs be reexamined and possibly reinterpreted arises from Paul’s comments in 2.6-16, particularly 2.8.  In 1.10-2.5 Paul has set forth the message of the cross that is perceived as folly according to the standards of the world.  This message reveals the wisdom of God that “liberates (saves) those who believe” (2.21b), by exposing as folly and rendering void the world’s wisdom (1.28) and providing a model for behavior (2.1-5).  Then, in 2.6-16 Paul heightens the contrast between divine and human wisdom, revealing that those operating by worldly standards crucified Jesus because they failed to comprehend the wisdom of God he manifested.  “None of the rulers of this age [that is, those acting according to worldly wisdom] understood [the wisdom of God], for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (2.8).  Here Paul reveals that the death of Jesus was not a necessity to appease God’s wrath (satisfaction atonement), pay off the devil’s claims upon humanity (ransom atonement), or to impute righteousness to humanity (penal substitution atonement).  Rather, Jesus’ death resulted from “the rulers of this age” failing to see the wisdom of God in the person of Jesus and killing him for proclaiming a subversive wisdom. 

 

In light of 2.8, the question becomes, how could Paul hold to one of the aforementioned atonement models, all of which declare the necessity of Jesus’ death on the cross for human salvation, and yet declare that “if [the rulers of this age] had [understood the wisdom of God in the way of Jesus], they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (2.8)?  The “if” in verse 8 seems to imply contingency and, by implication, the non-necessity of Jesus’ death.  Thus, it is not Jesus’ death on the cross per se that is Paul’s focus.  Much less does he claim that Jesus’ death brings salvation (at least not in the terms of the traditional atonement models).  Rather, it is through proclaiming the foolish wisdom of God in the cross of Jesus—a message proclaimed through the folly of humble words (1.17; 2.1-5) and actions (4.6-13)—that brings liberation from the folly of worldly wisdom and redemption through the wisdom of God’s folly (1.18-25). 

 

This has profound implications for understanding what Paul means by “the message about the cross.”  Given the contingency of 2.8, we can safely assert that in 1.10-4.21 Paul never claims that Jesus’ death on the cross is the means of salvation.  That is, he never offers up a satisfaction atonement theory about the death of Jesus per se.  Rather, Paul reveals that the proclamation of the cross reveals the wisdom of God which brings and is salvation or liberation (1.18-25).  Paul reveals the message of the cross as a way of life, lived according to God’s wisdom, the folly of which is wiser than human wisdom and the weakness of which is stronger than human strength (1.25).    Paul sets forth the message of the cross as a message of our liberation from the wisdom of the world.  Those who do not see the wisdom of God in the folly of the cross are still “of the flesh…behaving according to human inclinations” (3.3) by striving for superiority through apostolic association (3.4). Those who see the wisdom of God in the folly of the cross have the mind of Christ (2.16b), and those who have the mind of Christ do not strive for positions of power and influence and authority over others.  Rather, they live in and live out of the way of the cross by becoming “fools for the sake of Christ” (4.10a).  They recognize the folly of a “power over others” model (the wisdom of the world) and accept the folly of a “power under others” model (the wisdom of God seen in the cross of Christ).  When reviled they bless, when persecuted they patiently endure, when slandered they respond with kindness (4.12).  They manifest the wisdom of God through the proclamation of the cross, which, for Paul, seems to summarize the way of life embodied by Jesus—a self-sacrificial, other-centered, humble, non-violent revolution of love that gives of oneself even to the point of death.  Such is the wisdom of God. It is by having the mind of Christ, which operates according to the wisdom of God, that the Corinthians can be united once more (cf. 1.10; 2.16b).

 

In sum, we have seen that when Paul mentions the cross, it is in the context of his proclamation (1.17; 1.18; 1.21; 1.23; 2.1-2; 2.7-8).  The wisdom of God is manifested in the proclamation of the cross, which exposes the world’s wisdom as folly.  It is precisely this worldly wisdom, which Paul says is informing the quarrels and factions among the Corinthians.  If they lived by God’s wisdom, the wisdom of the cross, they would give up their rights and privileges for the sake of others, they would put others above themselves, they would manifest love rather than boasting, they would be humble rather than haughty, they would seek to be servants of all rather than obtaining power over all.  In short, in responding to the Corinthians’ claims of spiritual maturity and authority, Paul offers up the message of the cross, which is absolute folly by worldly standards, because it gives up rights and authority and power over others, triumphing through seeming defeat and humiliation.  Therefore, I believe that in 1 Cor 1.10-4.21 Jesus’ death on the cross is set forth as the paradigm of discipleship, not as an atonement for sins.  The death was not essential (2.8), though it was likely unavoidable since Jesus came proclaiming a foolish wisdom from God that challenged, exposed, and subverted the world’s wisdom by refusing to operate by its standard of power over others.  In short, while Paul may have set forth a satisfaction atonement model elsewhere, this was not his intention here.  And the contingency of 2.8 should inform how we understand references to the cross not only this letter, but in Paul’s other writings as well.  At the very least it is possible to claim that in certain instances Paul offers up the cross as forth a paradigm of discipleship rather than as a ransom, satisfaction, or penal substitution atonement model.

