by Doug Becker

The Role of Elders in the Church

Jesus is the head of the church, his body. His headship is mediated through his Apostles, those specifically chosen by Christ to be witnesses to his resurrection (Acts 1:21–22; 10:40–41; 13:30–31; 22:15; 1 Cor 9:1) and the instruments of his revelation (John 16:12–15). The church is built upon their ministry and teaching (Matt 16:18; Acts 1:8; 2:42; Eph 2:20–21). This is the structure set forth by Christ in the Gospels and attested to in both Acts and the New Testament Letters. Today, apostolic authority comes to us, not in the form of living Apostles, but in the written testimony of their teachings, the Scriptures.

Even in the Apostles’ day, the reality was that they couldn’t be everywhere at once, and so God gave us the church two things to extend their influence. The first is their writings, to which all our faith and practice much conform (1 Cor 14:37–38; 1 Thess 2:13). The second is godly men chosen because of their character and their ability to safeguard sound doctrine. These leaders are known in the New Testament as elders, and are appointed with the specific aim of providing leadership and teaching in local congregations (Acts 14:22–23; Tit 1:5; 2 Tim 2:1–2, 12). And so, we arrive at the following definition: An elder is a man who is entrusted with the authority to lead and teach a specific church, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and in accordance with the Word of God.

As far as we can tell, all the early churches had multiple elders. References to them from the earliest years of the church are scattered throughout the New Testament, and the casual nature of these many occurrences suggests that their presence is simply a given. Aside from the places referenced in the previous paragraph that focus explicitly on the appointment of elders, they are present in the central church in Jerusalem alongside the Apostles (Acts 15:2, 4, 6, 22; 16:4; 21:18) and in Ephesus during Paul’s return trip to Jerusalem (20:17); they conferred eldership on Timothy through the laying on of hands (1 Tim 4:14); their presence and roles as leaders and teachers are assumed (1 Tim 5:17, 19; Jas 5:14); church members are instructed to submit to them (1 Pet 5:5); and certain apostles even refer to themselves in this way (1 Pet 5:1; 2 John 1; 3 John 1). It is also noteworthy that some of these mentions occur in letters that were to be copied and disseminated to churches in wide geographical regions (i.e., James and 1 Peter).[1]

The New Testament gives several names to the leaders of local congregations. Of these, “elder” (Gk. presbūteros) is the most common. In addition, “overseer” (episkopos) also occurs (Acts 20:28; Phil 1:1; 1 Tim 3:2; Tit 1:7).[2] The noun “shepherd” (poimēn), from which we derive our word “pastor” occurs only once with reference to church leadership (Eph 4:11), and the verbal form “to shepherd” occurs twice (poimainō, Acts 20:28; 1 Pet 5:2).[3] Although it is difficult to draw sharp lines here, it seems that all three terms refer to the same office. Paul states that he left Titus in Crete to appoint "elders" in every town; then he says that an "overseer" must be above reproach (Tit 1:5–7).[4] In Acts 20:28, Paul tells the "elders" (v. 17) of the church in Ephesus, “Pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to shepherd the church of God, which he obtained with his own blood.” Peter also says that the "elders’" job is to “shepherd the flock of God” (1 Pet 5:1–2). In light of this, the terms pastor, elder, and overseer should be regarded as all referring to the same office.

Biblical Qualifications for Eldership

There are few things more harmful to any organization than unqualified leadership. If leaders do not measure up, everyone suffers (e.g., Ezekiel 34). Leadership, therefore, should not be regarded as a right, but as a privilege and a stewardship. Because of its importance, the church should not be regarded as an institution in which everyone gets his or her turn to lead. Only those who meet the qualifications for elders should be appointed to the office. Those who do not should be content with serving in the ministry to which God has called them (1 Cor 12:14–20), understanding that being an elder does not make one a super-Christian (2 Pet 1:1), and that leadership can sometimes be a heavy burden.[5] Our roles are simply different.

A major reason we should take special care in appointing elders is that they must be trusted to make wise, godly decisions in subjective matters on which Scripture is not explicit. Should individuals divorced for unbiblical reasons prior to conversion be permitted to marry after conversion? Are the only legitimate grounds for divorce adultery and abandonment by an unbeliever? What sins are appropriate for church discipline, especially when disfellowship is on the table, and at what point has a satisfactory level of repentance been reached? How will the church implement its vision to accomplish its mission? How should the church address cultural sin and hot-button issues (e.g., transgenderism, gun control)? What is the appropriate balance between sensitivity to "seekers" and the edification of believers? Which people within the congregation should be developed to serve as future elders? In each of these areas (and many more), discretion must be used, not only in the interpretation of Scripture, but also in its wise application. The church needs men whom it can trust to navigate these issues in a way that brings glory to God, fosters the health of his church, and maximizes the spread of the gospel.

The two main lists of qualifications for elders in the New Testament are found in 1 Timothy 3:1–7 and Titus 1:6–9. While these are not the only relevant passages, they are essential, and three initial observations are helpful.

First, like many of the other New Testament lists,[6] these are not exhaustive. This can be seen from the simple observation that the lists are not identical.[7] Thus, churches are free to cautiously exercise discretion in requiring (or not requiring) other qualifications not mentioned in these lists, if such qualifications are deemed appropriate for its ministries.[8] Additional qualifications may also be implied by the ones that are explicitly mentioned.

Second, these lists focus on character and proven trustworthiness (although not exclusively). Disciplined men of upstanding, godly morals can be trained to increase their abilities; but men with abilities who lack character cannot be trusted to use their skills and knowledge for the good of the church. The traits given in these passages should be demonstrable over time (which is one implication of the warning against appointing new believers in 1 Tim 3:6). As practical character attributes, they will be present (or absent) in individuals on a sliding scale, and currently-serving elders must exercise discretion in determining to what extent a prospective elder meets these qualifications.

Third, all Christians should aspire to these qualifications; they are not exclusive to leadership. This is even the case with rarer examples, such as ability to teach. A man qualified for eldership is simply an exemplary Christian.

 Let’s consider the qualifications for eldership as laid out in 1 Timothy 3:1–7 and Titus 1:6–9. For convenience, the requirements from each passage are laid out below:[9]
 

1 Timothy 3:1–7	Titus 1:6–9
Above reproach	Above reproach
One-woman man	One-woman man
Sober-minded
Self-controlled	Self-controlled
Respectable
	Not quick-tempered
Hospitable	Hospitable
Able to teach	Holds firm to the trustworthy word as taught, so that he may be able to give instruction in sound doctrine and rebuke those who contradict it
Not a drunkard	Not a drunkard
Not violent but gentle	Not violent
Not quarrelsome
	A lover of good
Not a lover of money	Not greedy for gain
Must manage his own household well with all dignity, keeping his children submissive	His children are believers and not open to charges of debauchery or insubordination
	Upright
Not a recent convert
	Holy
Well thought of by outsiders
	Disciplined

 
 
 Above Reproach

This is first in both lists, probably because it encompasses all the other qualities and is given definition by them. Being above reproach does not mean perfection, but it does mean that the individual under consideration is of adequate knowledge and character to stand as a representative leader of Christ’s church. His character, behavior, and reputation must not drag the name of Jesus through the mud.

Being above reproach also involves exemplary character in areas that are not explicitly sinful. A good example of this from our culture would be a man living with a woman to whom he is not married (even if he is engaged or in a serious relationship). While it is certainly (allegedly!) possible to do this while not engaging in inappropriate premarital sexual behavior, such an individual, even if strong in faith, would be compromised in his ability to provide moral guidance to weaker couples lacking the extraordinary restraint to remain abstinent while living in close quarters. In an effort to justify unwise decisions, people commonly look to the examples set by their leaders. Standards for what is acceptable in a church community begin with its overseers.

 A One-Woman Man

This qualification appears second in both lists. Paul’s meaning, however, is somewhat ambiguous. Literally, the text says that an overseer must be a “one-woman man” (Gk. mias gūnaikos andra). Traditional English translations have disagreed over the meaning of this expression. The KJV, NKJV, and ESV all say “husband of one wife,” which seems to exclude men who have been divorced and remarried, while the NIV and the NLT simply have “faithful to his wife,” which takes the emphasis off marital history.[10] For several reasons, the latter interpretation seems to make better sense. First, had Paul intended to exclude divorced and remarried individuals, he had vocabulary available to him to do so unambiguously. Why would he have used an expression that never indicates divorce (or lack thereof)?[11] Second, if “one-woman man” means “only ever married to one woman,” this would also apply to those who have remarried after the death of a spouse, which seems unnecessarily restrictive.[12] A third argument as to why Paul does not refer here to divorce is that Scripture gives circumstances under which a person may, in good conscience, remarry after a divorce (Matt 19:9; 1 Cor 7:15).[13] This final reason is weaker than the first two, because Jesus clearly expresses God’s preference for marriage as a lifelong, enduring covenant (Matt 19:3–9), and Paul could be setting forth the elder as an example to the flock, who does not merely abide by what is technically permitted, but who pleases the Lord in all things, including how he handles (and has handled) marital hardship. However, given the strength of the first two arguments, it is best to see this as a reference to marital fidelity.

On the other hand, while a divorced and remarried man may not be excluded from eldership on the grounds of this requirement, a divorce certainly raises concerns with respect to 1 Timothy 3:4, that “he must manage his own household well.” Furthermore, a man who has broken his marriage covenant for unbiblical reasons may be excluded for his disregard of the Word of God in the most important human relationship in his life, if this factored into the reasons for his divorce. Therefore, if a divorced man is being considered for eldership, the details and circumstances of his divorce must be taken into account on a case-by-case basis.

It is also sometimes claimed that "one-woman man" requires that an elder be married. By the same logic, 1 Timothy 3:4 would require an elder to have multiple children living under his roof (note the plural). However, it is unlikely that Paul would have upheld a requirement for eldership that neither he nor Jesus himself would have been able to meet (1 Cor 7:7–8). Indeed, in 1 Corinthians 7, Paul encourages Christians to remain single, noting that this allows for greater devotion to the Lord (vv. 32–35).

Sober-minded

This includes, but is not limited to, what we consider today under the concept of sobriety (i.e., abstinence from intoxication).[14] It means that the prospective elder has shown himself to be clearheaded and balanced in judgment.

Self-controlled

Found both in 1 Timothy 3:2 and Titus 1:8, a “self-controlled” man is able to control his appetites and to say no to base impulses.

Respectable

The only other occurrence of this word in the New Testament is a chapter earlier than its mention here in 1 Timothy 3, where it is used to describe the “respectable apparel” worn by godly women. In classical Greek and the inscriptions it means “well-behaved” and “virtuous.”[15] It is difficult to distinguish this characteristic from the previous two.[16] If we accept “respectable” as the nuance, it means that people respect this man enough to listen to and follow him. He is the kind of man people want to have as their leader.

Not Quick-Tempered

See “not violent” below.

Hospitable

The word philoxenos, used in both 1 Timothy 3:2 and Titus 1:8, is a compound of two Greek words that may be familiar to English readers: philos and xenos—a “lover of the stranger.” This insight should not be pushed too hard, since meaning is not necessarily determined by a word’s components, and is certainly not to be limited by them (as if the only kind of love denoted by philoxenos is towards whomever we deem a “stranger”).[17] Nevertheless, this is a man who loves others, and makes time for them. Does the man being considered for eldership demonstrate a willingness to wisely sacrifice things of lesser importance in order to cultivate close relationships with others, and does he do so without grumbling (1 Pet 4:9)?

Able to Teach

The next requirement for an overseer found in 1 Timothy 3 is that he is didaktikos, “able to teach,” or even better, “skillful in teaching.”[18] Paul elaborates on this quality in Tit 1:9, where he says that an elder “must hold firm to the trustworthy word as taught, so that he may be able to give instruction in sound doctrine and also to rebuke those who contradict it.” This mandates that an overseer not only has upstanding moral quality, but also a good knowledge of Scripture and theology, that he is able to apply these things practically,[19] and that he is able to communicate them to others. Can he recognize truth from error? Can he distinguish essentials from non-essentials? Can he show charity towards others in doing so? Not only must the overseer possess knowledge of these things, he must be able to teach them to others (2 Tim 2:2).

This does not necessarily mean that an overseer must be able to preach—that is, to publicly proclaim God’s truth to groups of people. Preaching takes additional skills that are not necessarily required for being able to teach. Can this person sit across the table from someone and communicate biblical truth to them? Can he do it over coffee, lunch, or in a small group? Can he teach, not only with his words, but with the way he lives his life? In this light, we might say that hospitality and the ability to teach go hand in hand, because such a man can be trusted to seize opportunities to meet with people and to minister to them in truth and love.

             Just as important as it is that a godly man be able to teach is how he does it. Here, the additional qualities of not being quarrelsome or arrogant should be taken into account. The only other New Testament occurrence of didaktikos is in 2 Timothy 2:24–26, which teaches us that “the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his opponents with gentleness.” Paul then adds, “God may perhaps grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth, and they may come to their senses and escape from the snare of the devil, after being captured by him to do his will.” This is especially important to keep in mind when we are grappling with what it means to “rebuke” those who contradict sound doctrine (Tit 1:9). There are always more than one way to say something, and our speech needs to be “gracious, seasoned with salt, so that [we] may know how [we] ought to answer each person” (Col 4:6). Rebukes can be sharp (Tit 1:13), but must be done with “complete patience” (2 Tim 4:2). Any defense of the faith should be made with such “gentleness and respect,” and such “a good conscience,” that “those who revile [our] good behavior in Christ may be put to shame” (1 Pet 3:15–16). Thus, in opposing error, an elder must be sensitive to the end goal, not simply of having one’s views vindicated—and especially not of showing himself to be smarter—but of bringing about repentance and soundness in the faith.

Occasionally, 1 Timothy 5:17 is cited to justify a distinction between teaching and non-teaching elders, since Paul here commends “elders who rule well” to be “worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in preaching and teaching.” It is argued that this assumes that not all elders must teach—that some, for example, might have a purely administrative role. In light of the “able to teach” requirement in 1 Timothy 3:2 and the necessity of giving instruction in Titus 1:9, using this verse to justify the office of a non-teaching elder is probably an overreach. The operative word in this verse is labor (or toil). While all elders must be able to understand and communicate biblical truth, some will be more gifted and equipped to do this than others. And even those who lack facility in theological discourse may labor to correct their shortcomings. So, just as "rule well" is a judgment of decree (how well must they rule to be ruling well?), so laboring in preaching and teaching comes in degrees.[20] All elders should be able to do this to some extent.

 Not a Drunkard

Both lists note that an overseer must not be “addicted to wine”—that is, not a drunkard. This does not necessarily mean that the man must be a teetoller, but if he does occasionally imbibe alcohol, he must do so in such a way that he does not compromise other requirements for eldership, such as sober-mindedness, self-control, and respectability. Inebriation is both unwise and sinful. It is unwise because it causes us to do and permit things that we would otherwise consider wrong. It is sinful because it both causes and is caused by a lack of self-control. Second Peter 2:19 says, “For whatever overcomes a person, to that he is enslaved.”

Biblically, the consumption of alcoholic beverages is not in itself sinful. This can be inferred from stories, such as Jesus’ turning of water into wine in John 2, where godly individuals either implicitly or explicitly approve of some forms of alcohol consumption. Other examples of this would include Nehemiah and Ezra’s holy day (Neh 8:9–10), Psalm 104:14–15, Jesus’ opponents’ criticism of him (Matt 11:19), and Paul’s advice to Timothy regarding his stomach condition (1 Tim 5:23).[22]

However, while it is clear that drinking can be morally permissible, there are many circumstances under which it can be unwise at best, and sinful at worst. “Whoever is led astray by it is not wise” (Prov 20:1). It is a cause of woe, sorrow, strife, complaining, wounds without cause, and “redness of eyes” (Prov 23:29). Isaiah 5:22 pronounces, “Woe to those who are heroes at drinking wine, and valiant men in mixing strong drink.” In Ephesians 5:18, the Lord, through Paul, commands us, “Do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit."[23]

For the Christian elder, issues are even more complicated with alcohol consumption because he stands as a representative of Christ’s church and must be an example to those who observe his life. He must be able to minister to alcoholics, other Christians with weak consciences who believe any level of consumption is wrong, and unbelievers who think that Christians who consume alcohol are acting hypocritically.[24]

For these reasons, if overseers exercise their freedom in Christ to partake in alcohol, it should be done with caution and in moderation. Some will see fit to abstain entirely.[25]

It should go without saying that this requirement applies to other intoxicants as well. But the differences between them and alcohol should not go overlooked. Unlike alcohol, recreational drugs present no gray area between sobriety and intoxication, even though levels of intoxication vary. “Medicinal” properties notwithstanding, their recreational use exists solely for the purpose of getting high. In addition, the use of these substances is usually illegal, and their abuse always is. Therefore, complete abstinence should be the standard, even in private.

 Not Violent but Gentle; Not Quarrelsome

“Not violent” is in both passages, with 1 Timothy 3:3 giving its rough opposite for contrast: “but gentle.” In Timothy, “not quarrelsome” or “peaceable” is added. These are all ways of describing how a man acts in the presence of conflict. Does he love both his friends and his enemies, and everyone in between? Within the church, an overseer who lacks these qualities will exacerbate division and will turn constructive dialogue into battles. Even worse, because elders set the standard for others, this will likely contribute to a culture of controversy and bullying others into submission. In determining a prospective overseer’s fitness for the office, it would be wise to observe his manner in the midst of controversy and disagreement, and even how he interacts with others on social media.

A Lover of Good

This quality, found only in the New Testament in Titus 1:8, indicates a man whose thoughts are not drawn to evil, and who is not amused by it. Does he have a fondness for what is evil, even though he technically abstains from it? Or does he truly love what is good? If a man is a lover of good, he will not need to be constantly coerced and prodded to pursue the things of God. He will pursue them because he loves them.

Not a Lover of Money/Not Greedy for Gain

Put differently in each passage, these mean roughly the same thing. An elder should exemplify the wisdom of Proverbs 30:7–9:

Two things I ask of you; deny them not to me before I die: Remove far from me falsehood and lying; give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is needful for me, lest I be full and deny you and say, “Who is the LORD?” or lest I be poor and steal and profane the name of my God.

First Peter 5:1–3 also warns against “shameful gain” (Gk. aischrokedrōs)[26] as an incentive for elders. Interestingly, Titus 1:11 cites the same thing (aischros kedros) as the motivation of the false teachers whose influence elders are supposed to counter.

One does not have to have money to be ruled by it. “The deceitfulness of riches,” which chokes the seeds of the kingdom sown in our hearts (Matt 13:22; Mark 4:19), can afflict both the poor and the wealthy. Serving God and serving money are presented by Jesus as mutually exclusive (Matt 6:24; Luke 16:13). This is true, whether one’s pursuit of it is successful or not. It is “those who desire to be rich [who] fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction.” Accordingly, the “man of God [must] flee these things” (1 Tim 6:9, 11). Regardless of class, we all need to heed Christ’s warning, that “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God” (Matt 19:24; Mark 10:25; Luke 18:25). Biblical texts warning about a love for money and a preoccupation with material prosperity abound (e.g., Prov 13:7; Luke 6:20; 12:16–21; Heb 13:5; James 2:1–7; 5:1–6). The man of God finds his strength in the Lord, and is able to be content in both poverty and plenty (Phil 4:9–11).

While churches have a responsibility to provide materially for those who labor over souls, sometimes, for the sake of the gospel, the overseer must labor in situations that bring about financial hardship (1 Cor 9:3–26). Being free from the love of money guards against favoritism towards the rich and enables overseers to make right decisions, even if those decisions are not financially advantageous. Church elders should display modest lifestyles in order not to bring disrepute on the body of Christ, especially in our culture, where so many look with suspicion on pastors and other Christian leaders who use other people’s generosity towards the kingdom to line their own pockets.

 He Must Manage His Own Household Well

Both passages draw attention to the way the prospective elder shepherds the “little flock” of his family. In 1 Timothy 3:4–5, he must do it “with all dignity, keeping his children submissive.” Titus 1:6 adds that “his children are [to be] believers and not open to the charge of debauchery or insubordination.” The reason for this requirement, as is made clear in 1 Timothy, is that a man’s ability to spiritually lead his family is a good indicator of whether he will be able to lead God’s household.[27] “One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much” (Luke 16:10).

             “Submission” (hūpotagē) is a standard disposition of children towards their parents in the letters of Paul, and is elsewhere delineated as obedience (Eph 6:1–3; Col 3:20). The relationship is to be mutually one of dignity and respect.[28]

Care must be taken to determine whether or not a man has met this requirement. First, these verses do not apply to adult children who are no longer under their fathers’ authority. But even here, it is difficult to know to what extent an adult child walking far from the Lord owes his lack of faith to faults in his upbringing. Second, kids will be kids, although this should never be used as an excuse for a man who is failing in his duties towards his family. What it does mean is that a determination should be made based on general observation, rather than isolated incidents. The question should not be whether his children ever step out of line, but how it is dealt with when they do, realizing that a father must walk a line between strictness and fomenting resentment. Third, we must be careful about our assumptions regarding what constitutes submissiveness, dignity, and the general requirement to lead one’s household “well.” These terms can be easily twisted to justify unreasonable standards of strictness and behavior that have more to do with personal and cultural preference than they do with truly raising children in the knowledge, love, and fear of the Lord.

Upright

Titus 1:8 adds that an elder must be “upright” (dikaios). Although this term, which is usually translated “righteous,” is used technically in Paul’s writings of the Christian’s legal standing before God and her membership in the covenant community, here it is clearly ethical, indicating that the man in question abides by God’s law (a practical result of his salvation).

Not a Recent Convert

First Timothy 3:6 adds that an overseer must have a certain level of spiritual maturity demonstrated over time. Literally, he must not be “newly planted” (neophūtos). The possible consequence that Paul has in mind is not even what this may do to the church, but what it might do to the man. Namely, “he may become puffed up with conceit and fall into the condemnation of the devil.” Presumably, this may spring from flattery over being regarded as so mature so early on in his walk, or perhaps by not learning first what it means to serve. Before a man can be entrusted with a role where he is noticed, he must demonstrate faithfulness where he is not.

Holy

This is a character trait that signifies devoutness, godliness, and piety, and is not the typical word that is translated “holy” or “sanctified” (although this is implied).[29]

 Well Thought of by Outsiders

If we are to accomplish our mission, we cannot afford to be oblivious of what those outside the church think of us. Therefore, 1 Timothy 3:7 says that an overseer “must be well thought of by outsiders.” Although we live by different standards and values than the world, and although we live for an audience of one, seeking to please the Lord in all things, our mission is to the world, and positive engagement with it is critical. For this reason, Paul regards separation from the world as unacceptable (1 Cor 5:9–10), and shows concern for what unbelievers think, both of our ethical comportment (Rom 2:24; 1 Thess 4:12) and of the way we conduct ourselves even within church gatherings (1 Cor 14:23–25). Such considerations also come into play with regard to the behavior of widows (1 Tim 5:14), slaves (6:1), and young women (Tit 2:5). This is a matter of wisdom (Col 4:5–6), and is a big component of the apologetic task laid out in 1 Peter 3:15–16 (also 2:15). The mature believer is able to adjust his conduct and preferences in such a way so as to maximize his effectiveness in presenting the gospel, regardless of his company (1 Cor 9:21–22, 32–33). This is why failure in this respect is viewed as a “snare of the devil” (1 Tim 3:7).

Disciplined

The final requirement from these two lists is that an elder be disciplined (Tit 1:8). Godliness does not happen automatically. Passivity and laziness lead to spiritual drift, not maturity. Therefore, the cultivation of godly habits must be a top priority. Elsewhere, Paul describes this as “pummeling [his] body to make it a slave,” comparing himself to a runner in a race (1 Cor 9:24–27).

Final Considerations

In general, church leaders are nothing more than faithful Christians who have been appointed to lead. Therefore, the entire Bible is a manual for what this looks like. But there are two other observations that are directly germane to leadership outside of the lists in 1 Timothy and Titus that also deserve mention.

The first is the example of Christ as a servant leader. Jesus tells us that “the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matt 20:28; Mark 10:45; also Rom 15:3). Using himself as an example, he taught us that the greatest among us is the servant, “not the one who reclines at table” (Luke 22:24–27). At the Last Supper, he gave a vivid example for us when he washed the feet of all twelve disciples, Judas included. In his own words:

 If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done for you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than him who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them (John 13:14–17).

In the church, leaders do not to be served by others, but to be the ones who serve. We should seek overseers among those who have towels around their wastes and basins in their hands.

             The other relevant set of qualifications comes to us in 1 Peter 5:1–3, where Peter, himself an elder, exhorts his fellow elders in how they are to shepherd the flock. Once again, emphasis is placed, not so much on the job description itself, but on how and why it is carried out. The effective elder does not serve “under compulsion.” He doesn’t do it simply because no one else will, or merely because it is his job. Instead, he does it “willingly.” A good elder, then, will tend to be a man who already serves the church with joy, even when he has not yet been appointed to a particular office. He does it out of love, because he wants to do it, and because the Lord has laid a burden on his heart. As mentioned earlier in a brief discussion of this text, he also does not serve for “shameful gain,” which includes, but is not limited to, financial gain. Shameful gain also includes a desire for status, or other ulterior motivations, such as trying to impress others. He is not “domineering,” meaning that he doesn’t lord his power over others, simply “pulling rank” because he is in a place of authority. Jesus taught us that, although this is the manner of Gentile rulers, “it shall not be so among [us]” (Matt 20:25). Rather, elders are to be examples of love and humility.

             We recognize that nobody is perfect, and none of us exemplifies these qualities flawlessly. But these are the standards for leaders set forth in the New Testament, and for good reason. A healthy church engaged in vigorous discipleship will be used by God to produce men such as these, who will, in turn, pass on these qualities to others. God is, after all, very good at making leaders out of imperfect vessels, as he promised to do when he named Peter, of all men, as the rock upon which he would build his church. “And the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matt 16:18).

[1] In sum, multiple elders are mentioned as serving in Jerusalem, Pisidian Antioch, Lystra, Iconium, Derbe, Ephesus, Philippi, the cities of Crete, Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia. These are just the cities that are named in the New Testament. It can be reasonably assumed that the other churches were also led by elders.

[2] In older translations, this office is called “bishop.” The idea of a bishop as the head of a district of churches is present in early church history, but not in Scripture. It is generally acknowledged that this developed sometime in the second century. However, it is clear that some non-apostles had a measure of authority over multiple congregations (e.g., the Jerusalem council’s elders, as well as Timothy and Titus). Jesus is called an overseer in 1 Pet 2:25.

[3] To this we might add 1 Corinthians 9:7, although there the reference seems to be ministry in general rather than a specific leadership office. Shepherd leaders may be in view in Hebrews 13:17, which says that leaders “keep watch over your souls,” although this word, agrūpneō, is different than the shepherds’ “keeping watch” (Gk. phūlassō) in Luke 2:8. There are additional references to false shepherds (John 10; Jude 12). Peter’s apostolic ministry is spoken of by Jesus in this way in his famous instruction in John 21:15: “Tend my sheep.” Of course, Jesus is the chief shepherd (Matt 2:6; 26:31; Mark 14:27; John 10:1–18; Heb 13:20; 1 Pet 2:25; 5:4; Rev 2:27; 7:17; 12:5; 19:15).

[4] Paul distinguishes overseers and deacons in 1 Timothy 3:1 and 8, further suggesting that the term is synonymous with “elder,” not “deacon.”

[5] The classic example of this is Adam, who is called to answer for both his and his wife’s sin in Genesis 3:9. Likewise, recall James’ caution against aspiring to be teachers (Jas 3:1; see also Rom 2:17–24).

[6] Other examples would include the lists of spiritual gifts in Romans 12:6–8 and 1 Corinthians 12:4–11 and 27–31, as well as the many “vice lists” (e.g., Rom 1:29–30; 1 Cor 6:9–10; 1 Tim 1:9–11).

[7] This has important implications for our thinking about spiritual gifts in particular, and topics covered by other lists in general.

[8] For example, submissiveness to authority.

[9] This follows the order of 1 Timothy 3, with requirements from Titus 1 rearranged to bring out correspondences, where applicable.

[10] In Paul’s cultural context, this would also have excluded men engaged in polygamy, which was not made illegal in the Roman Empire until the Lex Antoniana de Civitate in 212 AD and even later for the Jews in AD 939 under Theodosius. That this phrase should be restricted exclusively to polygamy is ruled out by the parallel expression, “one-man woman” (Gk. henos andros gūnē) in 1 Timothy 5:9. Polyandry was not practiced in the Greco-Roman world. See George W. Knight III, The Pastoral Epistles (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1992), 158.

[11] For example, he could have written mē apolelūmenos (lit., “not divorced). This participle’s root, apolūō, is the common verb to denote divorce in the New Testament (Matt 1:19; 5:31–32; 19:3, 7, 8, 9; Mark 10:2, 4, 11, 12; Luke 16:8). Also available is the verb aphiēmi, which Paul uses in 1 Corinthians 7:11–13. The Septuagint (LXX) also uses the verbs ekballō (“to cast out;” Lev 21:7, 14; 22:13; 30:9; Eze 44:22) and exapostellō (Deut 22:19, 29; 24:1; Jer 3:1; Mal 2:16), from which is derived the expression “certificate of divorce” (to biblion toū apostasioū; Deut 24:1, 3; Isa 50:1; Jer 3:8).

[12] Both 1 Corinthians 7:39 and Romans 7:1–3 give additional weight to this point.

[13] These two passages, providing exceptions for remarriage in the events of adultery and abandonment by an unbelieving spouse, respectfully, are the only explicit provisions for this in the New Testament. However, there may be other circumstances under which this is also acceptable, such as if the divorce occurred before the person became a “new creation” in Christ (2 Cor 5:17), or in cases of serious abuse or neglect of marital vows. See Wayne Grudem, What the Bible Says about Divorce and Remarriage (Wheaton: Crossway, 2021).

[14] Notwithstanding the tendency towards repetition in ethical lists, if this is all that is implied, it would seem redundant for verse 3 to add “not a drunkard.”

[15] Knight, 159.

[16] I. Howard Marshall, The Pastoral Epistles (ICC; New York: T & T Clark, 1999), 478.

[17] This is the first of Carson’s “Word-Study Fallacies.” He calls it “the root fallacy,” which occurs when “meaning is determined by etymology; that is, by the root or roots of a word.” See D. A. Carson, Exegetical Fallacies (2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996), 27–32.

[18] BDAG, 240.