 

 

---

[1] The usage of the Greek preposition υπερ is one of the more debated matters regarding one’s atonement model.  As Daniel B. Wallace notes, “The normal preposition used in texts that purportedly deal with Christ’s substitutionary atonement is υπερ” (Greek Grammar Beyond the Bascis, 383).  Moreover, “the case for a substitutionary sense for υπερ is faced with the difficulty that the preposition can bear several other nuances that, on a lexical level, at least, are equally plausible in the theologically significant passages” (383).  Nevertheless, Wallace concludes that “υπερ is naturally suited to the meaning of substitution,” but his admission of “several other nuances that…are equally plausible” seems to make possible a non-violent reading of Paul’s question in 1.13, as well as other places where υπερ is used with reference to Jesus’ death (383).  Wallace reveals many instances in biblical and extra biblical texts where he believes that υπερ is used in a substitutionary sense, concluding that “although it is possible that substitution is not the sense of υπερ in some of the soteriologically significant texts [he lists Deut 24.16; Isa 43.3-4; Judith 8.12; Rom 9.3; Phlm 13; 2 Cor 5.14; Gal 3.13; Jn 11.50; 1 Tim 2.6]…the burden of proof falls on those who would deny such a sense in the others” (388).  Though Wallace’s treatment gives the impression that the case is, for all intents and purposes, closed, his acknowledgement that υπερ is used in other ways elsewhere coupled with his neglect to provide any such examples in his argument leaves me to question his approach, which fails to deal with any instances that challenge his conclusion.  While he acknowledges other uses, it appears that Wallace would rather build a wall of evidence supporting his claim and challenge anyone to try and tear it down, rather than addressing texts that use υπερ in a non-substiutionary manner.  As I will demonstrate later, Paul’s statement in 2.8 offers a direct challenge to a substitutionary interpretation of υπερ in Paul’s question in 1.13.  One example of a non-subsitutionary use of υπερ can be found in Philippians 2.13, where Paul says that “God is at work in [the Philippian converts] both to will and to work υπερ God’s (good) pleasure.”  A substitutionary understanding of υπερ would make this a rather confusing statement—God is at work instead of, in the place of, as a substitution for God’s good pleasure?  How can God work in substitution for God’s good pleasure?  It makes better sense to understand υπερ as causal.  God is working because (as a result) of God’s good pleasure.  It is God’s good pleasure (της ευδοκιας) that causes (υπερ) God’s working and willing in the lives of the Philippians converts.  A second example is possibly Gal 1.4, where Paul says του δοντος εαυτον υπερ των αμαρτιων ημων οπως εξεληται ημας εκ του ενεστωτος αιωνος του ενεστωτος πονηρου.  Most translate the verse, “Who gave himself for our sins” (NRSV, TNIV, NASB, Phillips, etc) “to set us free from the present evil age.”  Problematic with the interpretation “for,” in the sense of Jesus as substitution for our sins, is that throughout the letter Paul does not say that redemption happens because of faith in Jesus’ death on the cross.  Rather, it is simply “faith in Jesus”—perhaps better translated “the faithfulness of Jesus”—that brings redemption (cf. 2.16, 20; 3.22).  Moreover, one must assume that when Paul says “gave himself” he means Jesus’ death rather than Jesus offering his life as the means of liberation “from the present evil age” by calling people to turn from a path that leads to destruction and into a path that leads to redemption—this seems to be the thrust of Jesus’ statement “the Kingdom of God has come near to you, repent and believe the good news” (Mk 1.15) and his call for people to follow him (Mk 1.17).   Therefore, it seems difficult, if not impossible, to affirm the more popular atonement models based on the fact that Paul does not mention Jesus’ death (at least explicitly), nor does he say that we are liberated from Satan (ransom) or God’s wrath because of God’s offended honor (satisfaction) or by having our sinfulness imputed to Jesus and his righteousness imputed to us (penal substitution).  Rather, we are “set free (liberated) from the present evil age,” which seems to affirm a view closer to Christus Victor, and thus, not as distant from a non-violent atonement model as one may infer from an initial reading.  Finally, it seems plausible to translate the statement in a way that aligns with a non-violent perspective: “Because of our sins he gave himself to set us free.”  By this reading the death is not necessary to set us free, it is the self-giving of Jesus that liberates us “from the present evil age.”  In this reading, “he gave himself” is not in substitution for our sins, but as a result of our sins Jesus came to bring liberation.  The former focuses solely on Jesus’ death, the latter focuses on Jesus’ life.    These examples certainly aren’t definitive evidence that Paul’s statement in 1 Cor 1.13 should be read as causally (“was Paul crucified because of you?”) with the implication that Jesus’ death was because of the Corinthians who represent, prior to their conversion, the wisdom of the world in opposition to the wisdom of God.  However, it does demonstrate that Paul uses υπερ causally at a period roughly contemporaneous to writing 1 Corinthians.  Moreover, the context of Phil 2.13 is that of Christ’s self-giving, even to the point of death, which is used as the basis to exhort the converts to emulate this self-less giving (2.1-18), not to call them to accept Jesus’ death as a substitutionary atonement for their sins.  

In other words, the cross for Paul is set forth, at least in several instances, as a paradigm for discipleship (cf. Mk 8.34) rather than a substitutionary sacrifice.  It seems, then, that it is at least plausible, to understand the question “was Paul crucified υπερ you?” as “was Paul crucified because of you?” (a death caused by the Corinthians who represent worldly wisdom) rather than “for you?” (a substitutionary death on behalf of the Corinthians).

[2] NIB, 1.17, 2040.

[3] NIBC, 35.

[4] NIV App, 44, 47 (emphasis added).

[5] Soards, NIBC, 53.

[6] Quoted in Conzellman, Heremenia, 54, footnote 14.

Mark 11 – The Challenge of Prophetic Ministry

In the gospel of Mark the entry into the Jerusalem temple is found in chapter 11. Since Mark’s gospel is 16 chapters in length, the events we find here come near the end of the story.  Therefore, we need to put the story in context, because it helps clarify the meaning of the stories that we find in these two chapters.

Mark’s gospel has a dialectical structure, meaning; it follows a pattern of thought that suggests a “thesis” or proposition, which is then countered, clarified, corrected, and expanded by an “antithesis,” which then results in a conclusion, resolution or “synthesis.” In Mark, this pattern is seen in its portrayal of Jesus as the Messiah (see Luke Timothy Johnson’s The Writings of the New Testament).

Mark 1.1-8.26 is the “thesis,” where Jesus is seen as the worker of mighty deeds. Throughout these opening 8 ½ chapters Jesus goes around healing people of diseases, physical and mental illnesses, casting out demons, raising the dead, and so on and so forth. Jesus is the divine miracle worker.

Then in Mark 8.27-30 Jesus has gathered his disciples at Caesarea Philippi, where he asks them “who do people say that I am?” Peter, speaking for the entire group, declares that Jesus is the Messiah, and Jesus instructs them not to tell anyone about this.

In Mark 8.31-15.38 we encounter the “antithesis,” where Jesus is seen as the suffering servant, one who will endure much suffering for his message and actions, and ultimately will be put to death.

The synthesis (or resolution) comes in Mark 15.39, when for the first time someone truly grasps what it means to call Jesus the Messiah. The recognition and declaration is not made by one of Jesus’ disciples—they have already abandoned him after he was arrested. Rather, it comes from a Roman soldier, one who had just participated in Jesus’ crucifixion, has his eyes opened somehow, and declares “truly this man was a son of God.”

So, why is all of this background and context necessary and important?

It’s important because it reveals how Jesus’ actions in our story contrast and subvert the messianic hopes and visions of the people of Israel. It’s important because we too sometimes want a God who is the cosmic miracle worker, who conquers through signs and wonders and miraculous acts of power.  We don’t often want the God who conquers through humble love and selfless giving even to the point of death.  You see, Jesus’ entrance into the Temple subverts the establishment, the tradition, the unquestioned assumptions and beliefs of his day. It is a prophetic action and critique that leads to his execution. Let’s walk through the story and see what I mean by that.

In preparation for his entrance into Jerusalem, Jesus sends his disciples ahead of him to find him a young colt to ride into the city. Jesus has been walking around the entire narrative, so why would he need a donkey to ride now? It’s not that Jesus is suddenly tired and needs help making it into the city, the action is symbolic (as all prophetic action is), and is meant to contrast and refute the popular messianic hopes. The donkey was a symbol of peace, in contrast to a horse which was a symbol of war.

Jesus enters on a donkey, proclaiming that he comes to bring peace not violence, but the crowds (and the disciples) are too caught up in their nationalistic hopes and ambitions to recognize the irony of their shouts. Jesus is well-known at this point. News about his prophetic words and deeds have spread, and so when he makes his way into Jerusalem the people are expecting him to begin a revolution that will overthrow the Romans, and establish an independent Israel once again. Listen to the nationalistic slogans they shout as Jesus rides into the city:

“Save us now! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of YHWH! Blessed is the coming kingdom of David! Save us! Save us now!”