[19] Note how the Bible constantly draws out the practical implications of the truths it gives us.

[20] Knight (232) arrives at the same conclusion via a different argument. He notes an article by T. C. Skeat (“‘Especially the Parchments’: A Note on 2 Timothy IV.13,” JTS 30 [1979]: 173–77), where the author attempts to demonstrate from the New Testament and the parchment evidence that the adjective translated “especially” here and in other texts (Gk. malista) can often mean “that is,” yielding a meaning here that “elders who rule well . . . that is, those who labor in preaching and teaching.” Skeat’s article has also proven helpful to advocates of definite atonement (Knight included), seeking to deal with 1 Tim 4:10, which says that God “is the Savior of all people, especially (malista) of those who believe.” His article has received further support by R. A. Campbell, “KAI MALISTA OIKEIWN—A New Look at 1 Timothy 5:8,” NTS 41 (1995): 157–60. However, Skeat’s article has been widely criticized by Vern Poythress, who demonstrates that in none of the examples Skeat cites is the meaning “especially” ruled out, and some of his analysis is simply incorrect (“The Meaning of μάλιστα in 2 Timothy 4:13 and Related Verses,” JTS 53 (2002): 523–32). See also Thomas R. Schreiner, “‘Problematic Texts’ for Definite Atonement in the Pastoral and General Epistles,” in From Heaven He Came and Sought Her: Definite Atonement in Historical, Biblical, Theological, and Pastoral Perspective (ed. David Gibson and Jonathan Gibson; Wheaton: Crossway, 2013), 380–82.

This verse does not contradict our earlier observation, that able to teach does not imply preaching ability. Literally, the clause reads, “especially those who labor in word (Gk. logos) and teaching.” The KJV rightly reads “labour in word and doctrine.” The NET reads, “especially those who work hard in speaking and teaching.”

[21] See also Ecclesiastes 9:7; Isaiah 25:6; 55:1; Amos 9:14; Matthew 15:11; and Romans 14:14. Other passages, such as Joseph and his brothers drinking to the point that they were “merry with wine” (Gen 43:34) should be used cautiously, since they do not seem to offer any judgment on rightness or wrongness.

[22] See also Genesis 9:21; 1 Samuel 1:14–15; 2 Samuel 13:28; Psalm 21:17; 75:8.

[23] Such unbelievers will likely not have a grasp of the Bible’s nuanced position on alcohol use, and therefore may wrongly think that Christians consider it to be forbidden without qualification.

[24] I offer the following guidelines for Christians wishing to consume alcohol:
1. If I have a problem with alcohol abuse, I should abstain.
2. If I am with someone who has a problem with alcohol abuse, I should abstain.
3. If I am with someone who thinks alcohol consumption is wrong, I should abstain.
4. If I think alcohol consumption is wrong, I should abstain.
5. If I am with someone who thinks I think alcohol consumption is wrong, I should abstain.
6. If I partake, it should only be done in moderation and not to the point of intoxication.
7. If I partake, it should only be done in accordance with the law.
8. If I partake, I should not advertise it.
9. Alcohol should not be consumed at official church gatherings.

[25] Technically, this term is an adverb (“greedily”).

[26] We noted earlier, under “one-woman man,” that this requirement does not imply that a man must have children in order to serve as an elder, only how things ought to be if he has children.

[27] Knight, 161–62.

[38] “Holy” is a puzzling translation choice for hosios in Titus 1:8 (the NLT rightly has “devout”). Usually, this English word is reserved for rendering hagios, which denotes the very specific ritual/cultic idea of holiness (i.e., God-likeness, God’s "God-ness," belonging exclusively to God). In the Septuagint, hosios occurs 41 times. In none of these is it used to translate the Hebrew word for "holy" (qōdeš). Most commonly, it translates ḥāsîd (“faithful, godly,” 27x). Other words it is used for are tāmîm (“faultless,” Prov 2:21; Amos 5:10) and its close cognate tōm (Prov 10:29; 29:10), nadîb (“noble,” Prov 17:26), zak (“clear, pure,” Prov 20:11), and ṭāhôr (“pure,” Prov 22:11). Nevertheless, the majority of modern English translations more or less consistently translate this word as “holy” in all of its eight NT occurrences (Acts 2:27; 13:34, 35; 1 Tim 2:8; Tit 1:8; Heb 7:26; Rev 15:4; 16:5).

by Doug Becker

Why Blog on This?

One of the things our church is known for is preaching through books of the Bible, chapter by chapter, verse by verse. Sometimes we might only do parts of books, and sometimes we might cover a lot of text in one week, but we are thankful that the Lord has enabled us to pattern our teaching after the way he has laid things out for us in his Word. And so, in those rare instances where we skip something in the text, a few eyebrows usually get raised. This is especially true when a passage that gets short shrift is a juicy one that people have a lot of questions about.

Enter Genesis 6:1–4, the juiciest of the juicy. Pastor Ryan didn’t skip this one. But he didn’t dwell on it either, and he didn’t base any of his main points off of it. He gave his view and moved on, directing anyone interested to the post you’re reading right now (maybe that’s why you’re here!).

Why would I introduce this passage this way? Why not just get on with the main course? Well, sadly, some people are very confident that they know exactly what this passage means, and are vocal about what a scandal it is that we don’t hear this one preached more from the pulpit. Harumph! Instead, the implication is made that yellow-bellied preachers, afraid of weird spiritual stuff, would rather sweep uncomfortable texts like this into the messy closet alongside the saints who rose from the dead after Jesus’ death and the archangel Michael duking it out with the Prince of Persia. Our interpretive gurus will always be there, channeling Jack Nicholson in his prime, reminding us, “You can’t handle the truth!”

But what if the truth is something less comforting than a tidy interpretation with no loose ends? What if there is no line of reasoning that completely clobbers all others, that everyone “who has actually studied” this stuff agrees on, that we simply miss because we aren’t “scholarly enough”? What if the experts are actually all over the place on what this passage means, with the only real “consensus” being that we all need to remain humble because no one can be certain about any of the (at least) ten conundrums found in these four measly verses—a passage that one very well-respected commentator calls “unquestionably … the most demanding passage in Genesis for the interpreter.”¹  At the risk of sounding like a broken record, sometimes “I’m not sure” is the truest answer that can be given. And I think that applies here. There is one Master of these words, and he doesn’t get a paycheck from Emergence.

What’s All the Fuss About?

Here it is, in all it’s glory:

¹ When man began to multiply on the face of the land and daughters were born to them, ² the sons of God saw that the daughters of man were attractive. And they took as their wives any they chose. ³ Then the LORD said, “My Spirit shall not abide in man forever, for he is flesh: his days shall be 120 years.” ⁴ The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of man and they bore children to them. These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown.

Hang on folks. We’re in for a bumpy ride! I’ll try to make it as smooth as possible, but I’m also pretty sure I’ll fail at that. In the end, I will tell you where I land and why. If you’re into brevity, go ahead and skip to end for a summary. Along the way, I hope to give a fair evaluation of the various views I have encountered over the years, including my own.

Who Are the Sons of God?

There’s no way to take a stab at the meaning of this passage without determining who is being referred to as the “sons of God.” There are essentially three options. The nice part is that once we start to tease these out, other important points of interpretation start to come to light.

The first is that these are spiritual beings. Our typical word for this is “angel,” based on Hebrew and Greek terms that both mean “messenger.” Although God rules over this world and decrees all that comes to pass, he delegates his authority to morally responsible individuals, which includes human beings (e.g., Matthew 28:16–20), but also includes spirits (e.g., 1 Kings 22:20–22) who are able to take the form of human beings (e.g., Genesis 18–19). Because these are all moral agents, endowed with a degree of freedom, some of them are evil, the foremost example of which is Satan, or as Job 1–2 knows him, “the accuser” or perhaps “the adversary.”²

Interestingly, in Job, this particular spiritual being is introduced as belonging to, or at least being associated with, an entourage called “the sons of God” (Job 1:6; 2:1), which is the only other place in the Old Testament that we find the exact Hebrew expression that is used here in Genesis 6 (b^enê hăʾĕlōhîm). Almost identical expressions occur in Job 38:7 (b^enê ʾĕlōhîm), a Dead Sea Scroll of Deuteronomy 32:8 (b^enê ʾêl),³  Psalms 29:1 and 89:6 (b^enê ʾêlîm), and the Aramaic of Daniel 3:25 (bar ʾĕlāhîn).⁴  All these can be plausibly understood as spiritual beings or angels, although in almost all of them, other interpretations are offered, such as stars (the heavenly host) or human rulers.

It's clear that in our passage these beings are doing something bad, so the parallel with the “sons of God” in Job is compelling. This does not mean that all the “sons of God” are wicked, but rather than the term refers to spiritual beings, some of whom do evil.

This impressive list of parallels (technically, most are near parallels) gives a strong first impression for understanding the “sons of god” as something akin to fallen angels. Once this is in place, other details of this interpretation come into focus. In contrast to the sons of God, the “daughters of man” would be human women. The sin of the sons of God would be that they transgressed the God-ordained boundaries between the “spiritual” and “natural” realms and took human wives for themselves. Proponents of this view also tend to view the Nephilim of verse 4 as the offspring of this ungodly union.⁵  The meaning of the passage, then, would be something of a rebuke against notion found elsewhere in the ancient Near East that there were semi-divine heroes who lived in the distant past who supposedly owed their existence to the union of gods and men.⁶  On this interpretation, the Bible is denigrating such myths, showing instead that such individuals, no matter how physically impressive, were nothing more than the product of debauched unnatural relationships. Notably, Michael Heiser takes this a step further by arguing that this text is included in Genesis to show that the “messianic seed” (cf. Gen 3:15) is the product of no deity but the one true God.⁷

This interpretation enjoys the status of being the most ancient (minus the insights gleaned from more recent studies of ancient Near Eastern myths), embraced by both early Jewish⁸  Christian⁹  sources, although it should be noted that it was abandoned by the mid-second century AD in Jewish sources and gradually through the second to fifth centuries in Christian ones. Often cited is a speculative Jewish work called 1 Enoch (not really written by Enoch), which doesn’t miss the opportunity to spend chapters giving a fanciful elaboration on this enigmatic passage. Enoch refers to the sons of God as “Watchers.”

In addition, many detect a reference to this interpretation of this event in several New Testament passages: 1 Peter 3:19–20; 2 Peter 2:4; and Jude 6–7. Without getting too into the weeds on this (as if we haven’t already), the two Petrine (i.e., Peter) passages cannot be tied to Genesis 6 beyond a reasonable doubt. Jude 6–7, on the other hand, can reasonably be taken as endorsing this interpretation: “The angels who did not stay within their own positions of authority, but left their proper dwelling, he has kept in eternal chains under gloomy darkness until the day of judgment … just as Sodom ad Gomorrah … likewise indulged in sexual immorality and pursued unnatural desire.” It is argued that this sounds like Genesis 6 filtered through the lens of 1 Enoch.¹⁰

Lest we wed ourselves too uncritically to the angelic interpretation, we now need to note some serious problems with it. The major hurdle is that it is difficult to see how this fits into the storyline of Genesis 1–11, which is concerned exclusively with the sinfulness of humanity. How does the sin of fallen angels contribute to this? This problem is amplified when we consider that (1) the judgment of 6:3, which clearly belongs to this account, is directed against “man” and (2) this account seems to be the low point against which God decides to send the flood. To put it bluntly, why is mankind being judged (at least in part) for the sins of angels?

Other problems abound. Although angels are capable of taking on corporeal form and passing as human (Genesis 18–19; Matthew 28:1–7 and parallels), Jesus seems to deny that angels “marry nor are given in marriage” (Matthew 22:30 and parallels), which is exactly what the “sons of God” do in this passage. Moreover, the references to “the sons of God” marshaled throughout the Hebrew Scriptures are not quite as convincing as at first blush, given that the only exact matches are all isolated in one book (Job). John Walton observes that this gives “significant pause for concluding that this Old Testament lexical base is sufficient to dictate exclusive meanings. This is the weak link in the armor of the ‘angels’ view.”¹¹

In my judgment, the angelic view is plausible, but no more plausible than the alternatives. Which alternatives, you ask? If I may …

Among Christians, beginning with Julius Africanus (AD 160–240) the view that supplanted the angelic interpretation is that the “sons of God” are descendants from the godly line of Seth, who began to intermarry with the “daughters of man,” understood as women from the ungodly line of Cain. This perspective gained traction in Augustine’s City of God and is well-known for its popularity among the Protestant reformers, namely Luther and Calvin. It has the advantage of being wedded tightly to the context (Genesis 4–5) and not seeming like a detour that is unlike anything that comes before or after it—a disadvantage that burdens the angelic view.

Linguistically, taking the “sons of God” as a designation for a godly line has some plausibility, since the Old Testament does not shy away from identifying the Israelites as children of God (Exodus 4:22; Deuteronomy 14:1; 32:5–6; Psalms 73:15; 80:15; Isaiah 43:6; Hosea 1:10; 11:1).¹²

But the “Sethite” view also has its problems. Notably, understanding the “daughters” as members of the ungodly line of Cain requires a shift in meaning in the word “man” between verse 1, where it refers to humanity in general, and verse 2, where, under this line of reasoning, it would refer only to those in Cain’s line. We must ask how likely it is that the author of Genesis expected his readers to detect this shift and to understand “sons of God” and “daughters of man” in this way. On the other hand, Kenneth Matthews, who embraces this view, sidesteps this problem by insisting that the daughters of man need not be understood as Cainite women, and contending that the Sethite men became corrupt simply by marrying outside their line, whether with Cainite women or not, which is often forbidden to the Israelites elsewhere in the Old Testament.¹³

Although I am attracted to this view, especially Matthews’ version of it, I have some hesitancy towards it, since it presupposes that we are to understand Cain’s line as wicked and Seth’s line as godly (and if not the former, at least the latter). Although there is no doubt that the focus on the seventh in each line are contrasted—Lamech in Cain’s line is wicked and Enoch in Seth’s line is righteous—does it follow that this moral evaluation should be extended to all individuals in each line? I’m not so sure.¹⁴  And why should “daughters of man”—literally “daughters of ʾādām—be understood as referring to wicked people? After all, “Adam,” for all his faults, is consistently associated with the line of Seth (Genesis 4:25–5:5).

Which leads us to the third view …

The sons of God are human rulers.¹⁵  Under this interpretation, which was the direction taken in Judaism after the abandonment of the angelic view,¹⁶  the sin is a bit more difficult to identify. Some have suggested polygamy, general promiscuity, or using the “right of the first night” (we’ve all seen Braveheart, or more recently The Office), but none of these is clearly spelled out in the text. In fact, the expression “to take a wife” (v. 2) is commonly used to denote normal marriage. However, the text doesn’t just say that they took wives; it says that they took “any they chose.” This additional phrase seems to connote exploitation.

Like the Sethite view, the human rulers interpretation fits well with the context. Walton, who adopts a form of this view, summarizes the “progression of offenses” in Genesis 1–11 this way: “individuals (Adam and Eve) --> family (Cain) --> society leaders (sons of God) -->  everyone (Flood).¹⁷  It is also well-known that the concept of divine sonship is applied to kings in the Old Testament (2 Samuel 7:14; Psalms 2:7; 82:6). Of course, these texts are unique in that they speak of the Davidic rulers, but they do show that the concept is not entirely foreign to the ancient Israelite mindset. The idea, then, would be that the Davidic king is the true “son of God,” whereas those mentioned in Genesis 6:1–4 are only so-called “sons of God.” In other words, they claimed this title for themselves, or perhaps their fans understood them as such.

Many examples can be cited from the ancient world that kings—including those who were believed to have reigned before the great flood—were legitimated by claiming descent from the gods (note: this is different from saying that they were themselves divine). This also makes good sense of verse 4’s closing comment: “These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown.”

It is also worth noting that in the Sumerian King List, which is a chronicle of the rulers of various Sumerian cities stretching back beyond recorded memory, the eight kings who are said to have lived before the flood are ascribed unbelievably long reigns (28,000 years, 36,000 years, 43,200 years, etc.). This shortens after the flood, but stretching into the first dynasties of Kish and Uruk rulers are still given reigns of hundreds of years.¹⁸  Is there some connection here with Genesis, where the “antedeluvians” of Genesis 5 have notoriously long lives? And when it comes to Genesis 6, is this the Bible’s way of speaking of these prehistoric so-called “hero-kings,” stripping them of their mythical characteristics, and placing their legacies within the context of the violent and unjust world that God judged with the flood?

Perhaps a good place to pump the breaks on this survey is with the wise summary given by Victor Hamilton: “Suffice it to say, it is impossible to be dogmatic about the identification of the ‘sons of God’ here. The best one can do is to consider the options. While it may not be comforting to the reader, perhaps it is best to say that the evidence is ambiguous and therefore defies clear-cut identifications and solutions.”¹⁹

His Days Shall Be 120 Years?

As the judgment for the transgression of verse 2, God declares, “My Spirit shall not abide in man forever, for he is flesh: his days shall be 120 years.” There are a variety of different ways to render the word that the English Standard Version translates “abide.” Since a perusal of the many proposals involves suggestions from other ancient languages, and since a firm decision on this does not seem to be required in order to make sense of this verse, I’m going to skip that one. Let’s look instead at the two options for what God means by limiting man’s “days” to 120 years.

The first option is that God is placing a limit on man’s lifespan. Given the extremely long lives of the individuals named in the line of Seth in chapter 5, this makes some sense. On the other hand, there are a good number of examples of people after this point in Genesis living far beyond 120 years. Noah: 950 years. Shem: 600 years. Arpachshad: 438 years. Shelah: 433 years. Eber: 464 years. Peleg: 239 years. Reu: 239 years. Serug: 230 years. Nahor: 148 years. Terah: 205 years. Yes, I did just type that out! Even though there definitely seems to be a gradual chilling out of the super-long lives, this makes it difficult to understand the 120 years of Genesis 6:3 as a shortening of the human lifespan.

The second option, therefore, is more plausible: There will be 120 years before the flood. Given that the sons of God incident is not anchored to any other chronological point in the text, this interpretation is the winner, in my opinion.

Ahhh, the Nephilim

Verse 4 adds to this already challenging passage, “The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterwards, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of man and they bore children to them.” This raises two questions: Who were the Nephilim? And how did they survive the flood?

As was mentioned earlier, commentators who take the sons of God to be spiritual beings who had relations with human women tend to infer that the Nephilim are the offspring of this ungodly union.²⁰  But this is nowhere actually stated in verse 4. In fact, this appears to be a rather tortured way to understand the wording. We have seen plenty of descendants thus far in Genesis, but nowhere do we have such a bizarre way of putting it. To illustrate, think about how odd it would be if chapter 5 read, “Seth was on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when Adam went in to Eve and she bore children to him.” It seems much more natural to take this reference to the Nephilim as an additional fact being added to this brief story that in some way furthers the dire situation already described.

The only other place in the Old Testament where we encounter the Nephilim is Numbers 13:33. This is the account of the twelve Israelites who were sent into the land of Canaan by Moses to spy out the land. When they returned, they gave an account that greatly discouraged their fellow Israelites, with the only dissenting voices being Joshua and Caleb. The verse in question is part of this negative report: “The land, through which we have gone to spy it out, is a land that devours its inhabitants, and all the people that we saw in it are of great height. And we saw the Nephilim (the sons of Anak, who come from the Nephilim), and we seemed to ourselves like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them” (vv. 32–33). It should be noted that the Bible often describes the Anakim (the “sons of Anak”) as being exceedingly tall (Deuteronomy 2:10, 21; 9:2).²¹  Some have speculated that this may have accounted for Goliath’s massive size, given that Joshua 11:22 records some Anakim that remained in his home city of Gath.²²

There is no doubt that the obscure Nephilim, Anakim, and Rephaim are linked in the Bible and are all described as physically imposing. To these, we might add the Zuzim of Genesis 14:5, and the Emim, an apparently Moabite designation for the Rephaim (Deuteronomy 2:10–11). But the exact nature of the link is never spelled out. Is it biological descent (as is often assumed, but never proven), or is it perhaps some other common characteristic, such as their skill, size, or even just their “violent reputation”?²³

What is clear is that all the elements for fanciful speculation are here: They are always mentioned in passing references, some of which contain eye-catching details that are never clearly explained. In both ancient and modern times, this has attracted interpreters who have exploited the lack of evidence as fertile ground for theories that are nowhere stated clearly in the text of Scripture. In my judgment, theological theories that depend solely on ambiguous passages for their support should be elevated only to the status of possible (at best), and those who advance them have a responsibility to make this clear. Perhaps this is a healthy word of caution for everyone who treads the ground of Genesis 6:1–4.

This description of Numbers 13:33 undoubtedly lies behind the common conception that the Nephilim are giants, which is reflected as early as the Greek translation of the term in both Genesis 6 and Numbers 13: gigantes.²⁴  Two observations are in order.

First, although some descriptions of these allusive groups describe them as large, there are no direct descriptions of how large they were. Even today, particular ethnic groups have physical stature that differ on average from others (ever heard of the Icelandic strongmen, or of Ryan Franey?). The only thing approaching specifics is the enormous size of Goliath (1 Samuel 17:4), but nowhere is he directly associated with any of these groups, aside from the note that hundreds of years earlier there were Anakim left in Gath (Joshua 11:22). The other is the dimensions of the bed belonging to Og king of Bashan (nine cubits by four cubits = approximately 13.5’ x 6’), who is said to be “of the remnant of the Rephaim” (Deuteronomy 3:11). No doubt, he was a big dude. But it seems unwise to infer the size of the person based on the size of their bed. After all, should we assume that a single woman sleeping by herself on a queen size bed is six feet wide? (No judgment here.) The point is that even if we grant “giant” as an appropriate descriptor for these biblical groups, that doesn’t tell us much, especially given our lack of data for the average height of an ancient Israelite, the obvious point of reference.

Second—I mentioned this in passing earlier but it bears repeating—it is not at all clear that the members within these groups, or the groups themselves, are to be classified by biological descent. The notion that there is some kind of supernatural ungodly lineage passed on among these groups is a theory lacking direct evidence, based on what the Bible does not say rather than what it does.²⁵  In fact, if the term “Nephilim” is a descriptor of physical, moral, or some other characteristic not involving biological descent, this would solve the problem of why they are the only group mentioned in Scripture other than Noah’s family to survive the flood (again, Numbers 13:33). The answer would be that they didn’t survive it (indeed, we are told that “all flesh” was wiped out), but that other individuals who were also Nephilim lived in Canaan in Joshua’s day.

Summary

Looking back on all this, hopefully it will be evident why Genesis 6:1–4 is sometimes skipped or skimmed over by preachers. It isn’t always that they have weak theology or are somehow too chicken to feed their flocks with difficult texts. After all, the flood is what comes next! The issue is that this passage is a nest of interpretive conundrums that impact the meaning in wildly divergent directions. Add to this a vocal community of Bible teachers who are very certain about things on which certainty alludes us, and there’s no wonder why a preacher would say a few sentences and then point those with further interest to books, blogs, podcasts, or videos.

No one can say that they know for certain what this text means. If they claim otherwise, they are simply kidding themselves. With this in mind, I cautiously offer the following as a summary of my views:

The passage as a whole is a critique of the well-attested ancient Near Eastern belief in kings from the prehistoric, often mythic, past who derived their legitimacy by claiming descent from the gods. Rather than reminiscent of a golden age, the Bible exhibits them as representative of the moral decline of humanity. Their legacy is that they forced women—“any they chose”—to be their wives, probably accumulating impressive harems along the way. (Are there echoes of this in the stories of Pharaoh and Abimelek’s interactions with Abraham and Isaac?) To them were born even more kings after the likeness of their fathers, whom humanity foolishly regards as “mighty men of old, the men of renown.” Their time was also characterized by the presence of savage men of war (the Nephilim), who were of the same kind that intimidated the Israelites into not trusting the Lord to give them the land of Canaan.

What’s your interpretation?

¹ Kenneth A. Matthews, Genesis 1–11:26 (NAC 1A; NAC; Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1996), 320.

² That is the meaning of his name. In Hebrew, it is haśśāṭān: ha = “the,” śāṭān = “accuser.” In the Old Testament, this being also appears in 1 Chronicles 21:1 and Zechariah 3:1–2.

³ The fragment is known as 4QDeut^q. The Masoretic text of this verse has “sons of Israel” (b^enê yiśrāʾēl). But the Septuagint provides strong support for the DSS reading, rendering the expression with “angels of God” (Gk. angelōn theoū).

⁴ Christian interpreters commonly see in this “one like a son of the gods” a reference to the preincarnate Christ.

⁵ See Michael S. Heiser, The Unseen Realm: Recovering the Supernatural Worldview of the Bible (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2015), 92–109; Nahum M. Sarna, Genesis (JPSTC; Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1989), 45–46; Gordon J. Wenham, Genesis 1–15 (WBC 1; Waco: Word, 1987), 142–43, although he seems less than enthusiastic about this connection, simply punting to it as the supposed view of “most modern commentators.”

⁶ The famous mythical hero Gilgamesh would be an example, as would the mythical apkallus who were said to have lived before the flood.

⁷ Heiser, 109.

⁸ Jubilees 5:1; Philo, On the Giants II.6; Genesis Apocryphon (1 QapGen 2:1; CD  2:17–19).

⁹ Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, and Origen.

¹⁰ For a competent defense of this reading, see Peter H. Davids, The Letters of 2 Peter and Jude (PNTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 48–51; also Gene L. Green, Jude & 2 Peter (BECNT; Grand Rapids: Baker, 2008), 66–70.

¹¹ John H. Walton, Genesis (NIVAC; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2001), 292.

¹² Matthews, 330.

¹³ Matthews, 331–32. Another interesting innovation on this view is Lyle Eslinger’s, who sees the sons of God as Cainite men and the daughters of man as Sethite women. However, this requires him to say that the title, “sons of God,” referring to ungodly Cainites, is used ironically, and so has failed to convince most interpreters. Lyle M. Eslinger, “A Contextual Identification of the bene haʾelohim and benoth haʾadam in Gen 6:1–4,” JSOT 13 (1979): 65–73.

¹⁴ So Walton, 292–93.

¹⁵ Meredith G. Kline, “Divine Kingship and Sons of God in Genesis 6:1–4,” WTJ 24 (1962): 187–204; David J. A. Clines, “The Significance of the ‘Sons of God’ Episode (Gen 6:1–4) in the Context of the ‘Primeval History’ (Gen 1–11),” JSOT 13 (1979): 33–46.

¹⁶ Targum Onkelos, Targum Pseudo-Jonathan, Targum Neofiti, and Symmachus.

¹⁷ Walton, 293.

¹⁸ J. J. Finkelstein, “The Antediluvian Kings: A University of California Tablet,” JCS 17 (1963): 46. The earlier suggestion that the Sumerian List(s) give ten generations before the flood as a parallel to Genesis 5 is now rejected. See Robert R. Wilson, “The Old Testament Genealogies in Recent Research,” in I Studied Inscriptions from Before the Flood: Ancient Near Eastern, Literary, and Linguistic Approaches to Genesis 1–11 (ed. Richard S. Hess and David Toshio Tsumura; SBTS 4; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2004), 209–210.

¹⁹ Victor P. Hamilton, The Book of Genesis Chapters 1–17 (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1990), 265.

²⁰ Although it is possible to hold the angelic view while denying this conclusion about the Nephilim.

²¹ In addition, Og king of Bashan, “of the remnant of the Rephaim,” is said to have slept on a nine-cubit bed (Deut 3:11). Deuteronomy 2:11 tells us that the Anakim “are counted as Rephaim.”

²² Heiser, 228–29.

²³ Suggested by Matthews, 337.

²⁴  An intriguing, yet flawed, line of evidence for taking the Nephilim to mean “giants” is given by Michael Heiser in his wildly popular book, Unseen Realm (106–107). Heiser goes beyond saying that the Nephilim are giants and argues that the term actually means “giants.” He does this by correctly noting a subtle difference in the spelling of the term in Genesis 6:4 and in one of the two times the word is written in Numbers 13:33 (note that the word occurs twice in this verse, but see note 24 below). To simplify, I will give the consonants. Once in Genesis and once in Numbers it is written nplym. However, the first occurrence of the word in Numbers 13:33 is written npylym—notice the extra y between the p and the l (the Hebrew letter yôd). He then points out that, while this spelling (supposedly) makes no sense in Hebrew, “the Jewish scribes,” in order to choose “a good word to villainize the giant offspring … adopted an Aramaic noun: naphiyla—which [surprise!] means ‘giant.’”

Has Heiser solved the riddle? In my opinion, no. Aramaic is a language with a long history, and the Hebrews would have been introduced to it during the phase called Imperial Aramaic, via the Babylonians. The term to which Heiser refers has no occurrences before the Qumran community used it in the Dead Sea Scrolls, where it almost certainly came to mean this because ofo the angelic interpretation of Genesis 6, which, we have already noted, is the most ancient understanding of this passage among the Jewish people. The Dead Sea Scrolls were produced hundreds of years after the writing of Genesis and Deuteronomy.

Further, Heiser, in my opinion, fails to appreciate the fact that Hebrew has other words that are formed in the same way that we see in the variant spelling npylym in Numbers 13:22, so there is no real need to appeal to Aramaic. An example of this is the plural of the substantival adjective meaning “small” or “young”: ṣʿyrym (notice the first y; the vocalized form is ṣeʿîrîm, and is found in Job 30:1). This nominal pattern is given in Joshua Blau, Phonology and Morphology of Biblical Hebrew (LSAWS 2; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2010) § 4.4.6.11.24.

²⁵ A literal translation of Joshua 13:33 is, “And there we saw the Nephilim, sons of Anak from the Nephilim.” This is strange wording and atypical for describing biological descent. Even more problematic, the Greek translation of the Old Testament (the Septuagint) does not contain the parenthetical remark, “sons of Anak from the Nephilim,” which is often a sign of a later Hebrew scribal addition, also known as a gloss.

by Doug Becker

Over the past few weeks, the eyes of the world have been fixed on eastern Europe, as Russian president Vladimir Putin’s forces invaded the sovereign nation of Ukraine, mercilessly attacking numerous cities and targeting civilians. This is the most aggressive military action in Europe since World War Two. The church’s response to this should be prayerful support and humanitarian action on behalf of the Ukrainian people, now being threatened by a cowardly yet dangerous dictator.