It’s an effort to compel Jesus to begin another revolution of violence and war to overthrow Israel’s oppressors. It wasn’t a novel idea with Israel. It had been attempted before and would be so again. It’s not a novel idea with humanity. We always want God to love who we love and hate who we hate. We always associate God with our nationalistic dreams and ambitions, thinking that we are the chosen people of God, and that God only loves and blesses us and no one else. We see this ideology throughout history. From the time of Homer’s Iliad to present day, it is a nationalistic deity that we desire, who will affirm everything we affirm and defend our causes and justify our violence and wars.

This kind of mindset is what is fueling these chants as Jesus enters into the city. Take back our land for YHWH and for Israel! For God and country, go out and fight against and destroy our evil Roman oppressors! YHWH is our God alone, who hates the Romans and loves us, and is about to bring judgment upon them through the revolutionary leadership of the Messiah.

Yet Jesus disappoints the crowds and shatters their expectations and nationalistic dreams of a violent overthrow in YHWH’s name. Jesus goes, not to the center of Roman military and political authority, but to the center of Jewish life, the Temple. It’s not the triumphal entry most had hoped for. It’s not really a triumphal entry at all—at least by the standards of the day.

Rather than coming in and beginning a insurgency, Jesus walks into the Temple, surveys what is happening, takes in all the sights and sounds, and then walks back to Bethany (a town just outside Jerusalem) with his disciples. It’s rather anticlimactic really. The crowds gather to cheer their hope for political liberation, their desire for a revolution to overthrow their oppressors, and the one on whom they have placed these hopes doesn’t offer any prophetic critique or denunciation of the Roman authorities. Rather, he quietly makes his way into the Temple, looks around, and then leaves. And, I imagine, many were dismayed and confused and upset, wondering what kind of deliverer is this?

The disappointment and disenchantment is evident the next day. When Jesus again returns to Jerusalem there are no crowds cheering his arrival, no nationalistic slogans being proclaimed, no more than a faint and silent hope in the hearts of the people who happen to notice his arrival that he will bring the hoped-for overthrow of Rome and restoration of the nation of Israel.

Again, Jesus makes his way to the Temple, but this time he begins overturning tables and driving out merchants and moneychangers. It’s a revolution, of sorts, but against the leadership and aristocracy of Israel not Rome. To disrupt the Temple activities, however briefly it may have lasted, was to challenge the leaders who had authorized such practices in the first place. The moneychangers and merchants didn’t just “set up shop” one day in the outer precincts of the Temple known as the courts of the Gentiles. No, their presence there had been authorized by the priests who carried out and regulated the Temple rituals.

These merchants and moneychangers served a purpose. Like today, there were many forms of currency circulating, but the currency accepted was of a different kind. This is where the moneychangers became necessary. All the worshippers who came to the temple had to exchange their coins for the temple currency, and like today, there was a fee that came with the currency exchange. The worshippers would also need an animal to offer as a sacrifice for whatever festival it happened to be. Since many of them traveled some distance to get to the temple, purchasing an animal upon arrival was more prudent. So, the merchants were there to provide animals that fit the regulations for animal sacrifices. Ceasing the activity of these individuals was a hindrance to the temple’s activities. Without them the system couldn’t function very well.

So, while Jesus may be critiquing their presence in the temple of Gentiles, preventing Gentile worshippers from having a place to pray and commune with God, his interruption of their activity seems to be a rejection of the temple and its rituals rather than a reform of it. It’s a critique and condemnation of the system that nationalized YHWH, that made God their sole possession, that had turned their gaze inward, that had forgotten that they were called to be a nation of priests, that is, a nation that bore witness to the reign and rule of God in human history by practicing compassion, mercy, grace, love, and embrace of the stranger, the outsider, the outcast, the downcast, the “other.” They had turned a message of good news for the entire world into a proclamation of good news for themselves and bad news for everyone else. God became their national god rather than the God who loves all the peoples of the world.

It’s so easy to fall into this way of thinking and acting. And, from a distance, it’s hard to tell the difference. That’s the point of the story about the fig tree that frames the Temple episode. From a distance the tree looks fruitful, but upon closer inspection it is nothing more than the appearance of fruitfulness while no fruit exists on the tree. The story about the fig tree is really a story about the Temple. The temple is characterized by Jesus as what I would call a withered thriving. It appears fruitful but it isn’t. It appears to be pleasing to God but it isn’t. It’s full of busyness, but its actions have distorted the point of it all. Jesus’ critique of the temple is the same critique made by the prophets of ancient Israel, who rejected ceremony devoid of meaning, form devoid of substance. They would boldly declare that God didn’t want a bunch of empty rituals and ceremonies; in fact, the prophets reveal that God hated them, because what God wanted was for justice and righteousness, compassion and grace to be manifested on the earth.

I think the parallel for us is to ask whether we’re often more focused on and concerned with the form of things (whether we like the style of music or the style of preaching of the format of all our myriad programs) or with the substance of things (whether justice and mercy and compassion are being manifested in the world). We need to ask ourselves whether our focus is on a bunch of programs that try to attract people to our building, our particular gathering of believers, or whether our focus is on sharing the good news of God’s grace with anyone and everyone, not to try and get them to join our church but simply because it is a message of good news that we believe everyone needs to hear? And we need to ask ourselves whether we’ve tried to make God our national, tribal deity who loves who we love and hates who we hate, who affirms our violence and hatred and war as more righteous, who loves us and blesses us and is our God alone?

Imitating Jesus in his prophetic endeavors requires much faith. Challenging the unquestioned assumptions of a people—whether it be the assumptions and ideology of a nation or of a local church—is no small or easy task. Sometimes being prophetic means exposing the false realities that we’ve constructed, revealing that the very foundations that seemed incontrovertible are in fact defective. Put another way, as the salt of the earth and the light of the world, following Jesus’ example means revealing that the food we thought pleasant was actually devoid of flavor and the light we thought we were walking in was in fact darkness.

As Jesus reveals in verses 20-24, such a task is never easy. Indeed, it is like “saying to a mountain, get up and be moved into the sea,” because questioning unquestioned assumptions is like trying to move a mountain with mere words. Yet, Jesus encourages his disciples (and you and I) by telling them (us) that if we trust in God and his redemptive way of life—the seemingly foolish way of loving our God by loving our neighbor as our self, of loving our enemies, praying for our persecutors, putting others above ourselves, forgiving any and all who wrong us, turning the other cheek, walking the extra mile, giving our shirt as well as our coat, caring for the poor and lonely and despised and outcast, doing justly, loving mercy, and walking in humility before God—such faith can and will move mountains, even those as seemingly immovable as the unquestioned ideologies of a nation.

Article on Social Justice

http://baptistheritagecouncil.com/newsletter.pdf

Patriot Bible??

Though I was disturbed when I read Brian Kaylor’s EthicsDaily.com article (http://www.ethicsdaily.com/news.php?viewStory=14259) about the new addition of the most recent push for wedding church and state in America, I can’t say that I’m surprised.  The reality is that there have been Christians who have sought to do so from the founding of our country, and have succeeded in doing so in the world powers before the United States.  There is the old adage that reads something like “those who don’t learn from history will repeat its mistakes.”  Some Christians have thought themselves exempt from this rule or simply ignored it altogether, as the push to defend and promote “God and country” seems rather cyclical.

Far too often it seems that Christians would rather make YHWH into a tribal deity that loves who we love and hates who we hate.  Never mind that the biblical narrative makes it clear that God loves and is working to redeem all of creation.  Never mind that this ideology has led to the slaughter of people in the name of the God in events like the Crusades and the Inquisition.  Never mind that this “city on a hill” mentality encouraged the disregard for fellow human beings through the forced relocation of the natives of the current United states and the enslavement of imported Africans.  Never mind that this tribal deity ideology was used to defend the horrific violence of war in the name of the God of love who taught us to turn the other cheek.

One of the dark ironies of this decade has been the pejorative caricature of Islam as a violent faith tradition bent on destroying anyone who disagrees with them through jihads based on the actions of a few militant extremists.  The unstated assumption in many conservative churches and religious broadcasts in America is that all Muslims support and encourage this sort of radical behavior.  The reality is that most Muslims do not support or encourage such behavior, and the better segments of their faith tradition affirm the same values and morals and ideals as the better segments of the Judeo-Christian faith tradition.  And though this may anger some to state it so blatantly, one has to wonder what the difference is between the actions of the Islamic terrorists who act in the name of Allah and the actions of the U.S. military when they are supported and defended by the name of YHWH?

My concern with publications such as the Patriot Bible is that people fail to recognize the universal scope of God’s redemptive work.  They confine God to one nation by equating YHWH with the United States or Great Britain before that or Spain before that or the Roman Empire before that, and thus God is “on the hook” for anything and everything done by these nations.  And then we wonder why there is sometimes a strong resistance to sharing the Christian faith among the peoples of the world in former colonial holdings of these nations.

Patriotism is well and good.  I’m thankful to have been born in America where we are free to believe and worship and speak freely.  I’m thankful for the men and women who serve to defend our nation.  As a Christian I personally have trouble with the idea of fighting and possibly killing other human beings in war, I feel that this is a grey area that must be decided by every individual person, and my views on the matter shouldn’t be forced upon others.  I also think America has done some very good things for its people and for the world.  Yet the more God and country become intertwined the more harm we do to the way of Jesus who came proclaiming another and a better way.  A way that did not use God to justify violence and war, but embodied a way of change through non-violent resistance to the systems and structures of oppression and violence and hatred and bigotry and classism and nationalism and racism and sexism.  It’s difficult to understand and tragic to imagine the words “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” printed alongside notes exalting the building of a self-proclaimed Christian nation that, like all the others nations and empires of the world past and present, has far too often disregarded these humble words of redemptive grace and taken up the sword, believing that our enemies are God’s enemies and the actions of America are equated with the actions of God.

what does your theology have to say?