In some Christian circles, Russia’s actions have reignited interest for a kind of end-times speculation that attempts to sync contemporary events with various aspects of biblical prophecy. It is commonly asserted that that Russia is singled out—some would say by name—in two chapters in the book of Ezekiel as the head of a confederation of nations that will menace the world at an undisclosed time in the future (or in the present) and will eventually march against Israel.

This view is extremely prominent, and is expressed by many Christian leaders and resources, including Greg Laurie,[1]  Jonathan Cahn,[2]  Roger Barrier,[3]  John Hagee,[4]  and GotQuestions.org,[5]  among many, many others. Here we will examine whether it is true.

Introducing Ezekiel 38–39 

The prophet Ezekiel ministered during the final years of Jerusalem, before and shortly after the city was besieged and conquered by the Babylonian army. Chapters 1–24 are given before Jerusalem’s fall and contain pleas for repentance written to the city’s final generations (e.g., 18:21–23, 32). Chapters 25–32 are directed against Judah’s neighbors who gloated over and even actively participated in their destruction. God promises, “As for the house of Israel there shall be no more a brier to prick or a thorn to hurt them among all their neighbors who have treated them with contempt. Then they will know that I am the Lord GOD” (28:24).

Lastly, chapters 33–48, which contain the passage in question (Ezekiel 38–39), give hope to the remnant of Israel in exile. Whereas, in the past, Israel’s shepherds took advantage of the flock, consuming the sheep and clothing themselves with their wool, God promises a new shepherd from the line of David: “And I myself will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he shall feed them; he shall feed them and be their shepherd. And I, the LORD, will be their God, and my servant David shall be prince among them. I am the LORD; I have spoken” (34:23–24). This future messianic age, presided over by God’s shepherd-king, will be characterized by God’s people once again living in the land he had given them, this time as a permanent possession, made firm by God’s “covenant of peace.” There God will dwell in their midst forever (37:24–28). Ezekiel illustrates this coming restoration with a vision of a valley of bones, which come back to life and receive flesh once again as the Spirit of God revives them (chapter 37).

The book ends with a detailed description of Ezekiel’s vision of the new temple that will be the epicenter of true worship when God pours out his Spirit on the house of Israel (chapters 40–48).
But sandwiched between the glorious pictures of the messianic age and God’s magnificent temple are chapters 38 and 39, which tell of a massive attack on Israel, led by a mysterious figure called “Gog of the land of Magog.” All under the sovereign hand of God (38:4, 16), Gog will lead a massive coalition of “many peoples” in an attack against Israel (38:7–9). However, God will fight against Gog and his hordes, destroying them as they come against peaceful and unsuspecting Israel (38:17–23). God declares, “So I will show my greatness and my holiness and make myself known in the eyes of many nations. Then they will know that I am the LORD” (38:23). The spoil from the defeated armies will be so great that Israel’s inhabitants will cease cutting wood, and will use the enemy’s shields, bucklers, bows, arrows, clubs, and spears for fire kindling for seven years (39:9–10). Their bodies will take seven months to bury (39:11–16).

So Where’s Russia? 

Why do some Christians believe that Ezekiel 38 and 39, written in the sixth century BC, foretells twenty-first century geopolitics involving Russia, and/or, in generations past, the former U.S.S.R.? The answer stems from two challenges posed by these chapters.

The first is determining which historical events these chapters refer to. The prophets of Israel spoke to real nations who lived at a real place and time. Through them, God denounced both the northern and southern Israelite kingdoms, as well as the kingdoms around them—Moab, Edom, the Philistines, Phoenician cities like Tyre and Sidon, as well as great countries and empires like Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Greece, and eventually Rome. These are known from ancient history, and the fulfillments of the prophecies for and against them can often be pinpointed with surprising accuracy.[6]

Yet, the historian will search in vain for what is predicted in Ezekiel 38–39. While it is true that there are many historical events that we know of solely on the basis of a single text, the events that unfold in these chapters seem so significant that we would expect some record of them, whether textual or archaeological. But there is none.[7]  Moreover, it is difficult to see how and where they even could fit into any informed timeline of the history of the ancient Near East.[8]  While various candidates for Gog and Magog outside the Bible have been put forward throughout the years (see below), most of them seem unlikely to have led a coalition of the five other nations of Persia, Cush, Put, Gomer, and Beth-Togarmah.[9]  In fact, the Lydian king Gyges, who seems to be the most likely candidate for the the biblical Gog (see below),[10]  was a bitter enemy of Gomer (the Cimmerians) and was eventually killed by them in 645 BC, after two unsuccessful attempts to conquer him.[11]  Yet, Ezekiel seems to envision an unbelievably massive force attacking under the command of Gog: “You will advance, coming on like a storm. You will be like a cloud covering the land, you and all your hordes, and many peoples with you” (Eze 38:9).

For these reasons, some interpreters focus less on the question, “When did this happen?”, and turn instead to, “When will this happen?”—a perfectly respectable position, given that chapters 38 and 39 are nestled into the numerous prophecies and visions that dominate the final chapters of Ezekiel and speak of a distant hope of Israel’s future restoration and a manifestation of the glory of God. If the prophet is indeed speaking of events that will occur in the last days, then the realities foretold in these chapters should be expected to correspond with those in modern (or future) times.

But why identify Gog with Russia in particular? Gog and Magog are extremely obscure names that we hear virtually nothing about elsewhere in the Bible. Magog is mentioned as one of seven sons of Noah’s son Japheth in Genesis 10:2 and 1 Chronicles 1:5, but nowhere else. Gog is not found outside Ezekiel 38 and 39.[12]  Since this yields little useful information, attention has sometimes turned instead to two hints given by Ezekiel himself.

First, Ezekiel says that Gog’s “place” is “the uttermost parts of the north” (Eze 38:6, 15; 39:2). Of the modern nations located north of Israel, Russia is clearly the largest.

Second, Gog is called “chief prince of Meshech and Tubal” three times (Eze 38:2, 3; 39:1). The Hebrew word translated “chief” by the English Standard Version is rosh (technically transliterated rōʾš), which obviously sounds similar to “Russia.” This word usually means something like “head” (think Rosh Hashannah—literally “head of the year”), but here some interpreters have attempted to defend the idea that it is a name instead. The 1995 version of the New American Standard Version illustrates this option well: “Behold I am against you, O Gog, prince of Rosh, Meshech, and Tubal.”

Additionally, some have seen veiled references to Moscow and Tobolsk in the names Meshech and Tubal.

Those who accept this reasoning envision an end-times scenario wherein a confederation of nations, headed by Russia, will march against Israel, only to be squarely defeated by God. This is commonly thought to correspond to the final battle described in Revelation 20:7–9, where Gog and Magog are once again named as the head of a massive force leading an attack upon “the camp of the saints and the beloved city,” only to be destroyed by fire from heaven. For example, C. I. Scofield, author of the wildly popular Scofield Reference Bible, referring to Ezekiel 38–39, writes “The whole prophecy belongs to the future ‘day of Jehovah,’ and to the battle of Armageddon, but includes also the final revolt of the nations at the close of the kingdom-age.[13]

Those who hold to this interpretation of the Gog and Magog prophecy employ one or both of these strategies. Charles Dyer, for example, correctly regards rosh as an adjective, since the word is never used elsewhere as a proper noun (i.e., “chief prince of Meshech and Tubal,” vs. “prince of Rosh, Meshech, and Tubal”). He views the equation of Meshech with Moscow and Tubal with Tobolsk with equal skepticism. For him, the equation of Gog with the Soviet Union (Dyer wrote in 1985) is a matter strictly of geographical location: some of the lands named by Ezekiel were located in the former Soviet Union, and they come “from the far north.”[14]

Others fully embrace both arguments. Hal Lindsey, in his classic best-selling work of end-times speculation, The Late Great Planet Earth, uses the geographical argument and also (falsely) claims that, “According to most scholars, this word [rōʾš = Rosh] is used in the sense of a proper name, not as a descriptive noun qualifying the word ‘prince.’”[15]

What’s Wrong with This Picture?

I strongly disagree with both arguments for the identification of Gog with Russia.

The claim that Gog’s home in the “uttermost parts of the north” signifies Russia is problematic for several reasons. It is true that the extreme western flank of Russia is north of Israel. But Syria, Turkey, and Ukraine are as well, and the vast majority of Russia occupies land east of Israel’s location at 31º east longitude (Russia’s westernmost longitude is 19º E). Even if we assume that modern political entities are in view, it is unclear why Russia should be preferred over the others.
One might object, claiming, “Yes, but Ezekiel says that Gog comes from ‘the uttermost parts of the north,’ so it must be the nation furthest north” (38:15). I find this unpersuasive, because in determining meaning, we must ask what Ezekiel thought of as the uttermost parts of the north, rather than what comes to mind when we think of it. For Ezekiel, the furthest northern region would have been Anatolia, no further than modern day Turkey. But the language does not even require that. The phrase, “uttermost parts of the north” (Heb. yarketê ṣāpôn) occurs outside of Ezekiel’s prophecy in Psalm 48:3 and Isaiah 14:13. In the former, it refers to Zion (i.e., Jerusalem), and in the latter it is an undisclosed location under the dominion of the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar. Both references challenge the idea that “the uttermost parts of the north” are to be located in whatever country is the furthest north on a modern map. This is especially true of Psalm 48:3, which says this of Jerusalem, which sat squarely in the south of Israel’s territory, due west of the northern tip of the Dead Sea.

Moreover, it is by no means unique for a prophet to envision an invading horde approaching Israel from the north. Any major invasion from Mesopotamia (e.g., Assyria, Babylon) would have been perceived as coming from this direction since invading forces would need to follow the curve of the fertile crescent to reach the southern Levant. Jeremiah, for example, sees a boiling pot, “facing away from the north,” which symbolizes “all the kingdoms of the north . . . setting his throne at the entrance of the gates of Jerusalem” (Jer 1:13–19; see also 4:6; 6:1, 22; 10:22; 13:20; 25:8–14; 47:2; Eze 23:22–27).[16]

And so, even if we are committed to the idea that Ezekiel is foretelling events still future to us, why single out Russia? Certainly geography does not commit us to this.

But what about the other argument, that rosh can be regarded as proper name in Ezekiel 38:2, 3, and 39:1? It is important to realize that this word is extremely common, occurring 599 times in the Hebrew Bible. Without exaggeration, there is no other place where we find it as a proper name. It always means “head,” or something associated with it, such as hair, a metonymy for a whole person, or denoting something as first or foremost (such as here, “chief prince of Meshech and Tubal”). Reading rosh as a proper name in one passage would be akin to reading the word “head” in an English sentence and wondering if it is a name rather than a common noun. That would not be outside the realm of possibility—indeed the former guitarist from the rock band Korn is called Head (he’s a Christian now btw!). The point, however, is you would need a very good reason to think so, and that is what is lacking in Ezekiel 38. There is nothing odd about the sentence if rosh has the meaning it has everywhere else in the Old Testament. Moreover, there are even grammatical reasons in favor of not reading it as a name.[17]

I should mention that the Septuagint—the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible—treats rosh as a name (Greek Ρως). It is unclear why.

Nevertheless, both arguments used to identify Gog with Russia are unpersuasive, and so such an interpretation should be resisted. In fact, there is no good reason for the identification, whether linguistic or geographical. While modern events may have a role to play in the fulfillment of biblical prophecy, the Gog-Russia equation is too weak to play an important role in anyone’s understanding of end times.

Who (or What) Is Gog from the Land of Magog?

Whether one agrees with the identification with Gog and Russia or not, it seems clear that “Gog of the land of Magog” functions as a sort of code name or cypher for another entity that would reveal itself “after many days”/“in the latter years” (Eze 38:8). That is, whoever or whatever this is, his or its “real” name is not Gog. This should have little impact on one’s view of the Russia connection (or lack thereof), because either way Ezekiel is using the names of people and places from his time in order to describe a future state of affairs.

There is no consensus on where the biblical name Gog comes from. The most probable candidate is that it refers to the Lydian king Gyges (Akkadian Gūgu), who died approximately forty years earlier than Ezekiel’s prophecy. While the time difference can be explained by positing “Gyges” as a dynastic name handed down to different generations of Lydian kings (similar to the dynastic title Ben Hadad in the Bible[18]), this is unnecessary, since almost all agree that Ezekiel is not speaking of a person in his time. The identification of Gog with Gyges has the added benefit of explaining the otherwise obscure Magog as a Hebrew form of the māt gūgi, which would be the Akkadian way of saying “land of Gog.” Other less likely explanations of the name include a lesser-known Ugaritic deity called Gaga, Alexander the Great, and the Sumerian word for darkness, gûg.[19]

The key to understanding the significance of Gog in the unfolding plan of God is found in the context surrounding Ezekiel 38–39. Following the departure of God’s presence from the Jerusalem temple and the subsequent announcements of judgement against Israel and the nations, the fall of Jerusalem in chapter 33 gives way to several oracles that focus on the future hope for the people of God. In chapter 34, God promises a future shepherd-king from the line of David. Chapter 36 is a message to the mountains of Israel, which will serve as a fruitful welcome home for God’s people returning from exile, having been given new hearts by the Spirit of God. These exiles, symbolized by the valley of dry bones, will be given new life by the Spirit (chapter 37), and will enjoy God’s presence forever in a new majestic temple (chapters 40–48). As we noted earlier, the chapters about Gog and his armies belong to this series of prophecies.

Gog, then, symbolizes the earthly opposition that will come against the people of God “in the latter days,” drawing his army from all corners of the earth. But instead of harming God’s people, his forces will be roundly defeated by God in the spectacular, ultimate defeat of human violence and rebellion. A similar scenario is given in Zechariah 12:1–9, where the nations gather around Jerusalem to destroy her, only to be struck down by God. In the book of Revelation, this is described as the Battle of Armageddon, where Jesus, having returned as a mighty rider on a white horse, defeats the beast, the false prophet, and the armies who follow them (Rev 19:11–21). Likewise, Revelation 20:7–10 foretells a final defeat of Satan, the beast, and the false prophet, and their followers, who are called . . . wait for it . . . Gog and Magog.

So is Russia Gog? We have seen that there is no good reason to think so, either geographical or linguistic. On the other hand, insofar as any nation or institution stands opposed to God and his people, they do participate in the end-times entity that the Bible sometimes calls Gog. So perhaps our answer should be “no, but . . .” Jesus warned us that “wars and rumors of wars” would characterize this age we live in, and that this is to be expected, even though the kingdom of God is here and is growing. In this way, the events of our day, along with the many bloody conflicts of past generations, are all foreseen by him (Matthew 24:3–14). So, until the day when he returns in power and glory, we say, with our brothers and sisters throughout the ages, many of whom looked to their own current events with similar questions to ours, “Come, Lord Jesus. Come.”

Footnotes
[1] “Ukraine and Bible Prophecy (With Greg Laurie),” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CwMegTvUTWc.

[2] “2022: A Prophetic Outlook with Rabbi Jonathan Cahn,”  https://www.daystar.com/news-updates/general-updates/2022-a-prophetic-outlook-with-rabbi-jonathan-cahn/.

[3] “Gog and Magog: Who Are They and What Do They Have to Do with the Last Days” https://www.crosswalk.com/church/pastors-or-leadership/ask-roger/gog-and-magog-who-are-they-and-what-do-they-have-to-do-with-the-last-days.html.

[4] “The King of the North by John h,” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5raWdOq9bl0.

[5] “Does the Bible say anything about Russia in relation to the end times?” https://www.gotquestions.org/Russia-end-times.html.

[6] This has led skeptical scholars to conclude that several portions of Scripture must have been composed significantly later than seems otherwise probable. Consider, for example, the book of Daniel or so-called second and third Isaiah (chapters 40–66). While it would be an overstatement to say that anti-supernaturalism and reluctance to embrace predictive prophecy is the only reason why passages like these have been assigned late dates, such arguments are almost always a major part of the stated rationale.

[7] An exception to this is the analysis of I. M. Diakonoff, Predystorija armjanskogo naroda (Erevan: AN Armjankoj SSR, 1968), 179, who attempts to place these prophetic events in the Medo-Lydian war. The relevant section of this is translated and challenged by Michael C. Astour, “Ezekiel’s Prophecy of Gog and the Cuthean Legend of Naram-Sin,” JBL 95:4 (1976): 570–71.

[8] Unless one assumes, as some do, that Magog is a cipher for Babylon. Even so, it is hard to see how the events predicted in these chapters correspond to Babylon history. Consider, for example, the discourse about Gog’s burial in the Valley of Hamon-gog (Eze 39:11–17).

[9] Cush and Put are the African nations occupying modern Ethiopia and Libya, respectively. Gomer refers to a tribe from the Black Sea vicinity called Gimmiria in Akkadian sources and Cimmerian in Greek (Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel Chapters 25–48 [NICOT; Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 1998], 440). Beth-Togarmah was a prominent Neo-Hittite city known to the Hitties as Tegarama and in Akkadian as Til-garimmu (ibid., 74). Both Meshech and Tubal are Phrygian place names known from Assyrian sources (Muški and Tabal).

[10] In Assyrian sources, I Guggu šar māt Luddi (“Gyges, king of the land of Lydia”). Block, 433; Kenneth H. Cuffey, “Gog,” ABD 2:1056; Margaret S. Odell, Ezekiel (SHBC; Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005), 470; Benedikt Otzen, "גּוֹג," TDOT 2:421.

[11] See Anson F. Rainey and R. Steven Notley, The Sacred Bridge: Carta’s Atlas of the Biblical World (Jerusalem: Carta, 2006), 254–55.

[12] A different Gog occurs as a descendent of Reuben in 1 Chronicles 5:4.

[13] C. I. Scofield, ed., The Scofield Reference Bible: The Holy Bible Containing the Old and New Testaments (New York: Oxford University Press, 1917), 883. Scofield is referring to several events in his understanding of end-times chronology.

[14] Charles H. Dyer, “Ezekiel,” in The Bible Knowledge Commentary: An Exposition of the Scriptures, ed. J. F. Walvoord and R. B. Zuck (Wheaton, IL: Victor Books, 1985), 1299–1300.

[15] Hal Lindsey, The Late Great Planet Earth (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1970), 64. Lindsey cites two scholars in support of the proper name interpretation, both of whom are regarded highly by Hebrew contemporary scholars, yet whose views are also understood to sometimes be outdated. The first is Wilhelm Gesenius, whose entry for rōʾš in his classic 1846 lexicon identified this prophecy as containing the sole use of the word as a proper name, which he says is “undoubtedly the Russians” (Wilhelm Gesenius, Gesenius’ Hebrew and Chaldee Lexicon to the Old Testament Scriptures [trans. Samuel Prideaux Tregelles; Bellingham, WA: Logos Bible Software, 2003), 752). The other is Karl Keil, who, writing in the late nineteenth century followed Gesenius in reading rosh as a proper name, but denied any connection to Russia (https://www.studylight.org/commentaries/eng/kdo/ezekiel-38.html).

[16] On the supernatural implications of the dreaded foe from the north, see Michael S. Heiser, The Unseen Realm: Recovering the Supernatural Worldview of the Bible (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2015), 360–67.

[17] Daniel Block (435), following Jan Jozef Simons, points out that, if it is a proper name, one would expect a conjunction before “Meshech” (Geographical and Topographical Texts of the Old Testament (Leiden: Brill, 1959), 81; G. A. Cooke, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Ezekiel, ICC (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1936), 415.

[18] K. Lawson Younger, Jr., A Political History of the Arameans: From Their Origins to the End of Their Polities (ABS 13; Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016), 584.

[19] For the options, see Block, 433–34 and Cuffey, 1056.

by Doug Becker

Note: This essay was originally published as an appendix to Emergence's study guide for the book of Joshua in 2020.

God’s commands for the Israelites to wage war against the Canaanites present one of the most difficult ethical questions for Christians who believe that the Scriptures are the revealed Word of God. These commands are carried out in the book of Joshua, and can cause deep conflict between the theological and devotional truths taught in the stories on the one hand, and the historical reality of what it must have been like when the invading Israelite forces put the land’s inhabitants to the sword on the other. Many honest observers have wondered how the God who loved the world by sending his Son to die for us could also have commanded violence against an entire population of people.[1]

There are no simple and easy answers to this question, but our aim here is to try to provide a biblical framework for thinking about the challenges that face us as we read the book of Joshua. These questions are not new, and people of faith have wrestled with them throughout the centuries. Of the many answers that have been offered, some are more satisfactory than others, and often depend on one’s prior theological convictions (or lack thereof). As followers of Jesus, we believe that the proper posture for approaching this issue is encapsulated in Anselm of Canterbury’s famous and wise motto, “faith seeking understanding.” That is, we have many good reasons to believe in and trust the God of the Bible. And so, problems that seem challenging to us should be treated with diligence, patience, and open-mindedness, as well as the understanding that they do not somehow cancel out the positive reasons we have for believing in God and his goodness. Any realistic view of God must acknowledge that there are many aspects of him that are simply beyond human understanding. We therefore approach these questions in view of the wisdom given by God through the prophet Isaiah: “My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”[2]

The Heart of the Problem

The challenge we are addressing is raised by texts such as Deuteronomy 7:1–5:
When the LORD your God brings you into the land that you are entering to take possession of it, and clears away many nations before you, the Hittites, the Girgashites, the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, seven nations more numerous and mightier than you, and when the LORD your God gives them over to you, and you defeat them, then you must devote them to complete destruction [Heb. haḥărêm taḥărîm ʾōtām]. You shall make no covenant with them and show no mercy to them. You shall not intermarry with them, giving your daughters to their sons or taking their daughters for your sons, for they would turn away your sons from following me, to serve other gods. Then the anger of the LORD would be kindled against you, and he would destroy you quickly. But thus shall you deal with them: you shall break down their altars and dash in pieces their pillars and chop down their Asherim and burn their carved images with fire.

This is carried out by the Israelite forces in the book of Joshua. The summary of the battle of Jericho’s outcome stands as an example: “Then they devoted all in the city to destruction [wayyaḥărîmû], both men and women, young and old, oxen, sheep, and donkeys, with the edge of the sword” (Josh 6:21).[3]

A key biblical term used in both these passages, and others like them, is the Hebrew noun ḥerem, which is typically translated as “ban” or “devoted to destruction” (its related verb ḥāram occurs in the passages cited above). [4] This concept belongs to Israel’s ritual vocabulary alongside familiar terminology like “holy”/“common,” and “clean”/“unclean,” and indicates things that are irrevocably dedicated to the Lord. John P. Lilly describes it the idea as “uncompromising consecration without possibility of recall or redemption.”[5]  Accordingly, valuable objects were to be given to the sanctuary, and people and objects defiled by sin were to be destroyed.[6]  The Canaanite people and culture were utterly corrupt and evil, and had defiled the land that God had set apart as holy for his people. The idea of enemies and the spoils of war coming under a ban was not unique to Israel, and is attested also in texts from the eighteenth century BC in city of Mari,[7]  as well as the Mesha Stele, a monumental text dating to 840 BC in which a Moabite king recounts his version of the events surrounding 2 Kings 3, including the claim that he “devoted to destruction” (hḥrmth) the Israelite town of Nebo to his god, Ashtar-Kemosh.[8]  It isn’t surprising that we find this ideology of warfare throughout the ancient world. But how does is square with the God of the Bible? In order to get on the right track, let us first specify the nature of the problem.

A helpful place to begin is by asking, does the Bible teach that God has the right to take human life? The answer is yes. God will eventually conquer death itself.[9]  But until then, all human beings meet the same fate, even though Christ enables us to face it with hope. Some people die quickly and painlessly while others suffer long ordeals before passing. And if it is true, as the Bible teaches, that God is in sovereignly in control of every aspect of our lives, then death is no exception. We find this explicitly taught in Deuteronomy 32:39: “See now that I, even I, am he, and there is no god beside me; I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal; and there is none that can deliver out of my hand.” Biblical teaching is unequivocal: It is the will of God that all people eventually die physical death, and he is the one who decides when that will happen.[10] The life God gives is a gift, and he wrongs no one when he, in his wisdom, decides to take it eventually from every single one of us.

Moreover, death is a consequence of human sin. As Paul teaches in Romans 5:12, “Just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned.” And then, a chapter later, we read that “the wages of sin is death.”[11]  James also tells us, “Sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.”[12]  While it is certainly true that death can be used to describe our state of alienation from God,[13]  the connection between spiritual death and physical death as a result of sin cannot be overlooked.[14]  God would be just in taking of life even if this were not the case, but he is more justified in doing so given that it is.

If God, then, is justified in ending human life, in virtue of both his sovereignty and his justice, it is difficult to see how biblical accounts of him carrying this out should be viewed as problematic. This is true even if God does a lot of it at once, such as in the flood, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, or his judgment on the Canaanites. To be sure, the pictures painted in these stories are not pleasant; death rarely is. But if we accept the fact that God has the right to take life, and especially to do so as judgement for sin, then biblical depictions of him doing this present no real challenge to Christian faith, as emotionally difficult as this may seem to us. We should also note that God’s attitude towards his judgment of sinners is in no way sadistic delight, but rather grief: “Have I any pleasure in the death of the wicked, declares the Lord GOD, and not rather that he should turn from his way and live?”[15]

In light of these considerations, the real difficulty posed by the destruction of the Canaanites is not that it was the Lord’s will to judge them with death. Rather, it is that he commanded humans to carry this out. While God is justified in taking human life, under most circumstances, humans are not. One major reason why murder is wrong, under a biblical worldview, is that it robs God of a right that belongs only to him—the right to decide when to give and take life. It is not God’s will that human beings should exert this kind of power over one another. Commentator Nahum Sarna observes, “By his unspeakable act, the murderer usurps the divine prerogative and infringes upon God’s sovereignty; and, because human beings are created in the divine image, he also affronts God’s majesty.” [16] Although murder is certainly a crime against the victim, it is even more so a sin against God. This is why David, after killing Bathsheba’s husband Uriah, can pray in repentance, “Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight.”[17]

On the other hand, the Bible also teaches that God authorizes humans to take life under certain circumstances. Such circumstances would include punishment for capital crimes like murder[18]  or enslavement/slave-trading,[19]  justified warfare, and other acts that are protective in nature.[20]  When human beings do such things, they are acting as God’s agents.[21]  Therefore, a biblical perspective on killing would be something like the following: Intentional killing is sin except when it is authorized or commanded by God. The commands to war against the Canaanites fall withing these parameters, because, as we have seen, they were doing so in obedience to several commands given to them in the law of Moses (as the text explicitly says three times in Joshua 11:12–20).

Thus far, we have these two observations:

1. God is justified in his taking of human life, both because of his sovereignty and his righteousness in judgment.
2. Human beings are justified in taking life when doing so in accordance with God’s commands.[22]

Both these points are thoroughly biblical, and show that, given a Scriptural worldview, there is no true theological problem raised by the killing of the Canaanites.

One possible objection to this, however, would be to pit God’s portrayal in the Old Testament against his revelation in Christ in the New. Those who argue along these lines are correct to point out that there is a sense in which revelation is progressive. Things that are not clear or perhaps not revealed in earlier stages of redemptive history are revealed and become clearer in Christ. But some have taken this further, and have argued the Old Testament endorses a false view of God. Christians who think this way will usually suggest the Bible is a record, not of God’s revelation to us, but of our developing understanding of him.[23]

Space does not permit us to explore these different proposals to the extent they deserve, but we hope it is sufficient to note that such views do not take seriously enough the way Jesus and the New Testament writers affirm the Old Testament portrayal of God, even, and explicitly, with respect to the violence depicted in Joshua. Stephen, in his speech before being martyred in Acts 7, speaks approvingly of Joshua’s “dispossession” of the Canaanite peoples, attributing it to the work of God: he “drove them out before our fathers” (v. 45). Paul also, in his address to the synagogue in Pisidian Antioch, says that God was the one who “destroyed” the inhabitants of the land and “gave [it to Israel] as an inheritance” (Acts 13:19). Hebrews 11 praises the Old Testament military leaders explicitly for “conquering kingdoms” (vv. 32–34). All three of these passages treat Joshua’s military victories approvingly and attribute them to the work of God.

As Christians, our starting point should be how Jesus himself thought of the Old Testament. All indications show that he viewed it as the true word of God, such that to believe or disbelieve the Scriptures was to believe or disbelieve God.[24]  Neither Jesus nor the New Testament authors give the impression that the Old Testament is in need of correction. In fact, New Testament theology is grounded in the foundations established in the Old.

God’s attributes should not be placed at odds with one another, as if any of them undermines the others. He is all-knowing, all-powerful, perfectly loving, present everywhere, perfectly just, and completely sovereign. All of these are aspects of his holiness. Properly understood, these attributes complement one another and give us an accurate portrait of who God has revealed himself to be in all the Scriptures, nuanced and multitextured as they are. The love of God shown in Jesus Christ is magnified by the seriousness with which he judges sin. Only the life of the divine Son has the infinite value required to vindicate the holiness of the God of the Old Testament in his justification of sinners.

In sum, the Bible gives us a theologically consistent way of thinking about Joshua’s wars of conquest. God is justified in commanding war against the Canaanites, and the Israelites are justified in carrying out those commands. Nevertheless, we are likely left with a feeling that there is still something morally disturbing about both the commands and the stories. And for good reason. The violent taking of life should never sit easily with any morally serious thinker, let alone for those of us who believe that all human beings bear the image of God. More can and should be said, not least of all because these observations do not tell us the full story. We now turn to these, all of which should inform our thinking.

A Story from a Different Time
In the prologue to his 1953 novel, The Go-Between, the British author L. P. Hartley famously wrote, “The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”[25]  This encapsulates our first observation, which is simple, yet important for anyone doing serious thinking about historical matters. In some very fundamental ways, humanity will always be the same, and Ecclesiastes 1:5 will always be true: “There is nothing new under the sun.” The essential elements that make us who we are will always be relevant—we will always bear the image of God, and we will always be twisted by sin, victims to our own choices and shortcomings, yet also beautiful in the many ways we reflect our Creator. But there are other ways in which we are drastically shaped by the times and places into which we are born. Things that seem obvious, both morally and intellectually, to one group, will seem strange and even repulsive to others. It is natural to think that all people everywhere would be evil or ignorant to not see things as we do. But doing so virtually guarantees that we will misunderstand cultures that are different than our own.

Before making judgments about the characters and scenarios presented in the Bible, we must make every effort to check our cultural biases at the door. With respect to the book of Joshua, the nearly 3,250 years that separate us from the people we read about should caution us about assuming what we would do if we were in their situation. We live on the other side of countless events in human history that have molded and shaped the world around us. And not a single one of us—even our best historians—truly knows what it would have been like to live in an ancient Near Eastern tribal society, whether Israelite, Canaanite, Philistine, Egyptian, Phoenician, or the countless other groups that existed at the time. This is not to say that the Scriptures withhold judgment on the characters that populate its narratives; far from it. But it does mean that our intellectual and moral compasses have very limited value in a world so vastly unlike our own.