As a Christian minister who has grown up in the church, I’ve heard a lot about the numerous debates about doctrinal and theological positions on matters.   As a Christian minister of the baptist denomination, I’ve heard a lot more than I care to about the bickering and fighting about doctrinal and theological positions on matters.  Somehow the Church has defined itself in this manner.

While I certainly enjoy a good theological discussion, and do feel that one’s theology certainly shapes how one chooses to live, sometimes we can get very sidetracked over petty things, rather than addressing the more pressing economic and societal matters–such as creation care and social justice issues–which ought to be central to our theological discussions.  Any theology that does not place care for the earth and for one another, and that does not see that  justice  for animals and plants as well as for people is of utmost importance is misguided and ultimately fruitless.

So, I think the questions of utmost importance for the Church are these:

What say you about the systems of abuse in our world?  Systems that exploit people?  Systems that exploit the world?  What does your theology say about these matters?

If these issues aren’t even on our theological “radar,” I believe we’ve veered offcourse and ought to set aside other matters for those more pressing and central to the divine imperative found in Genesis 1-4, namely, that we live in harmony with God by caring for (serving) the good world he made, being representatives (images) on earth, and that we care for one another through mutual dependence and cooperation rather than continually eating of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil–assuming that we know best and that competition and exploitation rather than cooperation and compassionate concern are right and best.  The result is the Adam-Eve “blame game” and the Cain-Abel “jealous rage complext” writ large.

Consider taking some time to watch the two videos embedded here (the links have been provided if you want to watch more than the portion provided)–one about the affect of corporations (and our present global economic system) on our world and the other about the treatment of animals.  Then ask yourself this: What does your theology have to say about these things?

http://video.hsus.org/?fr_chl=222751a84208af937ad836e8b89a08d42163259e&rf=bm

Matthew 25 Revisited…

The Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, & Luke), despite their rich diversity, share many things in common. Most notable is a distinct shift in theme and emphasis roughly halfway through their narratives. More importantly, and more significantly, is the event that causes this shift in all three gospels, namely, the gathering of Jesus’ closest followers at Caesarea Philippi, where Jesus asks: “who do you say I AM?” To which Peter—boldly speaking on behalf of the group—declares: “you are the Messiah, the Son of the living God;” or something quite close to that depending on the gospel from which you may be reading. While each gospel contains it own unique outline, all three use this event as a hinge in their stories. The question and confession, then, function as a turning point in Jesus’ ministry.

Up to this point Jesus has been traveling from place to place working many miracles—healing diseases, casting out demons, raising the dead, and so on—these acts of power, these noticeable, miraculous, and electrifying deeds. And he also has been talking a lot about the Kingdom of God through parables, conversations, and other discourses. In fact, his words and deeds are so compelling that the gospel according to Mark notes that people “were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.”[1] Understandably, all that Jesus has said and done has excited and attracted many people who follow Jesus all around Galilee to see what he’ll do and say next.

Then they reach Caesarea Philippi, where Jesus will ask what his closest followers really think of him, and Peter answers correctly: “You’re the Messiah.” But then, as is often the case with the disciples (and you and I, if we’re honest), they immediately show their ignorance, their myopia, and their lack of true understanding.

At Peter’s confession Jesus suddenly shifts gears, and begins talking about how he will have to journey to Jerusalem where he will suffer and die, and how those who follow him will also suffer and may even die. He also mentions he will rise again, but the disciples either can’t comprehend what he is saying or they don’t hear this part because they are too distracted and dismayed by Jesus’ talk about suffering and dying (and can you really blame them?).

So Peter again speaks up, pulls Jesus aside, and begins to rebuke him. In other words, he tries to set Jesus straight, to tell him to quit all of this nonsense about suffering and dying, and to just keep doing all the miraculous works, the triumphant and exciting acts, because that’s really what the Messiah is supposed to be doing anyway.

Now, I don’t know about you, but when I find myself disagreeing with Jesus, I’ve always felt it best to assume that he is right and I’m wrong. It just seems to be a good policy. Yet Peter takes another approach, and voices what the other disciples were likely thinking as well. That’s not what the Messiah is supposed to do, is it? Suffering? Trials? Death? What about all the healings and miracles and teachings? Shouldn’t the Messiah just continue to do all of these things until there are no more sick, or diseased, or demon possessed, or hungry and needy people anymore? If he were truly the Messiah he wouldn’t die, but he would overtake the oppressors of Israel and establish the Davidic monarchy again, wouldn’t he? After all, the Messiah is supposed to bring good news rather than news of death and suffering, right?

The truth is, the disciples and the crowds (just as much as you and I) are attracted to the flashy, the miraculous, the exciting. All of us are enamored with “success” as defined by the predominant culture around us. The disciples and crowds were all excited to follow this man when he was healing people of diseases, raising the dead, casting out demons, teaching with authority, and so on. But start talking about suffering and trials and death and many were ready to jump ship, so to speak.

I imagine you and I, if we are honest, may feel much the same. After all, look at how we all too often talk about how “successful” churches are doing: bigger and newer buildings, larger budgets, increasing numbers of people attending and joining the church, a flashy worship band, a famous pastor, a new building campaign, and so on it goes. Or, look at how we talk about “successful” people: bigger bank accounts, more expensive clothes and fancy cars, houses bigger than we could ever possibly need even if we had 10 children, and on the list could go. All of this we label “success;” and it is, by the standards of our culture at least.

I’m not saying all of these things are necessarily wrong per se, but if this is how we measure success then I cannot help but believe we have gotten way off track as individual and as collective Christ followers. For the reality is that Jesus came proclaiming the Kingdom of God—an entirely new way of life that was characterized by concern for the poor, the needy, the outcast, the downcast, and the marginalized—not glorious cathedrals and overflowing bank accounts. He came bringing a new ethic, a new standard of success defined by faithfulness and fidelity to God. And the reality is that this new ethic, this Kingdom of God manner of life, often turned people away.

The truth is, by the prevailing standards of success in his day Jesus was a miserable failure. However, by the standards of faithfulness to God he was the most successful person to ever walk the face of the earth. Therefore, by the prevailing standards of success in our day our churches (and we as individuals) may be the most successful in our city, our state, our region, our denomination, our nation, and our world. However, by standards of faithfulness to God they may be miserable failures. So the better question for us is are we being faithful? Not are we successful—because that carries all the baggage of success as it is defined by the culture around us—but are we faithful?[2] And if we are being faithful, who in the world cares whether others deem us a success?

There is a parable toward the end of Matthew’s gospel that demonstrates what it means to be a miserable failure by all appearances and by the standards of the kingdoms of the world, yet truly be a great success according to the standards of the Kingdom of God. It’s found in chapter 25, verses 14-46.

The story is a familiar one, the so-called “parable of the talents.” I’ve read this passage so many times that I knew, or thought I knew, what the point was. Put simply: we are all given varying amounts of responsibility and gifts by God, and we are to invest them and use accordingly. The truth is, this is almost always how the parable is interpreted, and the only way I had ever heard it presented. That is, until recently. At a conference about a month ago I heard it preached correctly (I believe) for the very first time by a pastor named Amy Butler who serves a church in the Washington D.C. area. She rightly noted the connection between the parable of the talents and Jesus’ statements about the separation of the sheep and goats that immediately follows. When you read these passages as a cohesive whole rather than two disconnected sayings of Jesus, it radically changes how you read this story.[3]

So, the pressing question is what happens when we read these two passages together? What changes? Well, let us explain the parable for those less familiar with the story.

Jesus declares that the Kingdom of heaven is like a man who sets out on a journey, giving one slave five talents, another two, and another one. In short, he gives them each a different amount of money to hold on to while he is away. Now talents are actually a measure of weight, but with some conversion we know that five talents was equivalent to 30,000 denarii and 1 denarii equaled a day’s wages for the common laborer. Moreover, we can be quite sure that this master had even more money than this, because he would not have left even the majority of his wealth in the hands of three common slaves while he was away, much less all of it.

So the point is that this master is already incredibly wealthy, so much so that he is comfortable entrusting roughly 48,000 days wages to his common servants, an amount that would have widened the eyes of everyone in Jesus’ hearing. This master was at the top of society with no worries or concerns. He had more money than he could possibly know what to do with, and he departs for a lengthy vacation, leaving the money with his servants hoping to make a profit from their labor while doing nothing himself.

Upon his return he assesses the situation, rewarding and promoting the first two servants for doubling his money. So now the master has roughly 84,000 days wages, yet when he finds out the final servant only returned his one talent he becomes angry, rebukes and then demotes the slave by taking the talent given to him and giving it to the first servant so he could go make more money. He then sums up his actions with this declaration:

For to all those who have, more will be given; and they will have an abundance, but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.