Did God Really Say?

The events of September 11, 2001 forced our society to open its eyes to the reality of religious extremism, included in which is the fact that a small yet significant percentage of the world’s population believes that their god has given them a mandate to kill people. In what way are the beliefs that drive this mentality different from those possessed by the Israelites as they entered into Canaan and went to war with its inhabitants? After all, both believed they were acting according to divine directives.

The fact that people often do mistakenly believe that they are following the commands of deities is a reality that the Bible takes very seriously. In fact, Scripture’s insistence on monotheistic faith stands in stark contrast to the polytheism that was prevalent in the ancient world, the latter of which accepted the reality of foreign deities and imagined a world in which the gods of certain nations were merely subservient to the gods of others. By way of contrast, the Bible teaches that other gods are false, and that those who follow them are self-deluded, merely worshiping the works of their own hands.[26]  God’s verbal revelation in both the Old and New Testaments functions against this backdrop.[27]

This provides the context for much of what we see in the stories of Israel’s early years, where God often seems intent on leaving no room for doubt that the revelation given through Moses was indeed from him. God judged Egypt through ten plagues.[28] He led them through the wilderness with a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night.[29]  He parted the Sea of Reeds, destroying the Egyptian force that pursued them.[30]  He sustained them with bread from heaven,[31]  water,[32]  and quail,[33]  as well as unambiguous military help,[34]  He visibly and audibly manifested himself on Mount Sinai.[35]  Moses’ face visibly glowed after being with God.[36]  The glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle once it had been consecrated.[37]  Both Miriam and Aaron’s opposition[38]  the rebellion of Korah[39]  were aimed squarely at the question of Moses as the exclusive mouthpiece of God, and both were met with swift and extraordinary divine judgment. Of all the tribes, God showed his favor on Aaron by causing his staff to bud.[40]  God sent fiery serpents as judgment against the people’s grumbling, and authorized Moses alone to provide the remedy,[41]  and he sent a plague on his people for worshiping Baal Peor, which abated only after Aaron’s son Phineas took action.[42]  And even as the people moved into the land, God’s presence was confirmed by him parting the waters of the Jordan,[43]  and his miraculous interventions in several key battles.[44]  Additionally, the authority of Moses is publicly passed on to Joshua, assuring that Israel would follow him, as they had followed Moses.[45]

While each of these blatantly miraculous acts had purposes of its own, they also served the function of eliminating any reasonable doubt as to whether their God was real and what he had commanded them. It is probably no exaggeration to say that there were likely no atheists among these generations of Israelites. Their belief or unbelief rested squarely on their hardness of heart, not on any purported lack of evidence. This stands in extreme contrast with the violent Islamic jihadist, whose only justification for his actions are interpretations of the Qur’an, which itself was given in private settings to Muhammad. The primary reason for objecting the Muslim extremist worldview is that those who believe it are deceived—their god does not exist, he has not spoken, and they do not have adequate justification for their dangerous beliefs. None of these things can be said of the Israelites. In fact, with only very few exceptions throughout redemptive history, few people who have ever lived have had stronger supernatural confirmation for their knowledge about God, including what he required of them.

The Myth of Peaceful Adversaries

We should not miss the fact that all modern Western critics of the early Israelite wars do so from the context of the most safe and secure societies the world has ever known. Most of us do not know what it is to live under constant physical threat to us, our families, and our livelihoods. Anyone who has read the Old Testament knows that war and the terrors that it brought were a real possibility at any and all times. Can we truly imagine what it would have been like to be homeless escaped slaves entering into a land filled with hostile city states that wouldn’t have hesitated to kill our men, rape our women, and make slaves of our survivors?

And this was, in fact, what Israel encountered. In the wilderness, having escaped the Egyptian army, Israel fell under almost immediate attack from Amalekite raiders.[46]  Recounting this, Deuteronomy 25:18 reminds God’s people of how Amalek purposely targeted their weak: “He attacked you on the way when you were faint and weary, and cut off your tail, those who were lagging behind you, and he did not fear God.”[47] Years later, as Israel attempted to move northward into the Transjordan, the king of Edom refused to give them passage, and even came out with “a large army and with a strong force” to stop them.[48]  Soon after this, Israel was attacked again by the king of the Canaanite city of Arad, who “fought against Israel and took some of them captive.”[49]  Matters did not improve as Israel moved even further north and were attacked by two different Amorite kings, Sihon and Og.[50]

According to the accounts of Joshua, many of the battles fought within Canaan were not initiated by the Israelite forces either. After the Israelites attacked Jericho and Ai, they faced a coalition of southern kings who attacked Gibeon in order to draw Israel into battle due to their treaty obligations.[51]  In a summary statement, the text tells us, “There was not a city that made peace with the people of Israel except the Hivites, the inhabitants of Gibeon.”[52]  Likewise, Jabin, king of Hazor, formed an alliance with several northern cities “and came out [against Israel] with all their troops, a great horde, in number like the sand that is on the seashore, with very many horses and chariots.”[53]

None of this should be taken to mean that all of Israel’s battles in the land of Canaan were defensive. We have already noted that Jericho and Ai were offensive, and the cities listed in Joshua 10:29–43 can be added to the list. Nor does it permit us to ignore the fact that Israel entered the land with the express purpose of driving out the native inhabitants. Had none of them attacked, Joshua would still have been divinely obligated to wage war against them. But these observations do allow us to more accurately assess the situation on the ground. These were not peaceful cities who would have been happy to welcome the tribes of Israel as their new neighbors. They were aggressors in their own right, ready to wage open war on God’s people.

Stated Purposes

The Old Testament gives two primary stated reasons for God’s commands for Israel to drive out the Canaanites. The first, which we have already noted, is that it was an act of judgment on the sinful city states within Canaan. Deuteronomy 9:4–5 is explicit:

Do not say in your heart, after the LORD your God has thrust them out before you, “It is because of my righteousness that the LORD has brought me in to possess this land,” whereas it is because of the wickedness of these nations that the LORD is driving them out before you. Not because of your righteousness or the uprightness of your heart are you going in to possess their land, but because of the wickedness of these nations the LORD your God is driving them out from before you, and that he may confirm the word that the LORD swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.

God is not giving the Promised Land to Israel as a reward for their upstanding moral character. They are the merely recipients of the gracious promises given centuries earlier to their forefathers, and the inhabitants are being driven out because of their own wickedness. Several passages elaborate on this theme. Deuteronomy 18:9–14 lists deviant religious practices such as child sacrifice, omen reading, necromancy, and other divinatory rites.[54]  Leviticus 18 catalogs numerous sexual practices as “abominations” for which “the land vomited out its inhabitants.”[55]  To these, we would add the willingness of the Canaanite cities to wage war against the Israelites, noted in the previous section, as evidence of their hostility and disregard for the vulnerable sojourners and foreigners.[56]

Another important statement relevant to this point is made in Genesis 15, the passage where God formally established his covenant with Abraham.[57]  Here, God tells him that the reason he brought him into Canaan was “to give you this land to possess.” But he also makes clear that this would not happen immediately. Rather, God told him of how his descendants would be “sojourners” and “servants in a land that is not theirs” for “four hundred years.” God ends this promise with the intriguing statement, “For the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet complete.”[58]  Apparently, even then God was delaying his judgment on the Canaanites, knowing that their wickedness would eventually grow to a point of necessitating divine justice.[59]

The second stated reason for driving out the Canaanites given in the biblical text is given in Deuteronomy 20:18: “. . . that they may not teach you to do according to all their abominable practices that they have done for their gods, and so you sin against the LORD your God.” This is reiterated elsewhere in Deuteronomy 7:4, 12:30, and 18:9. The Israelites had already proven susceptible to idolatrous religious practices, as evidenced in their worship of the golden calf in Exodus 32 and of the Moabite deity Baal Peor in Numbers 25. And the rest of the history of Israel given to us in the Old Testament is a testimony to how frequently God’s people became corrupted by idolatrous worship. To this we should add what we see our own lives, how easily our hearts turn aside from God to worship created things.

The critical question here is how important it is for God’s people to follow the first two of the Ten Commandments—do not place other gods before the Lord, and do not worship him through the use of idols. The way we answer this will greatly impact what we make of much of the violence in the Old Testament. If we feel that the abandonment of the Lord for the worship of other gods is no big deal, then we will probably view much of what we read in the Bible as a gross overreaction. However, according the Bible, following these commandments, and the preservation of true worship of the one true God is of critical importance.

God’s violent response to human sin is just that—he is responding to evil. Of course, the severity of any evil act depends on what makes an action moral or immoral, especially the degree of harm that is inflicted. If we accept the narrative of Scripture, that Israel is central to the plan of God to decisively counter the plague of sin that robs God of his glory and brings death and condemnation to everyone who has ever lived, then an individual or a community acting in willing opposition to that plan would be guilty of a very serious criminal act. The command to devote the Canaanites to destruction is given to protect God’s chosen people from the idolatry that would have drawn Israel away from God (as it eventually did), and to judge sin. If we think little of these objectives, then we will have a very hard time coming to terms with what we find in the pages of Joshua. But if we accept what the Bible teaches, then this will have to enter into our calculation—that there was a time and place when God dealt visibly with unrepentant sin, and this should serve as a warning for all of us.

Refusal of Peace

As we noted in chapter 2 of this study, the nation of Israel was not a closed group that outsiders had no hope of joining. Several passages indicate clearly that people who were not descended from Abraham were to be welcomed into the covenant people, on the condition that they would embrace the Lord as their God. We see this in the “mixed multitude” that left Egypt along with the Israelites in Exodus 12:38, as well as other non-Israelites who were incorporated into holy nation over the years, with Caleb the Kenezzite standing as a powerful example.

It is probably no coincidence that the very first Canaanite encountered in the land is Rahab, who turned to the Lord, was spared the fate of her city, and was welcomed into Israel. Indeed, her story stands in juxtaposition to that of Achan, an Israelite who turned his heart away from God and was placed under the ḥerem alongside the enemies of God. The Canaanites’ unwillingness to turn from their sin and join Israel is also displayed in Joshua 11:19, where we are told that “there was not a city that made people with the people of Israel except the Hivites, the inhabitants of Gibeon.” Thus we should not assume that the Canaanites who were killed in the wars of conquest had no choice but to be destroyed. Rather, they believed that their superior numbers, fortified cities, military strength would enable them to continue in their sinful practices.

A New and Better Way

It is not uncommon for Christians to be accused of cherry-picking the Bible—focusing on the parts we like and avoiding those that we don’t. This is indeed a problem in the church, especially among those of us who don’t consistently read through our Bibles. This results in a lopsided view of God and a faith that is ill-equipped to stand up to challenges and personal struggles. So let’s get it out of the way: We all need to cherry-pick less.

But are we cherry-picking when we follow the loving pattern of Jesus and the early church, rather than violent examples in the Old Testament, such as we find in the book of Joshua? (This is not to say that there are not loving parts in the Old Testament, or wrathful parts in the New.) Not at all, because the Bible itself teaches a distinction between what God was doing in the Old Testament and what he is doing in the New. Jesus’ disciples are not bound by the Old Covenant, or by the law that governed God’s people under it. When Christians eat shellfish, get tattoos, and grow cucumbers alongside asparagus and Carolina Reaper peppers, we are not doing so simply because we have chosen to ignore the parts of the Bible that we don’t like.

To the contrary, the reason why we do not observe these laws, or deal with idolatry the way Israel did (when it chose to deal with it), is because the Bible itself teaches us that Christians are no longer under the jurisdiction of the Law of Moses—the law that provided moral guidance for ancient Israel between twelve and fourteen hundred years before the coming of Christ. This law, which was the ethical standard for the Old Covenant, was given to govern a specific people, at a specific time, under specific circumstances, at a specific point in God’s overall plan of redemption—all of which are different than our own. According to the New Testament, Christians are under the New Covenant in Christ (Luke 22:20; 1 Cor 11:25; 2 Cor 3:5–6, Heb 7:22). The Old Covenant law, therefore, is not the Christian’s master; Jesus is. This is why Paul can stand as “not being myself under the law” (that is, the law of Moses), “but under the law of Christ” (1 Cor 9:20–21). This is also why the early church, faced with the question of whether to require Gentile converts to submit to the law of Moses, had the freedom to conclude that doing so would be “putting God to the test by placing a yoke on the neck of the disciples that neither our fathers nor we have been able to bear.” To the contrary, Peter contended, “We believe that we will be saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, just as they will” (Acts 15:5, 10–11).

The New Covenant is “not like the covenant that [the Lord] made with [Israel’s] forefathers on the day when [he] took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt” (Jer 31:32). As the writer of Hebrews puts it, “In speaking of a new covenant, he makes the first one obsolete. And what is becoming obsolete and growing old is ready to vanish away” (Heb 8:13; Rom 11:27). There is a legitimate biblical difference between the ethic required by those in Jesus’ kingdom and that which was required of the ancient Israelites.

Much more could be said about the relationship between Old Testament law and the Christian. For example, none of this means that Old Testament laws, such as the Ten Commandments, have no relevance for the Christian life. The principles that lie behind the letter of the law are relevant for all of God’s people at all times. Our task with these laws is to discern these principles and to let them inform our conduct in light of the coming of Christ. Our point here is simply to state that it would actually be unbiblical for Christians to engage in the kind of violence found in the Old Testament laws and stories, because God’s mission for the church is different than it was for Israel. As the church, we are not a political entity with an earthly king, requiring our spiritual leaders to use military force to defend and preserve our religious life. We aren’t called to inhabit a land, but are rather called out from every land. And, unlike Israel, our spiritual wellbeing doesn’t stand or fall on the religious policies of any particular government.

Approaching These Matters with Unbelievers

We live in a day when one no longer needs to read the Bible, or any book for that matter, in order to find reasons to reject Jesus. A myriad of skeptical sources awaits anyone with Google and a pulse. And the topic addressed here will be at the top of the list of anyone looking for moral problems in the Bible. Our hope is that the information provided here would prove helpful to those encountering such objections. But we would also remind the Christian seeking to witness to his or her unbelieving friends that these questions are not of “first importance.” Although they may be encountered as roadblocks to belief, we must remember that providing answers to them that unbelievers will find morally satisfying should not be thought of as a necessary prerequisite for sharing the gospel, as if the truthfulness of Jesus’ death and resurrection, and the forgiveness found in him, somehow depends on cracking the moral dilemmas of the Old Testament. For this reason, we recommend refocusing unbelieving friends and family members on the critical question of the gospel, and realizing that the matters covered in these pages are best handled from Anselm’s perspective, mentioned at the outset, of faith seeking understanding.

Footnotes
[1] This important issue has been treated at length in many publications. The most thorough and rigorous work of which we are aware is Paul Copan and Matthew Flannigan, Did God Really Command Genocide? Coming to Terms with the Justice of God (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2014). A shorter version can be found in chapters 15–17 of Copan’s earlier work, Is God a Moral Monster? Making Sense of the Old Testament God (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2011).

[2] Isaiah 55:19.

[3] Also Joshua 7:21–29; 10:28–43; 11:10–15, 19–23.

[4] In the Hebrew Old Testament the verb occurs 51 times and the noun occurs 29 times.

[5] J. P. U. Lilley, “Understanding the Ḥerem,” Tyndale Bulletin 44.1 (1993): 176–77.

[6] Leviticus 27:28–29.

[7] Abraham Malamat, Mari and the Early Israelite Experience, The Schweich Lectures of the British Academy 1984 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), 70–79. In Mari, the term used for this concept is asakkum.

[8] K. A. D. Smelik, “The Inscription of King Mesha,” in Context of Scripture Volume 2: Monumental Inscriptions from the Biblical World (ed. William W. Hallo and K. Lawson Younger, Jr.; Leiden: Brill, 2003), § 2.23. Reflecting the ritual nature of this term, Smelik translates it, “killed as a sacrifice.” Younger notes even more extreme versions of this idea in Assyrian texts, such as the Annals of Aššur-nasir-pal II: “I made a pile of their corpses. I burned their young boys (and) girls. I flayed Hulaya, their city ruler; (and) I draped his skin over the wall of the city of Damdammusa. I razed, destroyed, (and) burned the city” (cited in K. Lawson Younger, Jr., Ancient Conquest Accounts: A Study in Ancient Near Eastern and Biblical History Writing [LHBOTS 98; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1990], 236).

[9] Isaiah 25:8; 1 Corinthians 15:54–55; Hebrews 2:14–15; Revelation 20:14; 21:4.

[10] Notwithstanding the exception of those in Christ who are alive at his coming (see 1 Thessalonians 4:15–17).

[11] Romans 6:23.

[12] James 1:15.

[13] Luke 15:24; Ephesians 2:1, 5; 4:18.

[14] For example, Genesis 5.

[15] Ezekiel 18:23; also v. 32; 33:11; Genesis 6:6; Isaiah 63:10; Ephesians 4:30; 1 Timothy 2:3–4; 2 Peter 3:9.

[16] Nahum M. Sarna, Exodus, JPSTC (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1991), 113.

[17] Psalm 51:4.

[18] Exodus 21:12–14; Leviticus 24:17–23; Numbers 35:9–34.

[19] Exodus 21:16; Deuteronomy 24:7.

[21] The Bible contains other examples of people acting as God’s agents in judgment. The Assyrian armies were sent against the Northern Kingdom of Israel as a judgment for their sins (2 Kings 17:6–18: Isaiah 10:5–19), as were the Babylonians against Judah (Jeremiah 21:1–10). One big difference between these nations and the Israelites under Joshua is that the Israelites were acting out of obedience to the Lord, while the Assyrians and the Babylonians were acting out of their own sinful ambition, and were themselves judged accordingly. Nevertheless, in all three cases, God used human warfare to judge sin.

[22] If this latter point seems harsh, consider that most people believe killing is justified in certain circumstances, irrespective of religious considerations (e.g., capital punishment, justified warfare).

[23] Examples would include Peter Enns, Eric Seibert, Brian Zahnd, and Gregory Boyd. There are, of course, others who would argue that the task of modern theology is to continue to correct the primitive views of God found even in the New Testament.

[24] Matthew 4:4; 19:4–6; 22:41–45; Mark 7:9–13; John 10:35–36; 17:17.

[25] L. P. Hartley, The Go-Between (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1953).

[26] Deuteronomy 4:35, 39; 32:39; 1 Samuel 2:2; Isaiah 44:8–20; 45:5–7, 18, 21–22; Joel 2:27.

[27] First Corinthians 8:4; 1 Timothy 2:5.

[28] Exodus 7–12.

[29] Exodus 13:17–22; Numbers 10:11–35.

[30] Exodus 14.

[31] Exodus 16.

[32] Exodus 17:1–7; Numbers 20:2–13.

[33] Numbers 11:31–35.

[34] Exodus 17:8–16; Numbers 21:1–3, 21–35.

[35] Exodus 19:16–20; 20:18–21; 24:9–18.

[36] Exodus 34:29–35.

[37] Exodus 40:34–38.

[38] Numbers 12.

[39] Numbers 16.

[40] Numbers 17.

[41] Numbers 21:4–9.

[42] Numbers 25.

[43] Joshua 3.

[44] Joshua 6; 10:1–15.

[45] Numbers 27:12–23; Joshua 1:5, 16–18.

[46] Exodus 17:8–16.

[47] Here the Amalekites are personified as an individual—a he.

[48] Numbers 20:20–21.

[49] Numbers 21:1–3. Arad is one of the cities later defeated in Joshua’s southern campaign (Joshua 12:14).

[50] Numbers 21:21–35.

[51] Joshua 10:1–28.

[52] Joshua 11:19.

[53] Joshua 11:4. For the battle, see Joshua 11.

[54] Here, child sacrifice is referred to as “making one’s son or daughter pass through the fire.” This is a common expression in the Old Testament (Leviticus 18:21; 2 Kings 16:3; 17:17; 21:6; 23:10; Jeremiah 32:35; Ezekiel 16:21; 20:26, 31; 23:37), and seems, both here and in 2 Kings 17:17 and 21:6, to be connected with divination. Elsewhere other expressions are used, such as in Deuteronomy 12:31, which speaks of Canaanites “burning their sons and their daughters in the fire to their gods.” The strongest archaeological evidence for child sacrifice is found in the Phoenician city of Carthage, where a massive 6,000 square meter burial ground of infants and children burned in sacrificial rituals has been excavated. It should be noted that Phoenician religion had many similarities to the religion of Canaan, and is often cited in scholarly literature as evidence for Canaanite beliefs and practices. Writing in the third century BC, the Greek author Kleitarchos describes the practice: “Out of reverence for Kronos [the Greek equivalent of Baʿal Hammon], the Phoenicians, and especially the Carthaginians, whenever they seek to obtain some great favor, vow one of their children, burning it as a sacrifice to the deity, if they are especially eager to gain success. There stands in their midst a bronze statue of Kronos, its hands extended over a bronze brazier, the flames of which engulf the child. When the flames fall upon the body, the limbs contract and the open mouth seems almost to be laughing, until the contracted [body] slips quietly into the brazier. Thus it is that the ‘grin’ is known as ‘sardonic laughter,’ since they die laughing” (P. G. Mosca, Child Sacrifice in Canaanite and Israelite Religion: A Study in Mulk and Molech (PhD diss., Harvard University, 1975), 22. For more details, see Lawrence E. Stager and Samuel R. Wolff, “Child Sacrifice at Carthage: Religious Rite or Population Control?” BAR 10.1 (1984): 30–51.

[55] Leviticus 18:25.

[56] During the period of the judges, the Canaanite military commander Sisera’s mother is portrayed as testifying to her son’s practice in war: “Have they not found and divided the spoil? A womb or two for every man” (Judges 5:29–30).

[57] His name was Abram at this point.

[58] Genesis 15:7–8, 13–16.

[59] The term “Amorite,” which derives from the Sumerian Martu and the Akkadian ammuru, meaning “westerner,” is often used in the Bible to refer to non-Israelite “hill-dwellers,” and, as here, as a synecdoche referring to all Canaanites. See Tomoo Ishida, “The Structure and Historical Implications of the Lists of Pre-Israelite Nations,” Biblica 60 (1979): 461–90; Kevin G. O’Connell, “The List of Seven Peoples in Canaan,” in The Answers Lie Below: Essays in Honor of Lawrence Edmund Toombs (ed. A. G. Thompson; Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1984), 221–41.

Questions surrounding race are among the most important in our current cultural landscape. Emergence's Statement on Racial Unity is intended to lay Scripturally-grounded foundation for our church as we navigate these issues.

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by Doug Becker, Pastor of Theology

Most Christian churches, Emergence included, celebrate Christmas. We decorate, we sing songs, and we have special services. We gather in our homes with our loved ones to feast and to give gifts. And we walk around wishing one another a merry Christmas.

But are we right to do all this? Is it healthy for us, as disciples of Jesus, to give this holiday such an important place on our calendars, and to observe it in the ways we do? Or, perhaps, have we uncritically accepted rites, practices, and symbols that are irredeemably pagan and opposed to the worship of the one true God into our lives and churches? Not surprisingly, there is no shortage of voices claiming that the latter is indeed what is happening when Christians celebrate Christmas.

So what do we do? How do we evaluate two very different positions on this—one that sees Christmas as one of, if not the “most wonderful time of the year,” and another that sees it as rank idolatry?

As with many things, we first recognize this as an area where Christians can, in good conscience, agree to disagree. Before challenging one another on morally ambiguous areas, we should meditate on Paul’s advice in Romans 14, where he instructs believers who disagree on potentially divisive issues to learn to live graciously with one another—as he says elsewhere, “eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Eph 4:3). The church should be a place where people who have strong convictions on controversial topics should be able to fellowship alongside those who do not, or even those who are convinced otherwise. This means being slow to pass judgment on one another and being sensitive to those who are weak of conscience. Our hope is the same as Paul’s: “May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus, that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom 15:5–6).

On the other hand, this doesn’t mean that churches should never take positions on such things. In fact, it is impossible to avoid doing so. With respect to Christmas, for instance, a church must decide either to observe it or not. And if we do observe it, we must decide how. There is no way to truly remain neutral. So, as a pastor of a church that does celebrate Christmas, I offer the following comments to those who are interested, with a desire to foster both unity and critical thinking.

Is Christmas a Holiday with Pagan Roots?

It is often claimed that many of the trappings we associate with Christmas have their origins in non-Christian religion. On the Roman calendar, December 25 is the date of the winter solstice, the day when the North Pole tilts the furthest from the sun, producing the shortest span of daylight in the Northern Hemisphere during the year. In ancient Rome, this was preceded by Saturnalia, a festival honoring the Roman deity Saturn, which featured, among other things, candle lighting, feasts, evergreen wreaths, and gift giving. According to the first-century Roman historian Pliny the Elder, mistletoe was used by Celtic druids in a healing ritual.[1] In the tenth century, Haakon I of Norway took steps to merge the pagan festival Yule with Christmas. It has been suggested that much of the Santa Clause imagery derived from Yuletide depictions of the Norse god Odin (or Wodin), who had a white beard and flew through the sky on an eight-legged horse to deliver gifts.

It should be noted that links between Christmas and pagan religion are not as clear as is often claimed. Three examples are in order. First, Pliny (again, a first-century author) is the only reference to mistletoe use among the druids (and his report may be based on hearsay), and we have no records of Christmas being celebrated until 336 AD.[2] Second, there is evidence that Christians connected the winter solstice with Jesus’ birth for “theological” reasons, rather than a desire to “Christianize” Saturnalia. Augustine, for instance, suggested that God chose the shortest day to underscore the humility of his Son.[3] It should come as no surprise that significant astronomical events served more than one purpose in the ancient world. And Scripture by no means prohibits their use for the setting of important dates. Moon phases were used to set Israel’s festal calendar (e.g., Num 29:6; 1 Chr 23:30–31). This should come as no surprise to us who confess that the heavenly luminaries were placed in the sky “for signs and for seasons” (Gen 1:14). Third, the origins of the Christmas tree are so ambiguous that its true “origin” and symbolic significance cannot be reliably discerned, given our current historical knowledge. Did its decorative apples (the possible precursor to ornamental bulbs) signify pagan fertility religion, or the fruit of the tree of life from Genesis 2 and 3, which was symbolized in celebrations of Adam and Eve’s name day, December 24? We should require more evidence than “someone said this on the internet,” or even, “someone wrote this in a book.” People say and write a lot of things.

But even if this none of this were so—even if someone better-versed in the history of Christmas lore were to prove every word of my previous paragraph wrong, and even if examples of Christmas’ pagan roots were multiplied—it would not matter. And that’s because the meaning of cultural words and symbols is dependent on how they are used by particular people, in particular places, and at particular times, including our own. In other words, the symbols of Christmas—the dates, the trees, the gifts, the mistletoe—only have the meanings we assign to them. Meaning is inescapably in the eye of the beholder; by definition it is something that we subjectively assign to things. When we look into the past at the meaning of cultural objects (cultural “texts,” whether written, material, acted, or otherwise), we are observing what the people who used them long ago meant by them. At times, we may wish to accept what is communicated through these things as true or worthy of belief or practice. At other times, we may not. But the historical meaning that something once had does not remain with that thing until the end of time.

So, we might say, “Hanging red bulbs and candles in an evergreen tree used to mean this, but now we mean this by it,” or even, “We do this just because it looks pretty.” Or, “Some people used to think that mistletoe had healing properties. Now we know that’s silly, and when we hang it up it means that if you and someone else end up standing beneath it you have to kiss”—a practice that might be objectionable on other grounds ;-). And that would be fine. Cultural objects are constantly assigned and reassigned meanings by the people who observe and use them.

My point is this: Just because something had a meaning for some people at a particular time and place does not mean that it always has that meaning; nor does the use or employment of that thing mean that you are endorsing all that has ever been believed about it.

Think about it this way. Is it wrong to call the days of the week by their traditional names? Historically, every single one of their names is tied to pagan deities. Yet almost no one thinks of the days as belonging to Sól, or Máni, or Týr, or Odin, or Thor, or Frigg, or Saturn. Nor are most people today even aware of the historic “pagan roots” of the days of the week. Nor would it be correct to say that we are somehow engaging in idolatry when we call our days names that can be rightly and unambiguously tied to false worship in ages past. This, by the way, should put to rest the objection that the very term “Christmas” (“Christ’s Mass”) is tainted with Roman Catholic connotations, even apart from questions of Roman doctrine. It shouldn’t be surprising that a massive portion of our cultural heritage, touching every aspect of our lives, derives, in some way shape or form, from non-Christian religious practices. Our lives would be unlivable and our languages unspeakable if meaning was a static thing, impervious to culture. Fortunately, it is not.

Interestingly, God does not shy away from repurposing objects, symbols, institutions, and concepts that originally had pagan backgrounds, and assigning them new meanings, based on his character and his truth. Here are three biblical examples. Many more could be cited.

First, circumcision is introduced to Abraham’s family in Genesis 17 as the sign of God’s covenant with him and his offspring. The reason for this appears to be that a mark on the male reproductive organ was seen as fitting for a covenant that was transmitted genetically. However, circumcision did not originate in the Bible. It has long been known to have been an important rite in Egypt, stretching back as far as the predynastic period. Additionally, excavations in the ʿAmuq valley in northern Syria have turned up male figurines from the Early Bronze Age (2,800 BC), over a thousand years earlier than Abraham, bearing clear marks of circumcision.[4]

Second, archaeologist William Dever has shown that the Israelite temple built by Solomon, as detailed in 1 Kings 6–7, is clearly patterned after Canaanite-Phoenician temples from the 15th–9th century BC (Solomon’s temple was constructed in the 10th century).[5] According to Dever, these similarities extend to “every single feature” of Solomon’s temple. This includes the tripartite layout, down to its very dimensions, the stone blocks prefinished at quarries and fitted together on site (a style known as ashlar masonry), the two columns with “palmette” style decorated capitals at a vestibule entrance, and the presence of cherubim (mixed creatures) bearing the throne of the deity. None of this is surprising, given that 1 Kings 5 tells of the Phoenician king Hiram of Tyre’s extensive involvement in Solomon’s temple building project.

Third, Isaiah 27:1 portrays the Lord battling the mythological creature Leviathan, who is described, in parallel lines, as “the fleeing [Heb. bāriaḥ] serpent” and “the twisting [ʿăqallātôn] serpent.” Isaiah wrote in the late 8th century BC. At least seven centuries earlier, Ugaritic scribes used identical language to tell of their god Baal’s purported defeat of the sea monster Leviathan, described by them as “the fleeing [brḥ] serpent . . . the twisting [ʿqltn] serpent, the close-coiling one with seven heads”[6] (note the plural “heads of Leviathan” in Ps 74:14).[7] Just to be clear, the Bible does not commit us to believing in seven-headed sea monsters, or that Isaiah is indulging in the same kind of extensive myth-making known from the other ancient Near Eastern nations. (Note, for example, that Baal does this as part of a much longer, detailed narrative, whereas Isaiah simply mentions this in passing.) No more is Isaiah claiming that Leviathan is real than he is claiming that the Lord actually has a “hard and great and strong sword.” What this does mean, however, is that the prophet sees nothing wrong with reappropriating elements of pagan religious imagery to tell the true story of the one true God.

And so, it is hard to see how there is anything idolatrous or unbiblical about endowing symbols that were at one time associated with false religion with new meaning and connotations that are, at least ideally, aimed at glorifying Christ. That is, if we allow the Bible to teach us what idolatry is, as well as what is true and legitimate worship.

Does the  Bible Command Us to Celebrate Christ’s Birth as a “Holy Day”?

Another line of objection to the observance of Christmas is that the New Testament does not prescribe new holidays (literally, “holy days”) that Christians are obligated to observe. Such would be in contrast to required holy days for the Israelites in the Old Testament in passages like Leviticus 23. In fact, as I argued in my blogpost on the Sabbath, the New Testament gives us good reason to think Christians are not even bound to practice a seventh-day rest. Both Romans 14:5–6 and Colossians 2:16–17 instruct us against requiring the observance of special days. This is a good point, and needs to be acknowledged: There is certainly nothing wrong or unchristian about not celebrating Christmas—a reason why this post is not called “Should Christians Celebrate Christmas?”

On the other hand, there is good positive evidence in the New Testament that the churches, under the guidance of the apostles, commemorated the first day of the week—the day on which Christ rose—as the “Lord’s Day,” and observed it as a special day of corporate worship, just as we do today (Acts 20:7; 1 Cor 16:2; Rev 1:10). Moreover, this was done without it being explicitly commanded. I also note that the nativity stories in both Matthew and Luke give precedent for ascribing to Christ special honor at his birth.

It is biblical, therefore to commemorate the birth of Jesus with feasting and celebrating. But it is also biblical not to do so. Both views are justifiable for Christians, and should be respected within the community of faith.

Some Final Thoughts

We shouldn’t stop there, because there are right reasons and wrong reasons both for abstaining and from partaking. I have already discussed the wrong reasons for abstaining—or at least, reasons for abstaining that I find unconvincing: the alleged pagan roots of Christmas and a lack of an explicit biblical command to observe it. A right reason for abstaining might be something like not wanting to partake in something that should be special and glorifying to God but has become corrupted by materialism and consumerism. It is certainly appropriate, and even necessary, for Christians to feel grieved by the way Christmas is celebrated, where we, through our actions if not our words, encourage our children to feel more excitement over what is under the tree than who was in the manger.

Let’s not fool ourselves though—so much of what is truly good has been warped and distorted by human sin. And the proper response is usually not to abandon those things, but to reclaim them in a constant reaffirmation of the lordship and supremacy of Jesus over all things. For those of us whose consciences are moved each Christmas when we see those around us (and ourselves) paying more regard to gifts and gluttony than we do to God and the giving of his Son, perhaps we would do well to exercise restraint during the holiday season. But make no mistake, the meaning of Christmas—the birth of Jesus—is and ought to be the cause of great celebration. We don’t always have the ear of the unbelieving world. But on Christmas, we do. So let’s not shy away from proclaiming the “good news of great joy for all the people, for unto us is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10–11).

[1] Pliny the Elder, Natural History 16.95.
[2] It is mentioned as a feast day in section 12 of the Chronograph of 354.
[3] Augustine of Hippo, sermon 192, “For the Feast of the Nativity.”
[4] Jack M. Sasson, “Circumcision in the Ancient Near East,” JBL 85 (1966), 473–76. The official report is Robert J. Braidwood and Linda S. Braidwood, Excavations in the Plain of Antioch, 1 (OIP 61; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960). Images of the three figurines (A, B, and C), can be found on pages 306–309, with discussion of circumcision on 302–303.
[5] William G. Dever, What Did the Biblical Writers Know and When Did They Know It? What Archaeology Can Tell Us about the Reality of Ancient Israel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 144–57. Dever provides many more examples.
[6] The Baʿlu Myth," translated by Dennis Pardee (COS 1.86.265). The parallel appears even closer when one considers that the Hebrew term “twisted” (ʿăqallātôn) occurs only here in the Hebrew Bible. This observation causes Richard Averbeck to call this “a free quotation of the myth of Baal’s battle  with the sea monster” (“Ancient Near Eastern Mythography as It Relates to Historiography in the Hebrew Bible: Genesis 3 and the Cosmic Battle,” in The Future of Biblical Archaeology: Reassessing Methodologies and Assumptions, ed. James K. Hoffmeier and Alan Millard [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004], 339).
[7] Averbeck, 337–40; André Caquot, "Le Léviathan de Job 40, 25–41, 26," RBib 99 (1992): 40–69.

by Donna Aust

[20] Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons and, kneeling down, asked a favor of him. [21] “What is it you want?” he asked. She said, “Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.”[22] “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said to them. “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?” “We can,” they answered. [23] Jesus said to them, “You will indeed drink from my cup, but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared by my Father.” [24] When the ten heard about this, they were indignant with the two brothers. [25] Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. [26] Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, [27] and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— [28] just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
 
A Mother’s Plea
What good Jewish mother wouldn’t do what this mother did for her two sons? As a mother of four boys I can empathize with wanting what’s best, or at least what I believe is best for my sons.  Unfortunately, we often allow our presuppositions to influence our beliefs and choices. In this passage we will examine how a mother’s request to have her two sons placed in prominent positions of honor and proximity to Jesus misses the essence of His mission and the heartbeat of discipleship.
 
Although Matthew’s account has the mother of John and James petitioning Jesus, Mark’s account excludes this detail by having the Zebedee sons petitioning Jesus directly (Mark 10:35). The exclusion in Mark’s Gospel suggests that these sons were behind their mother’s request, especially since in Matthew’s account Jesus shifts his attention and responds to the sons and not the mother (v. 22). So why would these sons enlist their mother to do their bidding? According to Jewish tradition, older women received greater respect than younger women and were more apt to escape ridicule if making bold requests, requests men would unlikely make in Jewish and Greco-Roman culture.[1] These sons may have also reasoned that a mother’s plea might just tug at Jesus’ heartstrings all the more. Further, it is believed that James and John’s mother, Salome, is the sister of Mary, the mother of Jesus, making the Zebedee boys first cousins to Jesus.[2] With this added dimension, one could argue that nepotism further legitimizes this request on one side but exacerbates the indignation to this request in the other disciples on the flip side.
 
As this mother falls to her knees in a posture of reverence, she requests Jesus to elevate her sons to the most prominent seats, one on the right and one on the left of Jesus in his kingdom. In eastern kingdoms of antiquity the highest places of honor was customarily at the right hand and the left hand of the king.[3] Nolland suggests Matthew has an intended double meaning bringing to mind the thieves who are at Jesus’ right and left as he hangs on the cross (27:38).[4]
 
Confusion About the Kingdom
Jesus’ previous discussion with the twelve about the Son of Man being seated on his throne and “you who have followed me will also sit on the twelve thrones . . .” (19:28) is what likely causes confusion over the nature of Jesus’ kingdom and prompts this petition. Matthew invites the reader to link the conductive hinge “then” to the preceding passion prediction in verses 17–19 with the request made in verse 20. Three times Jesus foretells his death and resurrection in Matthew (16:21; 17:22–23; 20:17:19).[5] Despite all the teaching the disciples received about Jesus’ mission and the coming kingdom, they still fail to understand that the kingdom meant something far differently than what they expected. “Who would ask for places of honor in such a kingdom? Who could ask for places of honor in it? To ask the question is to show that one has not understood what the kingdom is; it is impossible to seek greatness for oneself in it.”[6] The disciples’ expectation that Jesus would overthrow Roman oppression and establish a physical kingdom on earth was so entirely antithetical to Jesus’ allusions of a suffering servant foreshadowed in Isaiah 53. This expectation perpetuated their inability to grasp the reality of what Jesus foretold, that this kingdom was more about lowliness, sacrifice, and rejection.
 
Jesus Explains the Nature of His Kingdom
Jesus begins to deconstruct their grave misunderstanding with a question. “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?” (v22). “Cup” is an Old Testament metaphor commonly associated with suffering and God’s wrath (Isaiah 51:17).[7] Matthew’s Gospel along with the other Gospels also connect the “cup” to suffering in the coming Passion “Let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want” (Mt 26:39; cf. Mark 14:36; Luke 22:42; John 18:11). James and John would have understood the meaning of the word cup used in this context, but based on their affirmative response “we can,” they don’t understand the meaning of the question.  Nolland suggests these disciples “recognized the need to make sacrifices in order to reach the desired goals. This is probably how they wanted to understand Jesus’ Passion prediction: as a highly metaphorical way of speaking about a hard struggle before success.”[8] Jesus assures both James and John that they will indeed suffer for their faith, but decisions about what positions they will hold and places of honor are relegated only to the authority of his Father.  During Jesus’ incarnation, “the Son of God remained functionally subordinate to the Father, despite their equality in essence.”[9] We learn that all authority was given to Christ after his resurrection (Matt 28:18).
 
Jealously Within the Ranks
There is nothing new under the sun, and this includes our inclination toward sin, specifically pride. “When the ten heard about this [John and James’ petition], they were indignant with the two brothers” (v. 24). Although it can be argued that the disciples’ indignation mirrors Jesus’ concern, however this is more likely a case of sibling rivalry or regret they didn’t think of it first! This isn’t the first time the disciples squabble about who will be the greatest. It’s hard to imagine that the very disciples we have grown to love and respect harbored a little bit of self-centered pride. They argued amongst themselves about who was the greatest on numerous occasions (Matt 18:1–5; Mark 9:33–37; Luke 9:46–48). Who wouldn’t be a bit puffed up? After all, these men walked alongside the Messiah, God himself. So it isn’t that hard to fathom that there was some jealousy within the ranks. In fact, Keener points out that competition for status among peers was important in their culture.[10]
 
It Boils Down to Humble Servanthood
After Jesus explains the tyranny of worldly rulership and power, he abruptly transitions to his followers and explains, “It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave” (20:26–27). Jesus is clear, the one who wills to be first will be your slave. Jesus could not have used a more graphic example. In the ancient world there was no one lower than a slave; the slave’s “whole life is lived in service for which he can claim neither credit nor reward”[11] How do they begin to understand? Jesus is charging them to exchange prideful desires of being great and first for humility and lowliness.
 
Once again Jesus alludes to his purpose and mission, “Just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life for many” (20:28).  The origin of the word ransom comes from the practices of warfare, the price paid to bring a prisoner of war out of captivity.[12] This foreshadows the ransom price Christ pays to set sinful captives free by his saving work on the cross! This climactic juncture denotes how a heart of humility and lowliness is displayed in Jesus’ final act of atonement. The King of Kings, the Messiah did not come to be served, but to serve. The disciples, who were vying for position, power and prominence were eventually cut down to size and did learn what true greatness is as they served and suffered for the Gospel.
 
How Do We Walk in Humble Servanthood?
How can we walk in humble servanthood living in a culture that defines greatness by fame, celebrity, status, vanity, and wealth? When our understanding of greatness is synonymous with the culture’s definition, we begin to see the world like the disciples— bickering about who is the greatest, vying for positions of status and prestige, or turning their noses up at the vulnerable.
 
Pride is interestingly tangled with our need to compare ourselves with others. C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity says it best, “Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man... It is the comparison that makes you proud: the pleasure of being above the rest.” Paul also warns about pride and comparison, “Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else” (Gal 6:4).
 
 How does comparing ourselves with others produce a haughty and prideful spirit? In one way, we think of ourselves better than others. We look down on others because we have a—better marriage, better friends, better house, better kids, better job, better education, better physique, etc. This type of comparison produces arrogance, condescension, it is the epitome of pride. We treat those beneath us as inferior or second class. We may surround ourselves with people “under us” only to elevate our sense of worth.  Former world heavyweight boxing champ, Muhammad Ali, was known for often bragging, “I’m the greatest.” Just before take-off on an airline flight, the stewardess reminded Ali to fasten his seatbelt. “Superman don’t need no seatbelt,” Ali told her. The stewardess retorted, “Superman don’t need no airplane, either.” Ali fastened his seatbelt.[13]
 
When we compare ourselves to others and believe them to be better than us we fall to another form of pride, inverted pride. We are riddled with insecurity and fear that we will never measure up. We become avoidant of the very people who might expose our inadequacies. If they know the real me, they may reject me. Research suggests that the inundation of social media has contributed to young people feeling anxiety, depression and worries about body image.[14] No matter which direction our comparisons go, pride is when we think too highly or too lowly of ourselves—either way our attention is on ourselves. Whether we look down on others or on ourselvesit is still pride. Our eyes should be fixed in one direction and that is on Jesus (Hebrews 12:2).We would do well to heed the warning of Proverbs, “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall” (Proverbs 16:8).
 
Humility is not thinking less of ourselves, it’s thinking of ourselves less. Jesus has given countless illustrations of what humility looks like.  How disappointing it must have been as Jesus poured faithfully into his disciples over the years, teaching them, guiding them, showing them compassion, servanthood and mercy— but they miss it. How often do we miss the heart of Jesus’ teaching? How often do we fail to understand how Jesus wants us to live and serve with humility, mercy, and compassion? God tells Isaiah, “These are the ones I look on with favor: those who are humble and contrite in spirit, and who tremble at my word, declares the LORD” (Isa 66:2) Jesus is not repudiating greatness, He is redefining it. To descend into greatness is to live a life by doing “nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than ourselves” (Phil 2:3). Jesus demonstrates the essence of humility and greatness as he stoops down to wash the feet of his disciples. This is true greatness in the Kingdom of God.

[1] Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of Matthew: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009). Examples in Luke 18:2–5; 2 Sam 14:1–21; 20:16–22; 1 Kings 1:11–16; 2:17. John Nolland also notes that one way a woman in a patriarchal society could exercise power was having influence over her adult sons (The Gospel of Matthew: A Commentary on the Greek Text [NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005).

[2] Leon Morris, The Gospel according to Matthew (PNTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1992). We see three references to the mother of John and James: Matthew 27:56; Mark 15:40; Mark 16:1.

[3] Josephus, Ant. vi. 11, 9 (John Peter Lange and Philip Schaff, A Commentary on the Holy Scriptures: Matthew [Bellingham, WA: Logos Bible Software, 2008).

[4] Nolland.

[5] When Jesus predicts his death and resurrection, Peter challenges Jesus by saying, “Never, Lord! This shall never happen to you” (Matt 16:21). Jesus rebukes Peter. In the next passion prediction (17:22–23), which followed the glorious transfiguration, there was no rebuttal.

[6] Morris.

[7]Craig Blomberg, Matthew (NAC 22; Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1992).

[8] Nolland.

[9] C. K. Barrett, “‘The Father Is Greater Than I’ (Jo. 14, 28): Subordinationist Christology in the New Testament,” in Neues Testament und Kirche, ed. J. Gnilka (Freiburg: Herder, 1974), 140–59. Cited in Blomberg.

[10] Verse 24. See Derrett 1973: 54; Malina 1993: 133. Cited in Keener.

[11] T. H. Robinson, The Gospel of Matthew (London, 1928), cited in Morris.

[12]Leon Morris. Ibid.

[13] Clifton Fadimon, The Little Brown Book of Anecdotes (Little: Brown), 14.

[14] https://childmind.org/article/is-social-media-use-causing-depression/.

by Donna Aust

This week in our journey through Matthew, Jesus will once again put forth children as examples for his followers, preparing us for his exchange with a rich man who is unable to enter into the kingdom of God because of his wealth (Matt 19:13–30). This story also appears in Mark’s Gospel. In this article, Donna Aust examines Mark’s telling of Jesus’ encounter with these children, in order to help us better understand the heart of discipleship.

Children in Jesus’ World

Literary documents, including the New Testament, reveal that childhood in both the Greco-Roman and Judean worlds was often viewed as a treacherous stage of life, and that a child’s social status ranked him or her among the marginalized, poor, sick, powerless, dominated, and exploited.[1]  The child was seen as being among the “least,” along with women, the poor, and the unclean. Children were easily dominated, even exploited, and were dependent on adults. Further, they were not regarded as legal persons in the Palestinian Jewish culture in which the gospel was first preached.[2]

Accordingly, Mark presents children as those who stand at the bottom of the social hierarchy. This is evidenced in Mark 10:13: “People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them.” The inference is clear: children were regarded as insignificant and bothersome. Jesus’ attitudes toward children are quite different, not only here in this text, but throughout all four Gospels. We see Jesus healing children and even bringing at least one child back from the dead—he raised Jairus’ daughter (Matt 9:18–26; Mark 5:22–43; Luke 8:41–56), cast demons out of a Gentile Syrophoenician woman’s daughter (Matt 15:21–28; Mark 7:24–30) and the son of a common man (Matt 17:14–19; Mark 9:14–28; Luke 9:37–42), and healed a royal official’s son (John 4:46–54).

Setting the Stage for Discipleship: Mark 9:36–37

Following Jesus’ second passion prediction (about which the disciples lacked understanding) and in response to the disciples’ concern for honor (Mark 9:36), Jesus points them to the one with the least amount of societal honor: a little child. Jesus hugs the child, welcomes him/her to the center of the group and utters the stunning two-part aphorism: “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me” (v. 37). In a culture where children were not legal entities, the disciples would have been shocked at this radical notion. Jesus, their teacher, identified himself with the neediest and most vulnerable.

Jesus settles his disciples’ dispute over who will be greatest by reversing the values of society and giving a new definition of greatness. He does this by welcoming someone, not of equal or higher honor, but of lower, if not the lowest, status—a child! Welcoming the lowly amounts to welcoming the one with the highest honor, God himself. Being first can only be achieved by serving others, which equates to being last. Jesus is the exemplar of servanthood and expects his followers to walk in the same manner. This idea of servant discipleship is characterized by service and identification with the disempowered, not by authority and power. It is this view that pushes a fresh understanding of Mark 10:13–16.

Let the Children Come to Me

Mark 10:13–16 reads as follows:
“[13] And they were bringing children to him that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them. [14] But when Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. [15] Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” [16] And he took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them.”

There is no change of setting between 10:12 and 10:13. Any indication that Jesus was about to leave the house where he had just concluded his teaching about divorce is lacking. Both events appear to take place in the same setting.

Verse 13 begins, “They were bringing children to him . . .” Who are “they”? Most commentators believe this would be either mothers, fathers, or perhaps older children.[3]  Okure suggests it would have most likely been women, the mothers or nannies of those little children, since men did not normally carry small children in private or public.[4]  Children in Mark’s Gospel are designated by the Greek word paidion (little child), which implies vulnerability.[5]  And why were they bringing these children to Jesus? The answer is given immediately: “In order that he might touch them.” These children might have been sick or demon possessed, and the mothers may have expected him to heal them. The text doesn’t tell us.

There can be no doubt that the disciples were having enormous difficulty assimilating Jesus’ reversal of human values. Their rebuke of the people who were bringing children to Jesus is ample evidence that the problem persisted, and it sparked Jesus’ indignation. According to Mark, “the disciples rebuked” the mothers who brought their children. The word for “rebuke” is severe, and is used elsewhere in Mark of Jesus’ attitude towards demons and unclean spirits (1:25; 3:12; 9:25), the stormy sea (4:39),[6]  and of Peter’s opposition to God’s will (8:30–33). Although Mark spoke earlier of Jesus’ anger at the leper’s doubt (1:41),[7]  verse 14 is the only passage in the Gospels where Jesus is said to be “indignant.” The Greek word used here (aganakteō) means “‘to arouse to anger,’ that is, ‘to vent oneself in expressed displeasure rather than simply brooding about it.’”[8]  Here Jesus is indignant at least and perhaps even outraged. Jesus’ displeasure reveals his compassion and his defense of the helpless, vulnerable, and powerless.

Jesus continues, “Let the little children come to me; do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these” (v. 14). This statement again reveals Jesus’ unique authority, for he unashamedly presumes to correlate the kingdom of God with himself. In coming to Jesus, the children are coming to the one in whom God’s present reign is made manifest.  In 9:36–37 the child was introduced by Jesus to illustrate status in the kingdom of God, and the specific issue raised was that of “receiving” such a child in Jesus name. Here, it is other people (the mothers) who take the initiative rather than Jesus.

This verse combines a positive exhortation (“allow the little children to come to me”) with a prohibition (“do not continue stopping them”). The reason for both is “for to such belongs the kingdom of God.” One must receive the kingdom of God as a child receives, as Edwards writes, with “no credits, no clout, no claims. A little child has absolutely nothing to bring, and whatever a child receives, he or she receives by grace on the basis of their sheer neediness rather than any merit inherent in him- or herself.”[9]

Theologian Peter Spitaler contends that Mark interlocks narrative frame and speech, embedding an ambiguous simile (to welcome God’s kingdom like a child, v. 15) within the larger context of a story (10:13–16).[10]  This enables us to interpret Jesus’ words in light of his actions: “Welcome the kingdom as one welcomes a child.”[11]  According to this view, the point of comparison illuminated by the simile is “welcoming” and not “becoming”—one cannot enter the kingdom unless one welcomes the kingdom as one would welcome a child. In contrast, the traditional interpretation, (welcoming God’s kingdom as a child welcomes it) dissociates Jesus’ words from his actions. The disciples apparently lack this spirit of receptiveness; otherwise they would not have rebuked those who came to receive the blessing from Jesus.

The passage ends with Jesus taking the little children into his arms, laying his hands on them, and blessing them (v. 16). Jesus’ actions resemble the ritual priestly blessings that were well-known in Israel, which suggested authority. This epitomizes God’s gracious reception of the vulnerable and needy by welcoming and blessing the children.

Conclusion

To receive the kingdom of God means “to become like a child,” whose lowly and humble demeanor identifies with the least in society, the marginalized, and oppressed. Furthermore, it challenges us to welcome God’s kingdom as one would welcome a child.[12]  In this double-imaging, we can receive the kingdom of God as both gift and task. Receiving the kingdom as a little child implies the welcome and blessing of Jesus for us as we recognize ourselves to be vulnerable and needy. And it also invites us to receive and embrace the vulnerable “child” in our midst. This view is consistent with the overall theme reflected in the gospels, such as we find, for example, in Matthew 25:40: “Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of mine, even the least of them, you did it to me.”

Whether it’s taking on the posture of a lowly, marginalized child and becoming the “least” of them, or following Jesus’ example, and welcoming the least of them, Jesus invites his disciples and the church today into a new reality of discipleship. When we come to him in our utter brokenness and humility, like vulnerable children, and embrace the poor, marginalized and oppressed among us, we can expect Jesus to scoop us up into his arms, lay his hands on us and bless us with his perfect love and unconditional grace! That’s what it means to receive the kingdom of God.


[1] Throughout Mark’s Gospel we learn about daughters who die (5:21) and are demon-possessed (7:25), as well as a son seized by a spirit (9:17), and children who are servants (9:35), rejected (10:13), left alone (10:29), and betrayed (13:12).
[2] Teresa Okure, “Children in Mark: A Lens for Reading Mark’s Gospel,” in Mark: Texts & Contexts, ed. Nicole Duran, Teresa Okure, and Daniel M. Patte (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2011), 130.
[3] John D. Grassmick, “Mark,” in The Bible Knowledge Commentary: An Exposition of the Scriptures, ed. John F. Walvoord and Roy B. Zuck, 2 vols. (Wheaton: Victor Books, 1985), 2:149.
[4] Okure, 137.
[5] Ibid. This word, also used in 5:39, can refer to anyone ranging from babies to preteens. Note that Luke 18:15 calls those who were brought “infants” (brephē). See Grasssmick, 2:149.
[6] While this demonstrates Jesus’ authority and power over even that which is perceived to be evil and terrifying, it also precedes Jesus confronting the fearful disciples about their lack of faith, which may have contributed to Jesus’ passionate rebuke.
[7] This is based on a reading of Mark 1:41 adopted by the NIV, but not by some other major translations, such as the ESV and KJV. While some favor the reading, “moved with pity” (Gk. splagchnistheis; Bruce M. Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, 4th ed. [New York: United Bible Societies, 1994], 65), others, rather convincingly, favor “angered” (orgisheis; R. T. France, The Gospel of Mark, NIGTC [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002], 115).
[8] James R. Edwards, The Gospel According to Mark, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 306.
[9] Edwards, 307.
[10] Peter Spitaler, “Welcoming a Child as. Metaphor for Welcoming God’s Kingdom: A Close Reading of Mark 10:13–16,” JSNT 31 (2009): 439.
[11] Okure, 138.
[12] Spitaler, 424.

by Doug Becker, Pastor of Theology

This week, in our journey together through the Gospel of Matthew, we will be entering chapter 12, which begins with accounts of two conflicts between Jesus and the Pharisees regarding Sabbath observance. In the first, Jesus defends his disciples, who are caught picking grain on the Sabbath, by citing scriptural examples that challenge the Pharisees’ assumptions, and by declaring himself to be “Lord of the Sabbath” (v. 8). In the second, he reminds us that God’s command to keep the sabbath does not negate doing good to one another. In neither of these, however, do we have a direct indication of whether or not Jesus’ followers, living in light of his cross and resurrection, are to continue to keep the sabbath. Here, I will give my understanding of the Bible’s answer to that question.

It is important to remember that Christians are not unanimous about this issue. As we will see, this was even the case in the early church under the leadership of the apostles. Regardless of where we find ourselves on the diverse spectrum of perspectives on Christians and the sabbath, we should all heed Paul’s advice to a church dealing with this very thing: “Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind” (Rom 14:5). Our opinions and practices should come from a thoughtful engagement with Scripture on this topic, rather than a desire to justify a particular lifestyle or adherence to certain church traditions.

One complicating factor is that sabbath observance is bound up in the larger discussion of what role Old Testament law is supposed to play in the life of the Christian. This is, without a doubt, one of the most difficult areas of biblical theology.[1] Nevertheless, failure to grapple with this more general question will inevitably lead to distortion when attempting to apply Old Testament commandments, such as the sabbath, to life in the kingdom of the Messiah. Before heading into this territory, we will first consider the New Testament passages that bear directly on the question of sabbath observance.

 Direct New Testament Evidence

 The natural place to begin is in the various interactions Jesus has with the Jewish leaders over sabbath observance.[2] However, these are not particularly helpful in determining whether Christians are bound to keep the sabbath, since none of them seem to address this question, either directly or indirectly. Instead, these confrontations generally concern what is and isn’t lawful to do on the sabbath, focusing instead on the misplaced moral priorities of the scribes and Pharisees and their misunderstanding of Jesus as one who is under, rather than over, the moral law of God. Nor are we helped by noting that Jesus and his disciples attended the synagogue on the Sabbath, and even observed it as a day of rest, since it does not follow from this observation that Christians must do likewise. Such an argument would be akin to maintaining that Gentile (or even half-Jewish) Christians must submit to circumcision because this is what Paul required of Timothy (Acts 16:3), or that we should offer temple sacrifices since Jesus gives this as the context in which one might remember that he has a conflict against his brother (Matt 5:23–24). What can be gleaned from these passages is the insight that Jesus presents himself as “lord of the sabbath” (Matt 12:8; Luke 6:5), elaborated further perhaps in Jesus’ teaching in John 5:19–47. Hopefully, what this implies will become clearer in the ensuing paragraphs.

 More relevant to our question is the account of the Jerusalem Council in Acts 15. Here, Paul and Barnabas are sent to Jerusalem from Antioch in order to get the apostles and elders to respond to the claim by members of the Jewish (Christian?) community that Gentile believers had to be circumcised in order to be saved (v. 1). Once in Jerusalem, it becomes evident that some Pharisees who had become believers agreed with this perspective and were insisting, not only on circumcision, but on much broader adherence to the entire “law of Moses” (v. 5), which in this cultural context most certainly included sabbath observance—something about which Pharisees were particularly meticulous. Alongside eating unclean food, ignoring the sabbath was the worst kind of covenant disloyalty conceivable.[3] The conclusion of the council, delivered by James, is essentially that the pharisaic believers were wrong, and that the only things that Gentile believers should be required to observe from the law was avoidance of “the defilement of idols,” sexual immorality, the meat of strangled animals,[4] and the consumption of blood.

 The rationale behind why these particular stipulations were chosen is not entirely clear, but the most likely explanation is that they have something to do with not offending the sensibilities of the Jewish people among whom the Gentile Christians lived and worshiped. “They were . . . the minimal requirements that would allow continued fellowship between Gentiles and scrupulous Jews (whether Christian or as yet unbelieving).”[5] It is also often frequently pointed out that these requirements bear striking similarity to the rules given for sojourners living among native Israelites in Leviticus 17:10–18:30, including the order in which the commands occur (of course, these would not have been the only laws sojourners had to keep in Israel). Another suggestion is that this amounted to the avoidance of pagan feasts.[6] Whatever the reasoning, Sabbath observance is interestingly not mentioned here, in the context where the specific question is whether or not Gentile believers are required to keep the law, and this in a cultural context in which sabbath observance was absolutely central to any worship of the God of Israel.

 Next, we turn to Romans 14:1–15:13. Here, Paul explains how we ought to navigate relationships between Christians who disagree on moral “gray areas.” For the early church, this would have been, at least, things such as the consumption of meat offered to idols, drinking alcohol, and Sabbath observance, all of which are mentioned in this text (see also 1 Corinthians 8–10, though there those in question are most likely Gentile Christians, not Jewish ones as here). In this passage, Paul contrasts the opinions of “the weak in faith” (v. 1) over against those of “the strong” (15:1). The former are those who have not yet developed maturity in their thinking with regard to the freedom we have in Christ and its proper use. The strong are those who have. It is virtually certain that Paul is identifying the “weak” here with Jewish Christians who were struggling with persistent adherence to the law of Moses, and judging those who understood that such allegiance had been superseded by Christ’s fulfillment of the law.[7] The concluding remarks in 15:8–13 are clearly aimed reaching harmony between Jews and Gentiles within the church, and Paul’s use of terms such as “common” and “unclean” in describing the weak’s position in 14:14 are lifted directly from Old Testament categories. Paul addresses issues that were common for Jews living among Gentiles—the avoidance of meat that could not be confirmed “kosher” (vv. 1–4, 6, 15, 17, 21) and wine that may have been used as libation offerings to pagan gods (vv. 17, 21).[8] This, of course, was the approach of Daniel and his friends during the exile in Babylon (Dan 1:8–16).