Reading this in the traditional manner, this would mean that God/Jesus is the master whom the third servant reveals is a bit shady: “reaping where he did not sow and harvesting where he did not scatter seed.” In sum, the master is accused of taking what was not rightfully his. You’ll notice the master does not deny this, but accepts the judgment as accurate, telling him that he should have at least gotten some interest on the money since he knew this. He then rebukes the third servant and declares the principle that “the rich will have an abundance and the poor will lose even what meager possessions they have.” I don’t know about you, but that sounds nothing like Jesus who came to show us who God is and what he is like.

So I would submit to you that we have misunderstood the parable under the traditional manner of interpretation, and we need a new way of reading the text that takes into account the story about the separation of the sheep and goats that follows. When we do this, we will find that verse 29 is not an exhortation to use our God-given gifts or lose them—Jesus was clearly talking about money here and not gifts and abilities. Rather, the master’s statement in verse 29 is nothing more than the cultural standard of Jesus’ day and ours writ larger. It is the slogan of the power brokers who will exploit, manipulate, abuse and step upon any and everyone in order to get more. It is the motto of the rich, the powerful, the mighty, the well-to-do, and the mainstream who take from those who have none so that they will have an abundance. In sum, it is precisely the system that Jesus came to expose, it is the way of life that Jesus revolts against by offering another and a better way characterized by humility, service, and self-sacrificial love.

This is why the passage that follows begins with the word “BUT.” But when the Son of Man comes in his glory… Jesus uses the parable to reveal the systems and standards of success in the kingdoms of the world, in order to contrast them with the systems and standards of success in the Kingdom of God.

But when the Son of Man comes in his glory, he will separate people like a shepherd does with sheep and goats. The sheep are those who cared for the hungry, thirsty, estranged, naked, marginalized poor—and do not realize that when they did this unto the least of these they had done it unto Jesus. The goats are those who did not care for the hungry, thirsty, estranged, naked, marginalized poor—and failed to realize that when they did not care for those in need, but instead exploited or ignored them, they were exploiting and ignoring Jesus.

So, who are the righteous servants in the parable of the talents after all? I would submit to you that it is not the first two servants who have been exalted for far too long based on a misreading of Jesus’ parable. Rather, it is actually the third servant, the one who refuses to manipulate the less fortunate in order to make an already wealthy master even wealthier. It is the one who stood up to the powers at be, exposing those who “are harsh, reaping where they did not sow and harvesting where they did not scatter seed”. It is the slave who opposed the systems of oppression, exploitation, and manipulation of his day, which operate by the standard that “to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.”

If you feel the need to rebuke me at this point, and tell me how far off I am and how much I have misunderstood Jesus’ parable I imagine you are feeling much the same that Peter felt when Jesus started talking all that seeming non-sense about suffering and dying. I am certainly not comparing myself to Jesus, but simply noting that sometimes you can become so engrained in your culture that the words of Jesus are missed and misinterpreted as a parable about using your gifts and talents instead of a countercultural proclamation that the ways and means of the kingdoms of the world run directly contrary to the Kingdom of God, which is concerned not with helping the rich and powerful obtain an abundance but with lifting up and caring for those who do not have anything.

The radical message of the parable of the talents has been glossed over for far too long, and it would behoove us to be those who live lives that are characterized by Jesus’ radical message of faithfulness to God rather than the comfortable standards of success perpetuated by the culture and society in which we live.

If and when we do that, we may, like the third servant, find ourselves rebuked, tossed out, and condemned. In fact, Jesus told his followers as much: Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.[4] And when this happens, as it most certainly will when we choose faithfulness over success, we can at least take comfort that we are in good company, the company of the Messiah the Son of the living God, who was strung up on a tree by the power brokers of his day, but in so doing exposed all of the madness and insanity of the world, and showed us another and a better way of faithfulness rather than success.

Amen and amen.

---

[1] Mark 1.21

[2] The need to ask the question “are we being faithful?” was presented to me by Joy Yee who pastors Nineteenth Avenue Baptist Church in San Francisco, CA. She led a breakout session at the 2009 CBF Current Retreat in Orlando, FL entitled “Success or Failure: How Do We Know Which is Which?” that I had the privilege to attend. I am indebted to her for describing the dichotomy between success and faithfulness (put another way, the need to define success by faithfulness to God) so simply and humbly, yet quite profoundly.

[3] Again, I owe all the credit for my new understanding of this text to Amy Butler, pastor of Calvary Baptist Church in Washington D.C. I heard her deliver a message on this text at 2009 CBF Current Retreat, and it has radically changed how I understand the parable of the talents. While I certainly spent some time studying the passage myself to see if I agreed with her reading of the text, I cannot claim any of the credit for coming to this understanding, and will be forever indebted to her scholarship in reforming my reading of Matthew 25.14-46. You can visit the church’s website at: http://www.calvarydc.com/index.html and you can find her sermon on this passage at: http://www.calvarydc.com/Sermons/081116.html

[4] Matthew 5.10