 In verse 5, Paul gives opinions regarding the sabbath as yet another example of such disagreements: “One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike” (v. 5). It is clear that he is referring to weekly sabbath observance, although he may have in mind other special holidays as well. Schreiner observes, “Most commentators agree that the sabbath is included here since the sabbath is the most prominent day in the Jewish calendar.”[9] Paul’s entire discussion is very insightful, but note that he does not say that those who observe the sabbath are right, and that those who “esteem all days alike” need to realize they are in sin. Rather, he presents those who do not observe it as the “stronger,” and offers advice on how not to cause division in the body of Christ over the issue.[10]

 Paul’s comments in Galatians 4:9–10 are also relevant: “But now that you have come to know God, or rather to be known by God, how can you turn back again to the weak and worthless elementary principles of the world, whose slaves you want to be once more? You observe days, and months, and seasons, and years! I am afraid I may have labored over you in vain.” As with Acts 15 and Romans 14, the cultural context—not to mention the specific heresy prominent in the Galatian churches that was specifically about requiring Christians to keep the law of Moses—place it virtually beyond question that he has weekly sabbaths in mind here.[11] One caveat to our use of this text, however, is that we should not infer from it that all Christians who feel the need to keep the sabbath are in the kind of peril described in Galatians. Rather, the problem addressed here appears to be that these things were being held out as prerequisites for salvation, or at least as warning signs that they are in danger of treating them as such. So Galatians 4 is only somewhat relevant to the matter at hand.

 This is in line with what Paul tells the Colossian church in Colossians 2:16: “Therefore let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink, or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a sabbath.” Here the reference to the seventh-day sabbath is of course even more obvious. Along with Old Testament food regulations, festivals, and new moons, the sabbath is called a “shadow” of the “substance” that has come in Christ, and those who do not realize this are not adequately understanding the fulfillment of such things that has come in Christ.[12] Lincoln comments, “That Paul without any qualification can relegate Sabbaths to shadows certainly indicates that he does not see them as binding and makes it extremely unlikely that he could have seen the Christian first day as a continuation of the Sabbath.” Commenting on all three passages in Paul, he concludes, “When Sabbath observance was not being imposed on Gentiles as necessary for full salvation and did not form part of any syncretistic teaching, Paul evidently tolerated it but regarded those who practiced it as adolescent and not yet mature in Christ.”[13]

 Given these considerations, it makes sense to note also that nowhere in the New Testament do we find any direct command for Christians to keep the sabbath, nor any hint that Jesus or the apostles view it as binding on Christians. If it were simply a matter of the command not being reiterated in the New Testament, a decent case could be made to the contrary. After all, God doesn’t need to repeat himself. However, in view of the three passages we have seen in Paul, especially Romans 14 and Colossians 2, and in view of the strange silence of the Jerusalem Council, we have reason to believe that, for the Christian, sabbath observance is optional at best.

 But What About the Ten Commandments?

 Standing against this is the very good point that sabbath observance is the fourth of the Ten Commandments. The obvious merit of this argument is that at least eight of the other commandments are regarded by Christians as ethically obligatory and are practiced as such (i.e., it is sin to break them). The exception to this would be the second—the command against carved images. Part of this, no doubt, is owing to ambiguity as to what exactly is forbidden by the second commandment. And of course, there have been some enclaves of Reformed Christians who have taken it quite seriously, while other branches within Christendom pay it wanton disregard. Nevertheless, the fact that many of us don’t really know what to do with the second commandment is no real problem for those who would argue for sabbath observance on the basis of its presence in the Ten Commandments.

 What is a problem for this view, however, is that there is no biblically sound way of singling out the Ten Commandments as somehow different from the rest of the law of Moses when it comes to its applicability to Christians. Whatever happens to the rest of the law in light of its fulfillment in Christ happens to the Ten Commandments as well. True, the Ten Commandments are given a place of prominence—they are uttered and written by God himself and are the first stipulations of the covenant, and they are cited as primary (though not ultimate) by both Jesus and Paul. But this does not obscure the fact that they are still part of the Sinai Covenant, and any attempt to single them out for special treatment is arbitrary and without biblical basis. The same is true of attempts to categorize various laws as moral, civil, and ceremonial and to uphold or discard them by virtue of their placement under this schema.[14] Both approaches impose categories that the text itself does not make and are therefore probably incorrect.

 We should also note that anyone practicing sabbath observance on the basis of its presence in the Ten Commandments ought to be doing so on Saturday. Exodus 20:9–11 explicitly focuses the command to rest on the “seventh day.” There is no indication in the New Testament that a shift has taken the place, moving the day of rest to Sunday, occasional references to “the Lord’s Day” and to Christians gathering “on the first day of the week” notwithstanding (Acts 20:7; 1 Cor 16:12; Rev 1:10). Keeping the Sabbath, in the strict biblical sense, means resting from one’s work on Saturday.

 Two similar arguments in favor of sabbath observance for Christians are likewise problematic. The first of these is an appeal to the sabbath as a creation ordinance. Creation ordinances are institutions established by God at creation, prior to mankind’s fall into sin, and are therefore applicable to all humanity. Most prominent among these are the sanctity of both work and marriage. It is argued that God’s rest on and consecration of the seventh day in Genesis 2:1–3 represents the establishment of the sabbath as yet another creation ordinance. Indeed, in Exodus 20, when it is given as the fourth commandment, verse 11 explicitly patterns sabbath rest after God’s rest in creation.[15] The merit of this argument is that it sidesteps the issue of Christ’s fulfillment of the law, since even if the entire law of Moses were abrogated, the creation ordinances still remain.[16]

 However, whether or not the sabbath is a creation ordinance is not as obvious as some think. Any appeal to the seventh day in Genesis 2:1–3 must also acknowledge that there is no indication in the text itself that God intends his act of seventh-day rest to be extended to mankind, especially with the force of a morally-binding command. On the face of it, then, the claim that this passage makes the sabbath a creation ordinance seems clearly an example of eisegesis—reading into the text what is not actually said in an effort to get it to say more than it does. Rather, our intent should be exegesis—reading out of the text what the author intended to communicate. Moreover, aside from the most general statements about Abraham’s obedience to God’s “commandments” (e.g., Gen 26:5), nowhere are we told about sabbath observance until it is established in Exodus 16. In fact, Ezekiel 20:11–12 seems to say (or at least strongly imply) this very thing.[17] Our intent should be to ground our theology in Scripture, not in assumptions designed to bolster predetermined conclusions, especially with respect to doctrines that are nowhere taught in the Bible. For this reason, I find attempts to categorize the sabbath as a creation ordinance less than convincing.[18]

 One further argument in favor of sabbath observance for Christians also deserves mention. Exodus 31:16 calls the sabbath “a covenant forever” (or “an eternal covenant”). Does not this language testify to the enduring nature of the sabbath commandment for all people at all times? Probably not. The Hebrew word translated in the ESV as “forever” need not imply that something extends literally into eternity (although sometimes it can). There are many clear examples in the Old Testament where the word simply means “a long time,” “a duration” (Exod 21:6; Deut 15:17; 1 Sam 1:22; 27:12; Isa 51:6) or “in perpetuity” (e.g., Exod 21:6; Isa 42:14; Jer 2:20).[19] This point is actually clearest when we consider two other things that are called “a covenant forever” (Heb. berît ʿôlām): circumcision (Gen 17:13) and the bread of presence in the tabernacle/temple (Lev 24:8). While it is true that this designation does sometimes mean something that literally last or endures “forever,” such as the rainbow as the sign of the covenant of Noah (Gen 9:16), both the bread of the presence and circumcision demonstrate beyond question that the phrase does not conclusively prove that God will never set such institutions aside. This is even clearer when we expand the examples to include things that are called “statutes forever” (Heb. ḥuqqat/ḥōq ʿôlām), a more common expression than “covenant forever.” Just to give examples from the book of Exodus alone: the Passover (Exod 12:14, 17, 24), the priestly vestments (Exod 28:43; 29:9), the priests’ possession of the wave offering’s thigh (Exod 29:28), and the priests’ washing as part of their service (Exod 30:21). For this reason, I would suggest that the phrase regarding the sabbath in Exod 31:16 is better rendered by translations like the KJV, NKJV, and the NET’s “perpetual covenant,” or the NIV’s “lasting covenant,” in preference over the ESV’s “covenant forever.” Similar and even identical language is commonly used of things that have passed away with the coming of Christ.

 The Sabbath Under the Law’s Fulfillment

 Any effort to formulate a biblically-informed Christian understanding of Old Testament laws, the sabbath included, must take seriously statements such as those we find in the following texts:
 Romans 6:14: “You are not under law but under grace.”

 Romans 7:4: “Likewise, my brothers, you also have died to the law through the body of Christ, so that you may belong to another, to him who has been raised from the dead, in order that we may bear fruit for God.”

 Romans 10:4: “Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes.”

 Galatians 2:19: “For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God.”

 Examples could be multiplied. Clearly, the New Testament perspective, enunciated time and time again, is that Christians are not “under the law,” but “under grace.”

 What then, is the ethical standard for the Christian? Does being under grace mean that there is no longer such a thing as sin for the believer in Jesus? Clearly the answer is no, for there are many things commanded of us in the New Testament, and several passages explicitly deny this (e.g., Rom 3:8; 6:1–2). It is helpful to consider Paul’s perspective, which he reveals in 1 Corinthians 9:20–21: “To those under the law I became as one under the law (though not being myself under the law) that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (not being outside the law of God but under the law of Christ) that I might win those outside the law.”

 Several features of this passage are very helpful. First, notice how Paul reiterates that he is not “under the law,” which clearly refers to the law of Moses. In other words, we are no longer under the jurisdiction of the covenant of Moses, for which the Sabbath functioned as its sign. As already noted, this would include the Ten Commandments. Second, when Paul says that he “became as one outside the law to those outside the law,” he immediately clarifies that this does not mean that he engaged in sin. After all, for Paul, “neither circumcision counts for anything, nor uncircumcision, but keeping the commandments of God” (1 Cor 7:19).[20] Rather, he says that he is under the authority of another law, which he here calls “the law of Christ.”

 When Jesus was asked about the “greatest commandment,” he listed two, which are inextricably linked (1 John 4:20): “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. . . . And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments, depend all the Law and the Prophets” (Matt 22:37–39). That last statement is very important. There is a sense in which all that is contained in the law of Moses and in the Prophets is summed up by the ethic of love towards God and love towards one another. This is reiterated by Paul who says, in Rom 13:8–10:

 “Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. For the commandments, ‘You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not covet,’ and any other commandment, are summed up in this word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.”

 It is interesting to note that the Ten Commandments are essentially structured to reflect this two-pronged approach. The first four deal with our love for God, and the final six deal with our love for other people (although there is also overlap, e.g., allowing servants to keep the Sabbath is loving towards servants).

 It is important to remember that the New Testament holds the Old Testament law in extremely high regard. Jesus did not come to abolish it, but to fulfill it (Matt 5:17–20). “The law is holy, and the commandment is holy and righteous and good” (Rom 7:12). The law of Moses is an expression of God’s will on a wide range of topics. However, it does this within a context that differs significantly from the sphere in which the Christian lives. There are serious cultural differences between the thirteenth century BC and the first century AD, to say nothing about the twenty-first century AD. There are political differences between an Israelite theocracy and other forms of government—the Roman Republic, pagan monarchies, communist regimes, and yes, even democratic republics such as our own. There are differences between an agrarian economy in which land is (supposed to be) held in perpetuity by families, clans, and tribes, compared to capitalist, socialist, and feudal societies. And, most importantly, there are significant ethical shifts that have taken place in light of Christ’s fulfillment of the law—his ushering in of its ultimate purpose and inauguration of all to which it prophetically pointed. This includes the making of all foods clean (Mark 7:19, Acts 10), the accomplishment of final and perfect atonement, and the bringing about of realities of which the law was but a shadow.

 The law of Moses can be mined for God’s will on a variety of matters. A good example of this would be 1 Corinthians 9:9–12, where Paul applies Deuteronomy 25:4—“You shall not muzzle and ox when it is treading out the grain”—to the obligation churches have to provide materially for those who labor among them in the gospel (see also 1 Tim 5:18). But we must do so with wisdom, governed by the supreme “law of Christ,” which means love towards God and love towards one another. It’s not always obvious how to do this. The principles behind some laws are more obvious than others.

 Another key element of Christian ethics is that we need to be led by the Spirit, and the fruit he brings about in our lives. Romans 7:6 says, “We are released from the law, having died to that which held us captive, so we serve in the new way of the Spirit and not in the old way of the written code.” This does not mean that we no longer serve God through obedience; rather, we do it according to a new master, the Spirit of God. That is why Paul refers to Christians as those “who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit” (8:4).

 The greatest degree of clarity comes from Galatians 5. In this passage, Paul once again states that “the whole law is fulfilled in one word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself’” (v. 14). And if our aim is to “not gratify the desires of the flesh,” then we must “walk by the Spirit” (v. 16), for “if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law” (v. 18). After listing “the works of the flesh,” he then gives the “fruits of the Spirit”—those virtues that the Spirit of God creates in our hearts so that we are driven by delight in God and love for his Son, rather than merely the threat of punishment, or a desire to attain blessing through works of the law.

 When it comes to the Sabbath, then, it seems that passages like Acts 15, Romans 14, and Colossians 2 give us sufficient indicators to say that it is not ethically obligatory for Christians in the strict sense. However, when we apply the ethic of Jesus to the sabbath, I think we can say that if we have a desire to observe a day of rest, patterned after the wisdom and goodness of God, and motivated by love for God and one another, we are free to do it. (Note: this would not actually be a “sabbath” unless it is a Saturday.) But if we are not able to do so, it is not sin. Rather, sin creeps back in when we are no longer walking in love—perhaps when I have made work my idol so that I don’t trust God enough to rest. Likewise, if our desire to motivate others to observe a day of rest is because we love them and want what is best for them, then it is good to nudge them in that direction, not because God requires it of them. What he requires of them is love, and we can only discern when we are walking in love by being honest with ourselves and others.
 
   [1] For a good introduction to the various perspectives, see Greg L. Bahnsen et al., Five Views on Law and Gospel, Counterpoints: Bible and Theology (Grand Rapids: 2010).
   [2] These include the disciples picking grain (Matt 12:1–8; Mark 2:23–28; Luke 6:1–5), the healing of a man with a withered hand (Matt 12:9–14; Mark 3:1–6; Luke 6:6–11), the healing of the woman with a disabling spirit (Luke 13:10–17), the healing of the man with dropsy (Luke 14:1–6), the healing of the crippled man at the pool of Bethesda (John 5:1–17), and the healing of the blind man (John 9).
   [3] Josephus, Jewish Antiquities xi.346.
   [4] That is, animals whose blood had not been drained.
   [5] Max B. Turner, “The Sabbath, Sunday, and the Law in Luke/Acts,” in From Sabbath to Lord’s Day: A Biblical, Historical, and Theological Investigation, ed. D. A. Carson (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1982; repr., Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 1999), 117–18.
   [6] Ben Witherington III, The Acts of the Apostles: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids/Cambridge: Eerdmans; Carlisle: Paternoster, 1998), 461–64.
   [7] Douglas J. Moo, The Epistle to the Romans, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 828–32; Thomas R. Schreiner, Romans, BECNT 6 (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1998), 708–10; Dunn even suggests that Jewish butchery may have been eradicated in order to aid the decree of Claudius in AD 49, in which many Jews were expelled from Rome (see Acts 18:2; James D. G. Dunn, Romans 9–16, WBC [Dallas: Word, 1988], 801).
   [8] The issue cannot be that these Jews were making these things prerequisites for salvation, since here he urges peace between the two factions, rather than declaring the weak’s position to be an anathema false gospel, such as he does in Galatians.
   [9] Thomas R. Schreiner, Paul: Apostle of God’s Glory in Christ (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2001), 322. Examples of “most scholars” would include Moo, 842; Dunn, 804–6; C.K. Barrett, The Epistle to the Romans, rev. ed., BNTC (London: Continuum, 1991), 238–39; Colin G. Kruse, Paul’s Letter to the Romans, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 515; D. R. de Lacey, “The Sabbath/Sunday Question and the Law in the Pauline Corpus,” in Carson, From Sabbath to Lord’s Day, 182; Robert H. Mounce, Romans, NAC 27 (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1995), 252. Their reasons are not limited to the one Schreiner puts forth. See also his own commentary (Romans, 714–16).
   [10] Although he does not specifically identify the one who observes the day as “weak” and the one who does not as “strong,” as he does with the issue of meat in verse 2, we can be quite sure that this is what he means (Moo, 841–42). But even if we are unconvinced on this point, it is still true that Paul does not instruct sabbath observance.
   [11] F. F. Bruce, The Epistle to the Galatians: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982), 206; James D. G. Dunn, The Epistle to the Galatians, BNTC (London: Continuum, 1993), 227; Timothy George, Galatians, NAC 30 (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1994), 317; Douglas J. Moo, Galatians, BECNT 9 (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2013), 278.
   [12] Douglas J. Moo, The Letters to the Colossians and to Philemon, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 222.
   [13] Andrew T. Lincoln, “From Sabbath to Lord’s Day: A Biblical and Theological Perspective,” in Carson, From Sabbath to Lord’s Day, 368.
   [14] See Christopher J. H. Wright, “The Ethical Authority of the Old Testament: A Survey of Approaches: Part I,” TynBul 43.1 (1992): 101–20; and idem, “The Ethical Authority of the Old Testament: A Survey of Approaches: Part II,” TynBul 43.2 (1992): 203–31.
   [15] Deuteronomy 5:15, by contrasty, grounds it in God’s deliverance of Israel from Egypt.
   [16] Such would be the logic behind laws that prohibit even non-Christian businesses from operating on Sundays.
   [17] Paul K. Jewett, The Lord’s Day: A Theological Guide to the Christian Day of Worship (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1971), 16.
   [18] Some further arguments can be found in David T. Williams, “The Sabbath: Mark of Distinction,” Themelios 14, no. 3 (1989): 97–98.
   [19] David J. A. Clines, ed., The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew, vol. 6 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2008), 301; Ludwig Koehler et al., The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 2: 798–799.
   [20] While it could be argued that “commandments of God” is a reference to the law of Moses, and thus to the Sabbath law, this is unlikely, given Paul’s broader teaching on the relevance of the law for the Christian life. Further, understanding the phrase as referring to the law of Moses would turn the verse into a tangled ball of nonsense, since circumcision is certainly commanded as part of “the law.” Rather, “the commandments of God” refer to Paul’s instructions to his churches, as we can see in 14:37: “What I am writing to you is the Lord’s command.” See Roy E. Ciampa and Brian S. Rosner, The First Letter to the Corinthians, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 313.

by Doug Becker, Pastor of Theology

This week, we will begin studying Hebrews 11 in our community groups. This is a chapter that is all about faith, which is literally at the center of all we do and think as Christians. As we read in verse 6, “Without faith it is impossible to please God.” And yet, many Christians are in the dark about what faith actually is. I would like to offer the following brief comments to put us on the right track, elaborating a bit on some of the things Ryan mentioned in his message this Sunday on Hebrews 11:1–3. After all, it would be quite regrettable if, after ten weeks spent in the “Great Hall of Faith,” our understanding of this important topic remains in error.

Many people today would define faith as belief in something for which there is no evidence. This would include beliefs about God, a supernatural reality, or even the spiritual nature of humanity (like souls or an afterlife). Whatever these beliefs may be, they are beyond our powers of observation and reason and cannot be proved one way or another, so they must be accepted on faith. Under this definition, faith is a belief-producing mechanism—it enables you to believe something. Faith kicks in when you have no other reason to believe. Faith and reason, then, are mutually exclusive; the more reasons you have for believing something, the less faith you need. If you have evidence for a particular belief, then you do not need faith. And if you have faith, you do not need evidence. All faith is blind faith. As Mark Twain erroneously scoffed, “Faith is believing what you know ain’t so.”[1]

Unfortunately, many Christians have adopted this definition of faith without realizing that it is nothing more than a product of our culture. In some circles, faith without reason has become a virtue, whereas those who pursue evidence for their beliefs are sometimes viewed, almost by definition, as less spiritual. We must be on guard against this, lest our very conception of faith be shaped, ironically, by the unbelieving world.

Consider the examples given in Hebrews 11. For some, we know so little about them that we can’t say anything about why they believed. Such is the case, for example, with the first two—Abel and Enoch. Others, however, clearly do not fit the definition of faith as belief without evidence. Noah and Abraham received direct, verbal revelation from God. In Noah’s case, this was discernable enough to allow him to follow specific instructions regarding the size of the ark, why he needed to build it, and the number of animals to be taken aboard. For Abraham, it directed him to the land of promise. God appeared to Moses in a burning bush, did many powerful signs by his hand, and manifested himself visibly atop Mount Sinai, as the Hebrew people, encamped at the foot of the mountain, looked on in fear and trembling. The next generation marched "by faith" around Jericho for seven days, but only after God stopped the waters of the Jordan river. God spoke audibly to Samuel so clearly that Samuel initially mistook it for the voice of the high priest. Gideon received the sign of the fleece. Samson was endowed with supernatural strength. At the very least, we must admit that it is hard to square the testimonies of these men with the common modern (mis)understanding of faith.

The dissonance is even greater when we consider the twelve apostles. These men walked with Jesus for at least three years of his earthly ministry and witnessed signs and wonders that we can only long to see—water turned into wine, lepers cleansed, the lame made to walk, the blind given sight, and even the dead revived. Peter walked on water! To top everything, Jesus was with them for forty days after he had been raised from the dead. This is part of what it meant to an apostle—they were men who “witnessed” Jesus’ resurrection (Acts 2:22; 10:41; 13:31; 1 Cor 9:1). Moreover, Jesus seems to have been particularly concerned to provide them with evidence that he had been physically raised to life by the Father (Acts 1:3; Luke 24:38; John 20:19–29). Paul, when confronting the Corinthian skepticism towards the resurrection, appealed to the fact that Jesus had appeared to over 500 eyewitnesses (1 Cor 15:6).

Now, I think we can all agree that the apostles were men of faith. After all, faith in Jesus is the response to the gospel message that results in us being saved from our sin. If that is true, then the modern definition of faith cannot be what the Bible means when it speaks of faith, because if faith is, by definition, belief without evidence, then the apostles had less faith than anyone. No one has more evidence for the truth of the gospel than they had!

In order to grasp the biblical definition of faith, it is helpful to note that our English Bibles render the same Greek word (pistis) as either “trust,” “belief,” or “faith.”[2] While this makes for more readable Bibles, it leads to some confusion for us English readers, who have preconceived notions already in mind when we read the word faith. Interestingly, when we consult the standard lexicon of New Testament Greek (which tells us how the word was actually used in the first century), we see that anything approaching “belief without evidence” is conspicuously absent. Rather, we find the following definitions: The noun, pistis, means “state of believing on the basis of the reliability of the one trusted, trust, confidence, faith.”[3] So, “faith in Jesus” means “trust” or “confidence” in Jesus. Likewise, the common verb, pisteuō has four relevant definitions: (1) “to consider something to be true and therefore worthy of one’s trust, believe”; “to entrust oneself to an entity in complete confidence, believe (in), trust”; (2) “entrust”; (3) “be confident about”; (4) “think/consider possible.”[4] Again, “to believe in Jesus” means “to trust in Jesus.”

So, whenever we read about faith in our Bibles (and Hebrews 11 is one such place), we should understand that the idea being conveyed is that of trust. Or, to take Hebrews 11:1 as our cue, “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Faith is assurance; it is not the way you arrive at assurance. Faith is conviction; it’s not what you must possess in order to acquire that conviction. One person may be able to articulate good reasons for believing the truth of the gospel; another might not have the foggiest idea of what those reasons are, but believes simply because it seems right to him or her. In both cases, the intellectual steps they took (or bypassed) got them to the same place: Trust in Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of their sins and reconciliation to God. Faith may be blind, but it is not necessarily, by definition, blind. It has nothing to do with abandoning reason, or evidence, or even a scientific method. It has to do with believing something to be true, and giving yourself to that belief, regardless of how you arrived at that faith in the first place.

On a practical level, this truer, biblical definition of faith as trust is quite helpful, because it steers us away from the venomous belief that faith is simply thinking that something is true. This deficient conception of faith is what is opposed famously by James (Jas 2:14–26), and by virtually all other biblical writers as well. The question is not whether we agree with the proposition that Jesus died for our sins and was raised on the third day. “Even the demons believe—and shudder”! Rather, we must ask whether we have personally trusted in Jesus’ finished work on the cross and in the power of his resurrection.

 

[1]Mark Twain, Following the Equator, Complete,Chapter XII.

[2]Technically, there is an entire word group formed off of the same stem. In the New Testament, there is a noun (pistis), two adjectives (pistikos,pistos), two verbs (pisteuō, pistoō ), and an adverb (pistōs).

[3]W.Bauer, W. F. Arndt, F. W. Gingrich, and F. W. Danker. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (3rd ed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 818. This is the second of three definitions. The other two are not directly relevant to the issue at hand. The first definition is “that which evokes trust and faith . . . faithfulness, reliability, fidelity, commitment” and the third is “that which is believed, body of faith/belief/teaching” (as in “the Christian faith”).

[4]Ibid., 816–18.

by Doug Becker, Pastor of Theology

A Summary of Hebrews 1–10

In last week’s sermon, Ryan announced that I would be writing a “summary” of Hebrews. While I have chosen to retain the label of summary (since that’s what I told him I planned on doing!), I am well aware that a summary is supposed to be shorter than the work it purports to summarize ;-)[1] However, I have found it necessary to be more detailed than I originally intended in order to properly capture the flow of thought through the letter of Hebrews up through the end of chapter 10. Whether we view this as a long summary or a short commentary, my hope and prayer is that this will help you better understand this important book of the New Testament, as we turn to the eleventh chapter in the next community group season.

There is more than one way to view the structure of Hebrews and to categorize its content. What follows is simply my take on it.

Introduction (1:1–4)

Unlike most of the other letters of the New Testament, Hebrews has no formal greeting. Instead, the introduction launches directly into an exaltation of Jesus. The first word that the author has for this struggling community is to remind them of the greatness of Christ. Several massive theological points are compressed here into the first four verses: Jesus is the ultimate revelation of God to us, the heir of all things, the creator of all things, the radiance of God’s glory, and the exact imprint of his nature. Jesus upholds the universe by the word his power, he has made purification for sins, and is seated at the right hand of the Majesty on high. In the very first paragraph, the case has already been settled—it is beyond foolish to abandon our hope in Christ, regardless of life’s circumstances. The rest of Hebrews makes this more explicit and fleshes it out in more detail, picking up on several of the points made here.

The argument that unfolds in the first ten chapters is based around the idea that Jesus is superior first to angels (1:1–2:18), then to Moses and his successor Joshua (3:1–4:13), and finally to the Old Testament priesthood, and the ritual legal system that it served (4:14–10:39). These are punctuated by several passages that warn against falling away and exhort us to instead hold fast the confession of our faith in Christ.

Jesus is Better than Angels (1:1–2:18)

In the Bible, God’s angels (which might better be translated “messengers” in both the Old and New Testaments) are depicted in various ways, ranging from apparently ordinary humans (Genesis 18–19) to extraordinarily formidable and magnificent beings whose appearance can at times lead people to believe they are seeing God himself (Isa 6:2–4; Eze 1:4–25; Rev 19:10; 22:8–9).[2] Yet all these are but ministers, servants of the Lord (Heb 1:7, 14; Ps 104:4). Jesus, however, as God’s Messiah, is his Son (Heb 1:5–13; Ps 2:7; 2 Sam 7:14; Deut 32:42; Ps 45:6–7).[3] By the first century, it was commonly acknowledged that the Law of Moses had been given to Israel via angelic mediation.[4] If willful disregard for the Old Covenant, which was mediated by angels, carried heavy consequences (which the Jewish people, historically, knew all too well), how much more seriously should we regard the New Covenant, mediated by the Son of God himself, and authenticated by apostolic signs and wonders (2:1–4)?

In 2:5–18, the argument turns from Jesus’ divinity and his messiahship to his humanity. Citing Psalm 8:4–6, the author reminds us that creation itself is subject to mankind (cf. Gen 1:26), which is only “for a little while lower than the angels."[5] Yet as important as angels are to God’s work in the world, they are not the ones given dominion in God’s name over creation; that honor goes to mankind. If this is true of all mankind, it is even more true for Jesus, who is not only God of very God, but the ultimate human as well—the “son of man” par excellence (v. 6; cf. Dan 7:13–14; Matt 24:30–31; 26:64). And if creation is subject to mankind imperfectly, what then shall we say of the one to whom it is subject by means of his indisputable lordship, even though, at present, “we do not yet see everything in subjection to him” (Heb 2:8; cf. 1 Cor 15:20–28)? When Jesus took on flesh, he was voluntarily made “lower” than them, “so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone," but even now he is Lord of all (Heb 2:9).

The second reason Jesus’ humanity is significant is that it allows him to serve as a perfect high priest for us—a theme that will be revisited later in chapters 5–10.[6] Christ’s human nature makes him one of us, our “brother” (2:12), enabling him to die on our behalf. “He had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of his people” (2:17). The significance of Hebrews 2:14–18 is captured by the oft-cited words of Gregory of Nazianzus: “That which he has not assumed he has not healed.”[7]

Jesus Is Better than Moses (and Joshua) (3:1–4:13)

In keeping with the strategy of combating sin and apostasy by maintaining a high view of Christ, the exhortation to “consider Jesus” in 3:1 propels us into a comparison with Moses, whose stature looms prominently in the biblical storyline, as the one through whom God led the Israelites out of Egypt and gave them his law. Moses enjoyed such close fellowship with the Lord that Exodus 33:11 tells us, “The LORD used to speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend.” The essential point is given in 3:1–6, and is very similar to the point made with respect to angels in chapter 1: Like the angels, Moses is a “servant” in God’s house, and Jesus is superior to Moses in this house because, as we saw with the angels, he is God’s Son, and a son is greater than a servant (3:5–6; cf. 1:5–8, 14). Then, he adds, “we are his house”—that is, we are the house that is the people of God—“if indeed we hold fast our confidence and our boasting in our hope” (3:6). In other words, our present status as belonging to the people of God depends on our future perseverance. The tragic obverse is also true: If we do not continue to hold fast our hope in Christ, we are not, at present, his house. (More will be said about this issue of perseverance in my next post.)

Whereas Moses led God’s people during and immediately following the exodus from Egypt, so Jesus leads us as God’s people now. The idea of a time in the wilderness that follows salvation but precedes "rest" important in the Bible, and becomes a metaphor for the Christian life, where we have been delivered from sin and await God’s ultimate consummation of all things (see, e.g., Rev 12:14). Simply being in the wilderness doesn’t guarantee our entrance into the true “Promised Land,” any more than coming out of Egypt guaranteed the Israelites rest in Canaan.[8] In the case of the Israelites who left Egypt under Moses’ leadership, their hardness of heart eventually resulted in them being forbidden to enter the land (3:7–11; Num 14:26–35). And so, Psalm 95:7–11 is cited as a warning for us not to follow in their footsteps. Instead, we are to guard against “evil, unbelieving hearts,” and “exhort one another every day, as long as it is called ‘today,’” lest we “be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin” (3:12–13). We must realize that it was finally a lack of faith that led to their downfall (4:1–2).

The author of Hebrews then turns, in 4:3–10, to consider the wording of Psalm 95, which he has just cited in 3:7–11. This Psalm looks back hundreds of years earlier to the example of the Israelites under Moses, and warns that future generations of Israelites would likewise not enter God’s rest if they harden their hearts as their forefathers did. And yet, for that earlier generation, the “rest” that was promised was peaceful life in the Promised Land of Canaan (e.g., Deut 12:10). How then could the Psalmist’s generation fail to enter into God’s rest, if they already enjoyed that life, following the entry into the land under Joshua centuries earlier? Does not the very wording of Psalm 95 presuppose that there is still a rest to come—a rest that future generations of Israelites living in the land can still fail to have if they harden their hearts? Further, shouldn’t true rest somewhat resemble the kind of rest that God experienced on the seventh day, when he “rested from all his works”? (Heb 4:4). On the basis of these hanging questions, the author concludes, “So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God, for whoever has entered God’s rest has also rested from his works as God did from his” (4:9–10).[9] We are then exhorted to strive to enter into this final rest of God, especially in view of clarity with which God sees our hearts (4:11–13).

Hebrews is now prepared to transition into its most extensive comparison—between Christ and the Old Testament priesthood. The transition into this topic occurs in 4:14–16. Here our attention is drawn back to Christ, who was established as our priest at the end of chapter 3. It is because of Jesus’ priestly activity on our behalf that we can “draw near to the throne of grace,” where we can experience both God’s mercy for our failings, and grace to help us through temptation (4:16).

Jesus Is Better than the Old Testament Priesthood (4:14–10:39)

A number of the arguments in this section are deployed in order demonstrate the legitimacy of Jesus’ high priesthood on our behalf (Heb 2:17; 3:1; 4:14–16). This makes sense in the context of Hebrews, because the author is at pains to remind his audience that Jesus has secured “purification for sins” (1:3) far beyond what was possible under the Old Covenant. Indeed, “he has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself” (9:26). So complete is his work on the cross that his death is a “once for all” act, after which no further act of atonement is either necessary or valid (7:27; 9:12, 26; 8:13; 10:10). However, there is a major theological roadblock that needs to be cleared in order to show how it is possible for Jesus to serve in this role. This is because, in the Old Testament, only descendants of Aaron (of the tribe of Levi) are allowed to serve as priests (Exod 27:21; 29:9, 29; 32:29; Num 18:7). But Jesus, as the messianic descendant of David, is of the tribe of Judah. The problem is stated succinctly in Hebrews 7:13–14: “For the one of whom these things are spoken belonged to another tribe, from which no one has ever served at the altar. For it is evident that our Lord was descended from Judah, and in connection with that tribe Moses said nothing about priests.” Because the author spends so much time on this, it is possible that he is responding to a specific objection about Jesus’ legitimacy as a priest, coming either from outside or from within the community of believers to whom he writes. The last thing people struggling in their faith need is to be told that their Savior cannot save because God does not accept him as their priest.

In order to answer this issue, the author calls to mind two Psalms, both of which speak to the kings in the royal succession line of David (Heb 5:5–6). The first of these is Psalm 2:7, which is used to remind us of God’s enduring promises to David’s progeny. The second is Psalm 110:4, where David says, of himself, “The LORD has sworn and will not change his mind, ‘You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.’” The significance of Melchizedek will be explored further in chapter 7, but for now, it is sufficient to know that he is a mysterious character who appears briefly only in Genesis 14, and he is both a priest and a king. By proclaiming David a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek, God is acknowledging the legitimacy of a priesthood other the Levitical one, to which the kingly Son of David belongs. And Jesus is not a priest in name only, but one who firmly trusted in the Father during his own suffering (5:7–10).

The rest of chapter 5 through the end of 6 is a bit of a detour. In fact, the argument flows seamlessly from 5:10 to 7:1. It’s not entirely clear why the author chooses this place in his letter to follow an excursus. My opinion is that he knows the Melchizedek material requires some thinking to understand, and that some of his readers “have become dull of hearing” and will therefore have difficulty chewing the “solid food” that they need if they are going to truly understand why Jesus’ priesthood is legitimate. This is why he voices his concern that they are “unskilled in the word of righteousness” (5:11–14). Many of us have experienced the frustration of people who ask deep questions but are unable to do the mental work required to find answers.

And so, in 6:1–3, he encourages them to “go on to maturity,” for if they are going to follow his thought, they will need to understand more than the basics of their faith (the nature of repentance, “washings,”[10] laying on of hands, the resurrection, and judgment). Verses 4–8 transition into a warning about falling away, that there is a point at which repentance becomes impossible for those who have experienced the power of God in the Christian community and yet have still hardened their hearts and renounced Christ. Such people are like land that is supposed to produce a fruitful crop, yet yields only thorns and thistles.

However, there is good evidence that the readers have not yet reached this point—namely, the love that they have for their brothers and sisters and sisters in Christ (vv. 9–11). While love for one another is a necessary component of the Christian life, it does not necessarily translate into earnestness towards God. “Love your neighbor as yourself” cannot exist in isolation from “love the Lord your God” (Matt 22:37–39). They need to take the same earnestness that they show in their love towards people and direct it also towards the “things that belong to salvation.” Foreshadowing the content of chapter 11, this is done by becoming “imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises,” such as Abraham, who patiently waited for the promise that God had sworn to give him (6:9–18). Our hope in the promises made to us has the power to place us “behind the curtain” of the true temple that is in heaven, “where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf.” And who goes behind the “curtain”? The high priest. And so, Jesus belongs there, for he is “a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek” (vv. 19–20).

Chapter 7 makes several points about the connection between Jesus and Melchizedek. First, there are general, almost coincidental, similarities in the merely biographical information about Melchizedek. His name literally means “king of righteousness” (or “my king is righteous”), and Jesus too is a king of righteousness. Second, he is king of Salem, which in Hebrew is made up of the same consonants as šālôm—hence, “king of peace” (v. 2).[11] It is also quite likely that “Salem” in Genesis 14 is an abbreviated (hypocoristic) form of Jerusalem.[12] Second, in Genesis, where everyone important is given a genealogy, none is given for Melchizedek, making it impossible to hold that his priesthood is based on genealogical descent (v. 3; 7:15–16). A further observation (though not explicitly mentioned in Hebrews) is that he is both a priest and a king, showing that the two offices are not mutually exclusive.

The next argument (vv. 4–10) is based on the notion that, under ancient customs, tithes are paid “up.” That is, if a person gives a tenth of a sum of money (or other currency) to another person or an institution for religious or political reasons, the one who paid the sum is subservient to the one who receives it. In Genesis 14, Abraham pays a tenth of his battle spoils to Melchizedek (14:20), acknowledging the latter’s superiority.[13] Moreover, not only are recipients of tithes superior to those who pay them, but ancestors are also considered superiors to their progeny (e.g., Abraham is “father Abraham”). By virtue of these two considerations, the order of submission is as follows:

Melchizedek
Abraham
Levi
Levitical Priests

By this line of thought, the Levitical priests who serve at the Jerusalem temple in the first century are at least three steps lower than Melchizedek. Therefore, the priestly line to which Jesus, the Son of David, belongs is superior to that of the Levitical priests.[14]

Third, in verses 11–19, the author ponders the reason why Psalm 110:4 would need to be spoken in the first place. Recall that this is the verse where God says, “The LORD has sworn and will not change his mind: ‘You are a priest forever, after the order of Melchizedek.’” The point is simple: If the Levitical priesthood (for which the original readers were considering abandoning Christ) was sufficient, why would God announce another priesthood? And because, in the Old Testament, the Levitical priesthood is a part of the law of Moses—indeed, it’s one of the main things that makes communion with God possible under the law—the insufficiency of their priestly ministry calls into question the entire sufficiency of the law itself, at least, in terms of its ability to provide access to God.

Fourth, we should note that God’s declaration to David in Psalm 110:4 is presented as an oath: “The LORD has sworn and will not change his mind.” No such oath was made when Aaron’s descendants were appointed to be Israel’s priests. This calls to mind what the author had said earlier about God’s oath sworn to Abraham (Gen 22:16), that when God swears an oath, there are two unshakeable pillars upon which our assurance of his promise rests: (1) The promise itself, since God cannot lie, and (2) the oath (Heb 6:17–18). And so, however firmly established the priesthood of Levi was by virtue of its being given in the law, Melchizedek’s is even more so because it has the added assurance of God’s oath.

The fifth and final way in which Jesus’ Melchizedekian priesthood fits him to serve as our high priest is fairly simple (7:23–25). Psalm 110:4 says that David’s Son is a “priest forever.” The consequence of this cannot be stated any better than it is in Hebrews 7:25: “He is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them.

Chapters 8 and 9 follow this up with several ways in which Jesus’ priestly ministry is superior to that of the Levitical priests (vv. 1–7). Since the earthly temple[15] is connected with the sons of Aaron, Jesus would not be a priest if he were on earth. But he is not on earth; he is in heaven, seated at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in heaven (8:1; 1:3), and the “tent” (i.e., tabernacle or temple) in which he serves is the “true” one built by God himself.[16] The earthly one is but a “copy and shadow of the heavenly things” (v. 5). And the reason why a greater priestly ministry is needed is evident: “The covenant he mediates is better, since it is enacted on better promises.” The promises the author has in mind are found in the announcement of the New Covenant in Jeremiah 31:31–34, which he proceeds to quote in its entirety (for the New Covenant, see, outside of Hebrews, Luke 22:20, 1 Cor 11:25, and 2 Cor 3:6). Among the promises encapsulated in this all-important text are the inscribing of the law on the hearts of God's people, fellowship with God, a covenant people made up only of those who “know the Lord,” and, lastly, the basis upon which all these are made possible: “I will be merciful toward their iniquities, and I will remember their sins no more.”

In 8:7–8 and 13, a point is made that is reminiscent of what 7:11–19 said about Psalm 110:4. The author reasons that the very announcement of a new covenant implies that the old one is inadequate. There is something that God wanted to do that couldn’t be accomplished under the Old Covenant and required him to announce a new one. It was inevitable that the Old Covenant would become obsolete and would give way to something better.

The shortcomings of the Old Covenant are then described in chapter 9 in terms of its ritual legislation—that is, the sacrificial system and the laws that maintained the holiness of both the people and the sanctuary. At its core, the author sees two main problems. First, access to the holy of holies, the inner sanctuary in which God dwelled, was severely restricted; only the high priest was allowed to enter there, “and he but once a year” (v. 7) on the Day of Atonements (Leviticus 16). Second, the sacrifices that were offered in order to deal with the people’s sin temporarily purified “the body” of the worshiper (Heb 9:10), but could not cleanse the conscience. That is, they made it technically appropriate for a sinful human being to participate in holy activities (such as the eating of sacrifices) and to enter into holy places, but did nothing to deal with the objective guilt for our sin that makes it impossible for us to dwell with God (and him with us, vv. 1–10).

Christ’s sacrifice is far more powerful, even though the temple in which he serves is greater, in heaven itself. It did not have to be offered annually, but was “once for all” (v. 12), because it is the body of the Son of God himself and not of mere goats and calves, unblemished though they were. His blood truly has the power to cleanse the conscience (vv. 11–15).

Hebrews 9:16–17 is a challenging passage interpretively, so I will restrict my comments, for those who are interested, to the following footnote:[17]. The basic idea expressed in these verses is the necessity of sacrifice in a covenant ceremony; without the shedding of blood, a covenant cannot take effect. We see this, not only in the covenant ritual mentioned in verses 19–21, but also in God’s covenants with both Noah (Genesis 8 and 9) and Abraham (Genesis 15).[18] It is even present in human to human biblical covenants, such as the one between Abraham and Abimelek in Genesis 21 and between Jacob and Laban in Genesis 31. The use of blood is also mentioned with respect to Old Testament purification rites, along with the additional comment, “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins” (v. 22).

If it was necessary to use blood in order to purify the sacred earthly temple precincts and objects, how much more so those belonging to the heavenly temple? But the blood of Christ is so powerful that its cleansing is once for all, far surpassing the blood offered by the Levitical priests, who must offer sacrifices repeatedly to cleanse the mere “copies” (vv. 23–27). So, when Jesus returns, it will not be for the purpose of “dealing with sin,” for this has already been accomplished, but rather “to save those who are eagerly waiting for him” (v. 28). The implication is clear: Are you eagerly waiting for him?

The contrast between Christ’s once for all offering of himself and the repeated ritual sacrifice of the earthly priests continues into chapter 10 (vv. 1–18). Psalm 40:6–8 is quoted, which expresses God’s preference for doing the will of God over the offering of sacrifices, the latter of which is not something in which God delights (v. 6). Yet, because of our sin, these sacrifices are necessary. And so, by abolishing the need for further sacrifice through his own death, Jesus is able to do what pleases God: the sanctification of his people and the submission of all things under Jesus’ rule (vv. 11–17).

We then enter into the most thorough and exultant exhortation in the entire book of Hebrews (10:19–25). And we got here because of all that has been covered thus far: Jesus’ superiority over angels, over Moses, and over the Old Testament priesthood. The reason we can have the kind of confidence the author has spoken of so often is because of “the new and living way” into the presence of God that our “great priest” has opened for us. The remedy for the temptations of sin, external pressure, and weariness is to “draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith,” having been purified by the cleansing that Jesus has given. We know this, not through the invention of man, but because of the promise of God. And the way be grow in confidence is by encouraging, stirring up, and strengthening one another in constant Christian fellowship.

But this does not come without a warning. Again we are reminded of the reality presented in chapter 6, that continued, willful sin and disobedience leads us to a place of unbelief where Christ’s sacrifice is no longer relevant for us. Also, as we saw in 2:1–3, the surpassing value of our new covenant means that we are even more accountable for transgressing it than those under the old. This is a terrifying prospect, and should be a cause of fear for anyone who finds themselves on the precipice of abandoning their hope in Christ. The author, who cares so much for his readers, loves them too much to candy-coat the consequences of spiritual apostasy (vv. 26–32).

As he did after his warning in chapter 6, he offers some comfort, appealing to the endurance they have already shown in the face of struggles and persecutions, citing once again, among other things, their love for fellow believers (v. 33–34; cf. 6:10). He reminds them of their former convictions that enabled them to stand up so nobly in the face of opposition. Now, they “have need of endurance,” so that they will inherit the promise. This is the time for confidence, for “we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who have faith and preserve their souls” (v. 39).

And who are these, our brothers and sisters who have gone before us? That is the subject of Hebrews chapter 11.

 

[1] While I haven’t checked, I suspect this post is still shorter than Hebrews 1–10.

[2] There is no evidence that this is written in reaction to angel worship, as might be legitimate to infer from passages like Colossians 2:18. Rather, the comparison with Jesus is instigated by their prominence as powerful spiritual entities and messengers who mediated God’s law.

[3] "Son of God” is a messianic title. That is, it is a designation that is given to the kings from the line of David who ruled over God’s people in Jerusalem (2 Sam 7:14; Pss 2:7; 89:26–27).

[4] Note the presence of the mysterious “angel of the LORD” in Exodus 3:2; 14:19, 23:20, 23:23, 32:34, 33:2, etc. This view is reflected by Stephen in Acts 7:51–53 and by Paul in Galatians 3:19, as well as the Septuagint translation of Deuteronomy 33:2 (which adds “angels were with him” to the end of the verse). It can be found outside the Bible in texts like Jubilees 1:28, Josephus Antiquities of the Jews 15.5.3, and Philo De Somniis1.140–43.

[5] Hebrews 2:7 follows the Septuagint’s wording of the verse with the Greek adjective brachus, which has a temporal meaning ("a little while") in passages like Acts 5:34 and Luke 22:58.

[6] It is in this way that 2:10 can speak of Jesus as having been made “perfect through suffering” (also 5:9). The point is not to deny Jesus’ manifold perfections, even in his pre-incarnate state, but rather that certain conditions had to be met in order for him to serve as our high priest before the Father—namely, taking on flesh and undergoing the suffering and ignominy of the cross. Peter O’Brien writes, “Christ’s being perfected is a vocational process by which he is made complete or fully equipped for his office” (The Letter to the Hebrews[PNTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010], 107).

[7] Letter 101. See Nicene- and Post-Nicene Fathers, 2d series(14 vols.; ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, Philip Schaff, and Henry Wace; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1994) 7:440.

[8] The analogy somewhat breaks down at this point. The corresponding moments of deliverance are, respectively, leaving Egypt (for the Israelites) and conversion to Christ (for Christians). For the Israelites, unbelief in the wilderness does not affect the fact that they had experienced salvation from slavery; but for professing Christians, unbelief in the “wilderness” means that salvation from sin has never actually happened. Notice, for example, the specific wording of 3:14: “We have come to share in Christ, if indeed we hold our original confidence firm to the end.”

[9]It is unlikely that “rest from works” is meant to call to mind the faith vs. works dichotomy which is so prominent in Paul (e.g., Rom 3:19–4:25). This seems to be absent in Hebrews. The comparison between faith and works of the law may be present in Hebrews in 6:1, although this too is questionable, since it is unlikely that obedience to the law of God would be referred to as “dead works” (cf. 9:14). In the immediate context, the works that we hope to rest from are akin to the “works” that God rested from on the seventh day, which clearly should not be viewed as works of the law (Heb 4:3–5, 10). This doesn’t mean that Hebrews disagrees with Paul on this point, only that faith vs. works is not a theme that is explored in this letter. C,learly the author does believe, with Paul, that it is faith in Christ alone that saves. He just uses different vocabulary to express the same idea (3:6, 12, 14; 4:3, 14, 16; 8:18; 10:23, 35, 39; chapter 11).

[10] By this, he either is referring to baptism (although the plural would be strange), or of the proper Christian perspective on Jewish ceremonial cleansings.

[11] The consonants are the same as the defective spelling, šālōm. Defective spelling means that the consonantal vowel (the mater lecionis) is omitted, or, more accurately, replaced by a vowel point.

[12] Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (5 vols.; rev. Water Baumgartner and Johann Jakob Stamm et al.; Leiden: Brill, 1994), 1539. In pre-Hebrew times, the city was pronounced similarly: rwšɜlmm in the nineteenth century BC Egyptian Execration Texts and Urušalimum in the fourteenth century Amarna letters.

[13] This also implies that Abraham, in some sense, regarded Melchizedek’s God (“God Most High,” Heb. ʾ

by Doug Becker, Pastor of Theology

Authorship, Recipients, and Why Hebrews Matters

In our next community group season, we will be studying Hebrews 11 together as a church. This is probably the most well-known chapter in the entire book of Hebrews. In it, we are reminded of many men and women from the Old Testament who demonstrated the kind of faith that we are called to have. There is great comfort and power in knowing that others have run the race before us and have remained faithful to the Lord when it was difficult, unpopular, and even dangerous.

But Hebrews 11 doesn’t exist in isolation. It’s part of a letter, written to a specific group of people in response to a specific situation. In order to get the most out of it, it is therefore necessary to be familiar with the rest of the letter, as well as the circumstances that occasioned its writing. This is the first of two blog posts which I will be writing in order to provide some help in this regard. Here, I will consider who wrote Hebrews, to whom it was written, and what its value is for us. The second post will be a summary of the flow of thought from chapters 1 through 10.

The Author

Little is known about both the author and the original recipients of Hebrews. Only very general details can be inferred from the letter itself. We know, for example, that the author was male, based on a Greek masculine participle that he uses in 11:32 to refer to himself,[1] and that he had an intimate pastoral relationship with the people to whom he wrote, as he was deeply concerned for their spiritual wellbeing. Also, in 2:3, he reveals that he received the gospel from “those who heard,” indicating that he is at least a second generation Christian and not himself one of the twelve apostles or Paul (cf. Gal 1:11–12).[2] He is clearly very well-versed in the Scriptures, as Hebrews is second only to Revelation among the New Testament books with respect to how often it quotes the Old Testament. Hebrews also boasts the most sophisticated Greek in the entire New Testament, and its writer was familiar with the rhetorical techniques of his time.[3] All these clues notwithstanding, the pool of well-educated, Scripture-saturated, pastorally-minded Christians who were associated with the apostles in the first century is simply too big for us to identify a plausible author with any reasonable degree of confidence. We should therefore be content to echo the sentiments of the third-century theologian Origen, who wrote, famously, “Who wrote the epistle, in truth God knows.”[4]

The Recipients

Hebrews is also ambiguous regarding its original recipients. It is uncertain even if they were Jewish or Gentile believers, although the writer clearly expects them to be able to follow several detailed arguments based on events, persons, and institutions from the Old Testament. This in itself proves very little, since Romans, 1 and 2 Corinthians, and Galatians also draw heavily on the Hebrew Scriptures, even though they are addressed to predominantly Gentile churches. On the other hand, a number of Jewish Christians were certainly present in this congregation, which explains why the author gives so much attention to demonstrating Jesus’ superiority over a number of things that were important in Judaism.

Despite these ambiguities, the warnings, exhortations, and encouragements that are scattered throughout Hebrews reveal a community of people who were facing serious temptations to turn away from Christ. Some time had passed since the gospel had been preached to them, and they had experienced not only the initial opposition that we read about in the book of Acts, but also the wear and tear of years of feeling like social outcasts because they had embraced Jesus as their Lord and Savior.[5] They had endured “struggles with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to reproach and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated,” as well as “the plundering of [their] property” (10:32–34).[6] In addition, warnings against having “evil, unbelieving hearts” (3:12), a “disobedience” reminiscent of the wilderness generation in Exodus and Numbers (Heb 4:6–7), “holding up [the Son of God] to contempt” (6:6), “neglecting to meet together” (10:25), and “sinning deliberately after receiving the knowledge of the truth” (10:26) suggest that at least some of them were not merely struggling as persecuted victims, but as ones who had grown dangerously comfortable with sin in their lives. Note also the brief warning against sexual immorality in 13:4. All these factors combined remind us just how relevant the message of Hebrews is to Christians throughout the ages, including our own.

Why Hebrews Matters

“All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work” (2 Tim 3:16–17). The core reason why we read our Bibles is because God uses his Word to transform our minds and to teach us how to follow Christ. Scripture is the final authority for what we believe and for how we live, and in it we hear the voice of God himself. Aside from these very important general observations, there are unique contributions to the Christian faith made by each book of the Bible.

The essential purpose of Hebrews is to persuade its readers to remain steadfast in their commitment to Christ Jesus as Lord and Savior, despite persecution, temptation from sin, and weariness. It does this by demonstrating that Jesus is superior to any alternative religious system, especially first-century Judaism, which was apparently the primary option on the table for those among the original recipients who were in danger of leaving the faith. This presents an immediate challenge for the modern reader, who might ask, “How is Hebrews relevant to my life and my walk with Christ?” After all, none of us will ever be tempted to turn to Judaism, as it existed in the first century, since it no longer exists. In what way are the appeals of this letter applicable to us? In response, I offer the following suggestions:

Treasuring Jesus Is the Answer to Temptation
The reasons why these Christians were being tempted to abandon Christ are the same ones we face. I have identified these as persecution, sin, and weariness. These were not good reasons to turn away from Jesus then, and neither are they today. Further, the pastoral instruction given in Hebrews to combat them remains true for us, namely, that our perseverance in our faith depends on what we think of Jesus. The power of any temptation rests in its ability to convince us that something else is more valuable than Christ. It follows that the most essential weapon against these temptations is for Jesus to be magnified in our hearts. When we find our satisfaction in him, we will not seek it in other things. One of the reasons Hebrews is so relevant is because it is a tour de force on the magnificence and sufficiency of Jesus, both in who he is and in what he has done for us.

You Have Need of Endurance

Hebrews is notorious for its frightening warning passages (especially those in chapters 6 and 10). These passages will be the subject of an upcoming blog post, but it is worth mentioning them here, since they make such a valuable contribution to our understanding of true, biblical faith. The author perceives that at least some of his readers are in danger of abandoning their trust in Christ, and pens this letter, at least in part, as an effort to pull them back from the brink, walking a bold line between two unhealthy extremes. One the one hand, he writes against the “easy-believism” so prevalent in many contemporary Evangelical churches, which attempts to draw assurance of salvation from a single moment of decision, made at some point in the past, without reference to continued growth and progress in the faith. On the other hand, his repeated exhortations towards “confidence” (parrēsia,3:6; 4:16; 10:19, 35), “assurance” (hupostasis,3:14; 11:1), “certainty” (plērophoria,6:11; 10:22), and related concepts with reference to a Christian’s posture towards God should caution us against unhealthy doubt about our own salvation. We can have such assurance, provided we are “holding fast” to the hope we have in Christ (3:6, 14; 4:14; 6:11, 18; 10:23).

All Scripture Is Profitable

The point I made above is that Hebrews equips us and helps us to grow by virtue of its own status as Scripture. The same is true of the rest of the Bible. Yet people often have a hard time figuring out how the Old and New Testaments fit together. Hebrews contributes greatly to a Christian understanding of the Old Testament because it makes use of it so extensively. To be sure, sometimes it takes a bit of thought to apprehend why the author says what he does about the passages he uses, but our efforts spent doing so have the potential to expand and enrich our understanding of how God has worked in history, and how this work is fulfilled in Christ. Hebrews sheds light on what it means for passages to be “messianic,” how themes such as rest and kingdom increase in significance as the biblical story moves forward, the various ways in which Jesus’ death fulfills and surpasses Old Testament ritual sacrifice, and how institutions such as the priesthood and the law anticipate Christ’s work. These are just a few examples of how familiarity with Hebrews enables us to draw strength and biblical wisdom from parts of the Bible that might otherwise go unnoticed.

Hebrews and Other Faiths

While we are not tempted by first-century Judaism (even contemporary Judaism is different), many of the religious alternatives on offer today are wrong for similar reasons as those given in Hebrews. Just to name a few examples, Jehovah’s Witnesses teach that Jesus is an angel. Chapters 1 and 2 stand in contrast to this, and show that Jesus is far superior to all angels. In Islam, Allah is depicted as a just and righteous god who punishes humans for sin and yet forgives his followers (those who submit to Islam). This, however, creates an insuperable theological problem for Islam, since Allah’s justice is compromised by his forgiveness. By way of contrast, in reality, Jesus’ offering of himself on the cross provides the basis by which God maintains his justness, despite his forgiveness of sinners, providing true cleansing from sin and access to the Father. This is detailed in chapters 5–10. Third, Hebrews confronts religious pluralism, which condescendingly demands that all religious expressions be regarded as equally valid paths to God. Indeed, the very reason Hebrews was written was to remind us that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, and that no one comes to the Father except through him (John 14:6). More examples could be cited, but the point is that the truth and necessity of Jesus' intercession for us, as presented in Hebrews, serves as its own apologetic against all man-made religion.
 

Be sure to check back in a few days as we take the next step in preparing ourselves to study Hebrews!

 

[1]The term is diēgoumenon, a present middle accusative masculine singular participle from diēgeomai, meaning, “to tell” or “to describe.”

[2]Many early Christian communities believed Paul wrote this letter. This is evident, for example, in our earliest manuscript of Hebrews, P46, in which Hebrews follows Romans. Difficulties with this view were known even by those who affirmed it (e.g., Clement of Alexandria and Origen), and in the western churches it found little acceptance. The difference in both style and themes between Hebrews and Paul’s letters have led to a virtually unanimous rejection of Pauline authorship among scholars today.

[3]This is evident from his use of rhetorical devices such as alliteration, antithesis, chiasm, inclusion, parallelism, catchword association, and “hook-words” (William L. Lane, Hebrews 1–8 [WBC 47a; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1991], lxxv–lxxx).

[4]Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 6.25.14.

[5]In its early years, the Christian church had been regarded as a branch of Judaism, worshiping the Jewish Messiah (the Christ) and meeting in synagogues and the temple. In fact, one of its earliest controversies was how uncircumcised Gentile converts could be regarded as fellow heirs of the promises to Abraham through simple faith in Christ, rather than through the observances outsiders traditionally went through in order to become Jewish proselytes (this is why controversies over circumcision are so prevalent in the New Testament). Christianity thus did not come under heavy persecution by the state as long as it enjoyed Rome’s recognition of Jewish customs, heritage, and, most importantly, their monotheism. As the two religions separated from one another, many of the protections Christianity enjoyed under the umbrella of Judaism were lost.

[6]This statement has led many to conclude that the recipients of Hebrews had been among the Jews expelled from Rome by the emperor Claudius in AD 49, an event explicitly mentioned in Acts 18:2 and the Roman historian Suetonius in his Lives of the Caesars 25.4 (120 AD). Suetonius writes, “He expelled from Rome the Jews constantly making disturbances at the instigation of Chrestus.” That Chrestus is a misspelling of “Christ” is accepted by many scholars. Although a common Roman slave name, it is unattested among first-century Jews (H. J. Leon, The Jews of Ancient Rome [Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1960], 93–121), and early Christian writers frequently complained about this very misspelling of Jesus’ title (Justin, Apology 1.4; Tertullian, Apology 3; Lactantius, Divine Institutes4.7). This scenario envisions Claudius banishing various Jewish groups, especially Christians, from Rome, due to the social upheaval created there by the preaching of the gospel. Such banishment would have presented many difficulties for the Christians affected, including the seizure of any property left behind. This hypothesis, of course, depends on the fairly popular suggestion that Hebrews was written to the Roman church, which may find support in the mention of “those from Italy” in 13:24, as well as the use of Hebrews by Clement, the bishop of Rome, in his first letter to the Corinthian church, which was written towards the end of the first century.

by Doug Becker, Pastor of Theology

Why these twenty-seven books? As a pastor, this is a question that I get quite often. If we regard the New Testament is the "final authority in faith and life," we should have good reasons for doing so. In this essay, I lay out the basis for our understanding of why these books, and these books only, belong in the collection we call the "Word of God."

A Brief Word On Councils

Before we begin, I need to quickly disavow an error that is repeated in various forms by many different people—that the twenty-seven books of the NT were not "canonized" until the church councils of the fourth century AD. The most common claim is that this was at the Council of Nicea in 325. This is simply wrong. The primary purpose of the Council of Nicea was to address the Arian controversy regarding the divinity of Christ, and also the comparatively minor issues of the date of Easter and certain points of canon law. The first official church council to rule on the books of the New and Old Testaments was the Synod of Rome in 382.

Moreover, it is erroneous to think that there was no NT canon until it was declared to be so by a church council. First, Scripture bears greater authority than any church council, so it’s not as if any council could confer such a status on the NT writings. After all, we know that the church already regarded Paul’s letters as Scripture in the first century (e.g., 2 Pet 3:16). Were these churches wrong in doing so, simply because they hadn’t been declared such by an official ecumenical council? Second, the mere fact that certain books are regarded as Scripture implies that they are canonical, for what is canon but a list of books that are regarded as Scripture? Such lists existed long before either Nicea or the Synod of Rome. And even without actual lists, any church that has books that it holds to be Scripture has a “canon.” The church councils are the wrong place to look, if we are asking when the NT books were canonized. Rather, we should ask when the books that we call the New Testament were regarded as Scripture.

The New Testament's Perspective

The place to begin is in the New Testament writings themselves, where we can already see the development of a canonical awareness—an understanding that Scripture was once again being written, and that these writings bore the same divine authority as the Old Testament.

In John 14:26 and 16:12–14, Jesus, speaking to his disciples in the upper room, tells them that they would not simply be recalling whatever they could about him and elaborating on it. Rather, they would be helped by the Spirit of God, who would teach them and help them to remember “all” that he had said to them, that they would be guided into “all truth” and into a knowledge of “the things that are to come,” and that the knowledge they would receive would be that which belongs to Jesus.

In numerous places, Paul blatantly says that his proclamation is the Word of God (1 Cor 14:37; 2 Cor 13:2–3; 1 Thess 2:13; 4:18; 2 Thess 3:6; 4:15; 2 Pet 3:1–2). Here, Paul and Peter are writing at a time when most of the apostles were still alive. Therefore, while their writings were being received as Scripture, the majority of their teaching was delivered through what they preached. And so, when they write of things such as “the Word of God which you heard from us,” “the traditions received from us,” and “the commandment . . . through your apostles,” they are speaking of the apostolic preaching, which is accurately enshrined in their written Word.

Of the passages mentioned in the previous paragraph, 1 Corinthians 14:37, 1 Thessalonians 4:8, and 2 Thessalonians 4:15 refer to the letters themselves, and not to merely oral teaching. The advantages of the written word were that it allowed them to communicate over long distances without having to travel, it gave a solid, permanent witness to what they had said, it allowed for copying and widespread distribution, and it preserved their teaching after their deaths.
Hebrews opens with an affirmation that the revelation given in Jesus Christ is at least on par with (if not in some sense superior to) that which was given in the OT (Heb 1:1–2).
First Peter 1:10–12 expresses the idea that the same spirit that inspired the prophets inspired the apostles.

There are two places in which the NT authors affirm other NT books as Scripture. The first is 1 Timothy 5:18, where Paul quotes Deuteronomy 25:4 alongside Luke 10:7, referring to both as “Scripture.”

At the end of his second letter, Peter writes, “And count the patience of our Lord as salvation, just as our beloved brother Paul also wrote to you according to the wisdom given him, as he does in all his letters when he speaks in them of these matters. There are some things in them that are hard to understand, which the ignorant and unstable twist to their own destruction, as they do the other Scriptures” (2 Pet 3:14–16). Peter here calls Paul’s letters “Scripture” and lumps them in with the rest of what he takes to be written divine revelation, which probably includes other NT books as well.

These are snapshots that give us glimpses of how the early Christians were thinking about the books that came to be known as the New Testament. None of these passages seem to have been written in order to teach that we should regard these books as Scriptures. Rather, this seems to be mutually understood by both their writers and their recipients.

Evidence from the Early Church Fathers

As we move into the period of the early church fathers, we find a strong reverence for the authority of Jesus' apostles, as well as an understanding that many of the books of our NT bore this very authority.

In AD 96, Clement of Rome wrote about how “the apostles received the gospel for us from the Lord Jesus Christ. . . . So then, Christ is from God, and the apostles are from Christ. Both, therefore, came of the will of God in good order” (1 Clem 42:1–2). Clement also urges his readers, the Corinthian church, to read Paul’s first letter to them, and quotes parts of the Sermon on the Mount, giving it equal authority to the OT (13:1–2). It has also been argued that Clement shows knowledge of Romans, Ephesians, 1 Timothy, Titus, Hebrews, and 1 Peter.
Ignatius of Antioch, who wrote letters to seven churches during a visit to Rome (ca. 115 AD), quotes Matthew, Luke, Acts, Romans, 1 Corinthians, Ephesians, Colossians and 1 Thessalonians as authoritative.

Polycarp, writing his Epistle to the Philippians in 107 AD, quotes the NT about 100 times, clearly giving it equal, if not greater, authority than the OT. He quotes or strongly alludes to Matthew, Mark, Luke, Acts, 1 and 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, 1 and 2 Thessalonians, 1 and 2 Timothy, Hebrews, 1 Peter, and 1 and 3 John. He even couples Ps 4:4 and Eph 4:26 together, calling them “these Scriptures” (12:4).

Papias (60–130 AD) clearly viewed both Matthew and Mark as canonical.

The Epistle of Barnabas (ca. 130) quotes Matthew with the formula “it is written."

From this, and other evidence, it seems rather clear that, although not collected into one larger canon (i.e., the New Testament), these books, as well as others in our NT canon, were circulated and read as Scripture.

It’s important to keep in mind, again, this is what we can reconstruct from the fragments left to us from history. The fact that other NT books might not be mentioned does not mean that they were not regarded as Scripture as well, any more than a Pastor’s use of, say, five books of the Bible in a given sermon would indicate that he only holds those five books to be canonical.

Evidence from Heretical Groups

Also from the second century, we know of several important heretical groups which, ironically, began to force the church to more sharply define which books bore the genuine mark of apostolic authority and which ones did not. The most glaring example of this is Marcion, a gnostic who held that Jesus came to save the world from the God of the OT, whom he saw as evil and inferior. He advocated a canon containing only Luke and ten of Paul’s letters, purged of references that paid high regard to the OT. This is actually the first canonical list that we know of, and its value for us is that attests to the acceptance of Luke and of the Pauline corpus among early Christians, even if we are speaking here of a heretical sect.

Another example of an important heretical movement were the Montanists, who followed the teachings of Montanus, a charismatic leader who claimed to be the mouthpiece of the Holy Spirit and who, along with other so-called prophets and prophetesses, would enter into a trance-like state and declare what he and his followers believed to be the Word of God. Yet even among these heretics, the oracles of their leaders were not seen to bear the same authority as Scripture itself.

The gnostic work, Gospel of Truth, treats the Gospels, Acts, Paul’s letters, Hebrews, and Revelation as authoritative.

The ever-increasing number of early sub-Christian heretical movements, of which these are just some examples, pushed the church to more clearly define what was and what was not apostolic Scripture. The earliest written evidence of the orthodox’s response is the second-century Muratorian Canon (named after its finder), written in Rome, which lists all of our NT books except Hebrews, James, and 2 Peter (and possibly also 1 Peter—it’s omission seems to be a scribal error). It also contains the Apocalypse of Peter, which the author of the list expresses hesitations about, noting that it is not universally accepted (in contrast to the others). It should be noted that this document is fragmentary and its meaning is sometimes unclear.

Other Early Figures

Sometime between 170–85 AD, the Syrian church leader Tatian produced a harmony of the four canonical Gospels called the Diatessaron. For him, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John were the four authoritative sources on Jesus' life, despite other inferior so-called gospels that were circulating at this time.

Writing at about the same time, Irenaeus, who was a well-known bishop of Lungdunum in Gaul, and whose views therefore express what was mainstream among the orthodox, recognized twenty-two NT books as authoritative, with the exception of  Hebrews, James, 2 Peter, and 3 John. It should be noted that Irenaeus did, however, include the Shepherd of Hermas. In his work, Against Heresies, he charges Marcion with the error of modifying Scripture, since the latter removed the OT, did not regard large portions of the New, and purged the remaining documents of whatever didn't conform to his beliefs. Here he also explicitly affirms the sole legitimacy of the four canonical gospels. (3.11.8). His contemporary, Terullian, used roughly the same books.

Origen, also writing at this time, has a more straightforward discussion of the issue, and labels the works also attested to in Irenaeus and Tertullian as “undisputed,” while noting the others to be less certain among some. He does, however, seem to view Hebrews, James, and Jude as Scripture (based on how he quotes them—Hebrews is quoted, apparently as Scripture, over 200 times). In fairness, it should be noted that Origen is also sympathetic to the Gospel of Peter, the Gospel of the Hebrews, the Acts of Paul, 1 Clement, the Epistle of Barnabas, the Didache, and the Shepherd of Hermas.

Summary of the Early Years

Based on this and other evidence, here’s what we can say about the New Testament canon by 220 AD:

The Gospels: Universally accepted

Acts: Universally accepted

Paul: Universally accepted

Hebrews: Accepted in the East; not recognized in the West until the fourth century; it is noteworthy that the hesitancy is due to the fact that it is anonymous—authorship was an important criterion for the early church; they needed to know who wrote it!

James: Generally accepted

1 Peter: Universally accepted.

2 Peter: Unknown; possibly accepted in the Muratorian canon as the Apocalypse of Peter; it has been postulated that the reason the church expressed so much caution with respect to 2 Peter is because of the preponderance of Petrine forgeries that were being circulated.[1]

1 John: Universally accepted

2 and 3 John: Disputed; may have been attached to 1 John.

Jude: Generally accepted.

Revelation: Generally accepted.

Thus, we have widespread acknowledgement of 23 of the 27 books of the NT. It is important to realize that everything significant that we believe as Christians can be well-established by these books. In fact, even if we only had the Gospels and Paul, we would have this. One might even go so far as to say that even if we only had one of the four Gospels, or one of Paul’s letters, the basic content of our faith—trust in Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection for the forgiveness of sin and reconciliation before God—would still be established. This is not to say that the contested books were unimportant, but (and this is extremely important) we should not be duped into thinking that the only way that Christianity can be true is if all 66 books of the Bible (or even the 27 books of the NT) can be proven to be the Word of God. The truthfulness of who Jesus is, our sin predicament, who God is, Jesus’ death and resurrection, and the primacy of faith in appropriating the salvific benefits of Jesus’ work, are in no ways in jeopardy if certain aspects of Scripture are called into question. Of course, we should love and treasure the Scriptures, and live by them; but if someone is in doubt about certain issues pertaining to the canon, he or she should not jump to the false conclusion that such doubts undermine the whole of Christianity.

It is also important to remember that most churches at this time were still heavily localized and autonomous. There was no governing body to officially declare what was and was not Scripture, which is why, at this time, we cannot speak of any official position of “the church.” Again, what we have are historical snapshots of what was taking place.

The Next Phase

Our impressions of these snapshots are confirmed as we continue to move into the next centuries of the church. Eusebius (ca. 260–340 AD), for example, confidently labels some books as homologoumena (“recognized books”) and others as antilegomena (“disputed books”). The former are comprised of the four Gospels, Acts, Paul, Hebrews (believing it to have been written by Paul), 1 Peter, 1 John, and Revelation (with some hesitation—there were doubts regarding its authorship that prevented universal acceptance; again, note the importance of authorship). The latter are comprised of two groups: Those books that are not universally recognized and should be regarded as Scripture (James, Jude, 2 Peter, 2 and 3 John) and those that also are not universally recognized but should not be regarded as Scripture (the Acts of Paul, the Shepherd of Hermas, the Apocalypse of Peter, the Didache, and Barnabas).

The first actual list that confidently corresponds exactly with our New Testaments is the thirty-ninth Festal Letter of Athanasius, written in 367 AD. Of these books, he writes, “Let no one add to these, nor take from these.”

In the West, the 27 books of our NT were officially recognized as the set and exclusive canon at the Synod of Rome in 382 AD. This ruling was upheld shortly after in subsequent councils, such as the synods of Hippo (393) and Carthage (397). It should be noted that several churches adopted canons slightly different from the standard one accepted in the West and in the East.[2]While the Ethiopian Orthodox Church recognizes our 27 books, it adds eight more.[3]The Syrian Peshitta, on the other hand, excludes 2 Peter, 2 and 3 John, Jude, and Revelation. These are exceptions, however, and obviously do not reflect mainstream Christian thought at any point in history.

Ultimately, we must see the recognition of the NT canon to be a function of the Holy Spirit’s role in guiding Christ’s church into all truth (John 16:13). In recognizing these books as canon, the church was doing just that—recognizing the authority that the books intrinsically possessed, as opposed to conferring them with authority that was the church’s to grant. The canon, in other words, is not an authoritative list of books; it is a list of authoritative books. The church did not make certain books canonical; it recognized them as possessing the apostolic character that qualified them as such. It is impressive indeed to consider that the canon is not something that was declared by an ecclesial hierarchy, but rather grew as a grassroots phenomenon among localized churches that saw the need to further define Scriptural authority in the face of heresy. In so doing it carried on the canonical trajectory already evident within the NT itself. And when formal councils eventually did weigh in on the matter, they did not do so by announcing which books they had decided were to be regarded as canon; all of them simply stated which books they had received as canonical.

Concluding Thoughts

Ultimately, the reason we accept the traditional canon of the New Testament is because we have confidence in the providence of God to give his church those books as authoritative Scripture which actually are authoritative Scripture. This is confirmed in our hearts when we read the NT, which is to be expected in light of what Jesus says regarding himself in John 10:2–5:

He who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice. A stranger they will not follow, but they will flee from him, for they do not know the voice of strangers.

I am also reminded of the words of the unnamed disciples who encountered the risen Christ on the road to Emmaus: “Did not our hearts burn within us when he spoke to us on the road?” (Luke 24:32)

There are, of course, other things that can be taken into consideration with respect to the NT canon. For example, we might speak of their early dates, and their origins in the apostolic era and, in many cases, from the apostles themselves. We may speak of their value as the primary sources of Jesus’ life and teaching, and of the history of the early church. We may speak of their inerrancy, and of the fact that no convincing errors are present in them (in my opinion, of course, as well as the opinions of many other very well-informed individuals). All in due time.

Does all this give us an airtight argument, whereby we have no choice but to accept the 27 books of the NT as God’s exclusive canon? No, it does not. But, having known the books fairly well for some years now, and having studied them, and having seen how they mesh together, and how sophisticated and solid their arguments are, and how well they interlock with the OT Scriptures, and how uniform their theology actually is, and, most of all, how God ministers to the hearts of his people and bears witness by his Spirit through them, we have every reason to believe that they are the Word of God. After all, if we believe in a God who created the universe, and who cares about human evil and seeks to do something about it, and who desires to communicate his truth to us, I know of no other candidate for special divine revelation that even comes close to the New Testament Scriptures (except, of course, for the Old Testament Scriptures!). Further, I know of no convincing intellectual reasons (historical or otherwise) that compel me to doubt their truthfulness. If anything, my investigations into alleged “contradictions” and factual “errors” in the Bible have only left me more impressed with the truthfulness of the biblical texts.

 

[1]Michael Green, The Second Epistle General of Peter and the General Epistle of Jude (2nd ed; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 14–15.

[2]The opinion of the Greek churches was solidified by acceptance of Athanasius’ letter.

[3]These eight books are the Sirate Tsion, Tizaz, Gitsew, Abtilis, 1 and 2 Dominos, Clement, and Didascalia. The Ethiopian Orthodox Church also accepts the OT apocryphal books.

by Doug Becker, Pastor of Theology

Over the next few months, we will be learning about the ways in which God used the prophets Elijah and Elisha to call the northern kingdom of Israel to repentance. Together, their ministries spanned approximately seventy-five years, covering the reigns of five Israelite kings (Ahab, Ahaziah, Jehoram, Jehu, and Jehoahaz).[1]Here I will call to light several different points in which archaeological discoveries come to bear on the biblical storyline surrounding these two prophets. While it is possible to extend the discussion to all sorts of topics, such as cities and locations, customs, and broad political realities, our scope, for the sake of time and space, will be much narrower; we will focus primarily on events and personalities whose reality is confirmed outside the Bible.

Three Important Nations Outside Israel

There are three nations outside of Israel who are relevant to this discussion. The first of these is Assyria—in particular, the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Beginning with the reign of Adad-nirari II in 911 BC, Neo-Assyria became an aggressively expansionist empire that dominated large areas of the ancient Near East until its demise in the early sixth century BC.[2]The most important Assyrian king during the events of the Elijah and Elisha narratives is the empire’s fourth ruler, Shalmaneser III, who reigned from 859 to 783 BCand pushed his armies further into the areas just north of Israel than any of his Neo-Assyrian predecessors. This nation does not enter prominently into the Bible’s storyline until much later (2 Kgs 15:29; Isa 7:17), but it is relevant for us because of Ahab’s involvement in a coalition of kings that attempted to fend off Shalmaneser’s attempted invasion in 853, as well as references to several characters in these biblical narratives in his monumental inscriptions. One hundred thirty years later, three successive Assyrian kings would bring about the demise of the northern kingdom of Israel.[3]

The second nation we will consider is Aramea. The Arameans were a loose confederation of city-states that controlled the region just north of Israel. In this part of Kings, Aramea refers mainly to the city of Damascus, ruled by Ben-hadad II (ca. 880–844/3 BC) and the usurper Hazael (ca. 844/3–803 BC). Most modern Bible translations call Aram “Syria,” and its people “Syrians.”

The third nation is Moab, located in the Transjordan, east of the Dead Sea, just north of Edom. Like the Assyrians and Arameans, he Moabites were ethnically distinct from Israel, and notoriously opposed Israel as the latter approached the Promised Land from the south under the leadership of Moses (Numbers 22–25; Deut 2:8b–15).

Ahab of the House of Omri

We begin with king Omri, the father of King Ahab and the head of the Omride dynasty (i.e., the kings descended from him). While mentioned only briefly in 1 Kings 16:21–28, Omri’s significance as an influential ruler in the northern kingdom is evident from the fact that the kingdom of Israel is referred to as “the house of Omri” or “the land of Omri” in Assyrian inscriptions as late as 720 BC, even though his reign ended in 874, and his dynasty ended in 841 with the death of Jehoram.[4]In fact, even Jehu, the bloodthirsty military commander who overthrew the Omride dynasty, is referred to as “Jehu of Bīt-Ḫumri (“the house of Omri”)” in the famous Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III.[5]Omri is the king who moved the capital of the northern kingdom from Tirzah to Samaria.

Omri’s son Ahab reigned from 874–853 BC. Archaeological excavations of Samaria have uncovered the royal palace built by Omri, complete with tombs, as well as over 300 luxury items carved from ivory, 300 from the palace itself.[6]Note that 1 Kings 22:39 calls Ahab’s palace a “house of ivory” and that the northern prophet Amos twice cites ivory as an example of the opulence for which Samaria was condemned (Amos 3:15; 6:4).

More significant, however, is the mention of king Ahab in an Assyrian monument known as the Kurkh Monolith, named after the town in which it was found in 1861.[7]Here, Shalmaneser III boasts about his military expedition in Syria, as he stabbed westward further and with more vigor than the kings who had come before him. Understanding the threat that this would prove to their region, twelve kings formed a coalition to halt Shalmaneser’s advance, and engaged him in battle on the Orontes River, by the city of Qarqar. The following is the relevant portion of Shalmaneser’s account of the events:

I departed from the city of Arganâ. I approached the city of Qarqar. I razed, destroyed and burned the city of Qarqar, his royal city. 1,200 chariots, 1,200 cavalry, (and) 20,000 troops of Hadad-ezer (Adad-idri) of Damascus; 700 chariots, 700 cavalry, (and) 10,000 troops of Irḫulēni, the Hamathite; 2,000 chariots, (and) 10,000 troops of Ahab, the Israelite (Sirʾalāia); 500 troops of Byblos; 1,000 troops of Egypt . . .[1]

The Monolith records a combined force of 40,000 infantry 2,000 cavalry, and 4,000 chariots assembled to repel Shalmaneser. Of particular interest is the presence of king “Ahab the Israelite,” who fields the largest number of chariots out of all the kings mentioned.

Note also that Ahab fights here alongside an Aramean named Hadad-ezer of Damascus, who is almost certainly Ben-hadad II of the Bible.[2]The two names are very similar, Ben-hadad meaning “son of Hadad,” and Hadad-ezer meaning “Hadad is help” (Hadad is the storm deity also known as Baal).[3]K. Lawson Younger, Jr. is probably correct in arguing that Ben-hadad was a dynastic title assumed by rulers of Damascus, similar to “Caesar” in Rome or “Pharaoh” in Egypt.[4]

In this inscription, Shalmaneser claims to have delivered a devastating blow against the alliance of defending kings, bragging,

Like Adad, I rained down upon them a devastating flood. I spread out their corpses (and) I filled the plain. . . . I made their blood flow in the wadis(?) [    ]. The field was too small for laying flat their bodies (lit. “their lives); the broad countryside had been consumed in burying them. I blocked the Orontes River with their corpses as with a causeway.[5]

Despite his boasts, it is generally believed that the confrontation was at least a draw, given that the Assyrian monarch withdrew from the region as a result and did not gain a foothold, only to fight against similar coalitions again in 849, 848, and 845, until they were brought in submission 841.[6]Indeed, it would be surprising if he had acknowledged defeat in his own propaganda!

Not only is Ahab mentioned in this inscription, but it is noteworthy that he appears as an ally of Hadad-ezer/Ben-hadad. The narrative of 1 Kings portrays the two kings as constantly opposed to one another, with three distinct battles between their two nations recorded for us in the biblical text. In the first of these, which would have occurred in 855 BC, Ahab is able to defeat the Arameans, who then recoup and prepare for a second attack (1 Kgs 20:1–21). In the next battle (20:26–34, 854 BC), Ahab again is victorious, and this is attributed to the Arameans’ hubris, expressed by the “man of God” in verse 28: “Because the Syrians have said, “the LORDis a god of the hills but he is not a god of the valleys.” At the end of this account, Ben-hadad surrenders to Ahab, and a covenant is established between them (20:30b–34)—a covenant of which the Lord disapproves (vv. 35–43). The Scriptures are silent about the Battle of Qarqar, because the biblical narrative is necessarily selective in its presentation of events. That being the case, it is no chance coincidence that these two kings, who were at constant loggerheads with one another, become allies in 1 Kings 20 exactly one year beforethey are mentioned together as allies in the Kurkh Monolith. Moreover, Israelite kings are not present in Shalmaneser’s subsequent accounts of his battles against this coalition, weakening any notion that Ahab was allied with Ben-hadad in 853 out of necessity.

Shortly after the Battle of Qarqar, king Ahab is killed in battle at Ramoth-gilead, after the covenant between him and his Aramaen counterpart broke down (1 Kings 22).

The Moabite Rebellion

The book of 2 Kings begins by telling us, “After the death of Ahab, Moab rebelled against Israel.” This narrative is picked up again in chapter 3, which goes on to explain that Mesha, Moab’s king, had been subjected to the northern kingdom and was required to deliver a heavy tribute of livestock (lambs and rams). This rebellion began under the reign of Ahab’s first son, Ahaziah, who died after a reign of less than two years, presumably from injuries sustained in an accident in his palace (2 Kgs 1:2, 17). Ahaziah’s brother Jehoram (sometimes written Joram) ascended to the throne in his place, and decides to deal with the Moabite situation. Allying with king Jehoshaphat of Judah[7]and an unnamed king of Edom, Israel delivers such a crushing blow against Moab’s forces that king Mesha sacrifices his own son, presumably to his god Chemosh. In the end, however, the Lord does not allow total victory. A “great fury” (v. 27) rises up within the Moabite ranks and they are able to repel the invading Israelite forces (2 Kings 3).

In 1868, a missionary named Frederick Augustus Klein discovered a basalt monument with a lengthy text over one meter high in Dhiban, Jordan. Although badly damaged by locals, the stone was reconstructed at the Louvre in Paris, and a fuller reconstruction of the text was made possible by comparison with squeezes of it made by Clermont Ganneau prior to its fragmentation.[8]The monument is known as the Mesha Stele or the Moabite Stone. Its language is ancient Moabite, and it preserves king Mesha’s account of his rebellion against Israel before he was subdued by Jehoram and Jehoshaphat. Unfortunately, the end of the text has been lost, but the lengthy narrative provides striking parallels with the biblical account in 2 Kings 3:

I am Mesha, son of Chemosh[yat], king of Moab, the Dibonite.
My father ruled over Moab thirty years, and I reigned after my father,
and I made this high place for Chemosh at Qarḥoh,
[. . .]
for he delivered me from all the kings and he caused me to prevail over all whom I hate.

Omri, king of Israel, oppressed Moab many days, for Chemosh was angry with his land(i.e., Moab).
And his son succeeded him, and he also said, ‘I will oppress Moab.’ In my days he said [    ].
And I prevailed over him and over his house. And Israel is surely destroyed forever.

And Omri took possession of a[ll the la]nd of Medeba, and he lived in it his days and half the days of his son, forty years. But Chemosh restored it in my days, and I built Baʿal Maʿon, and I made in it the reservoir, and I built Kiriathaim.

And the men of god dwelt in the land of ʿAtarot forever, and the king of Israel built for himself ʿAtarot. And I fought against the city, and I captured it, and I killed all the people. The city belonged to Chemosh, and to Moab I brought from there the altar hearth of his dwd, and I dragged it before Chemosh in Qiryat. And I settled in it the men of Sharon and the men of Maharoth.

And Chemosh said to me, ‘Go, seize Nebo from Israel.’ And I went during the night, and I fought against it from the break of dawn until noon. And I captured it, and I slaughtered all of it, seven thousand mighty men, and aliens, and mighty women and alien women, and female slaves. For Ashtar Chemosh I devoted them to destruction, and I took from there the vessels of Yahweh; I dragged them before Chemosh.

Now the king of Israel had built Jahaz, and he stayed in it when he fought against me, and Chemosh drove him from my presence. I took from Moab two hundred men, all of its contingent, and I brought it up against Jahaz, and I captured it, to add it to Dibon.

Mesha then goes on to describe how he made slaves of captured Israelites and used them to build up the citadel of Qarḥoh.

The inscription ends as follows:

And as for Horonaim, the house of [D]avid lived in it. [. . .] Chemosh said to me, ‘Go down, fight against Horonaim.’ And I went down. [. . . and] Chemosh [restored] it during my days, and from there [. . .] year and I [. . .].[9]

Several important points can be gleaned from this important piece of extrabiblical literature.

First, it fleshes in many of the details omitted in the biblical account, and makes clear that Mesha’s rebellion was exceedingly bloody, and involved the wholesale slaughter of thousands of Israelites and an untold number of Judeans (those of “the house of David”), the history of Omri’s subjugation of Moab notwithstanding. In other words, Jehoram and Jehoshaphat are not responding to a mere refusal to pay tribute. This serves as a reminder of the violent world in which Israel and Judah had to live, and should give us pause before we quickly condemn the Israelites for marching against Moab with military force.

Second, Mesha claims that Omri oppressed Moab “his days and half the days of his son, forty years.” Although there are several theories regarding the chronological statements of the Mesha Stele, a fairly straightforward reading seems to be best. It is quite clear that the mention of Omri’s “son” does not refer to king Ahab, nor does it need to. All of the kings of the Omride dynasty would have been considered Omri’s “sons” (e.g., note how Jesus is called the “Son of David”). The biblical timeline of the Omride kings is as follows:

Omri: 12 years
Ahab: 22 years
Ahaziah: 2 years
Jehoram: 12 years
Total: 48 years

Now consider the strange way in which 2 Kings presents Mesha’s rebellion. We are first told of it in chapter 1, verse 1, but immediately after this the narrative drops the story and focuses instead on Ahaziah’s demise. Then, in chapter 2, we are told of the transition from Elijah to Elisha, and only in chapter 3 verse 4 do we get back on track with the account of the rebellion and Israel’s response to it. This suggests that Mesha’s rebellion began immediately after the death of Ahab, but did not gain momentum until several years later, sometime during the reign of Jehoram. Thus, if “half the days of his son” refers to the reign of Jehoram, then the rebellion occurred 42 years after Omri ascended the throne. Assuming that Omri did not immediately subjugate Moab as soon as he became king, Mesha’s chronology of “forty years” of oppression under the House of Omri fits quite nicely.[10]

Third, the Mesha inscription is the first unambiguous extrabiblical reference to the proper name of the God of the Bible: Yahweh. Here, Mesha claims to have removed objects of worship from Nebo, when he devoted its inhabitants to destruction—“vessels of Yahweh.” At first blush, this may seem odd, because Ahab and Jezebel had attempted to replace Yahweh worship in the northern kingdom with Baal worship. However, 2 Kings 3:2 tells us that Jehoram had taken some measures to reverse the religious policies of his father: “He put away the pillar of Baal that his father had made.” This would explain why the ill-fated inhabitants of Nebo are found here once again worshiping Yahweh, albeit in the deviant fashion endorsed by the northern kings (v. 3: “he clung to the sin of Jeroboam the son of Nebat”).

Finally, the Mesha inscription ends with a fragmentary account of Moab’s opposition to “the house of David” in Horonaim. In other words, the northern kingdom of Israel was not the only one to feel Mesha’s wrath. This helps explain Jehoshaphat’s willingness to join Jehoram in his invasion of Moab.

Hazael of Damascus

After his famous “contest” with the prophets of Baal, Elijah fled to Mount Horeb (Sinai), where he was told to return and anoint successors to three important figures in the story: Jehu to succeed the House of Omri, Elisha to succeed Elijah himself, and Hazael to succeed Ben-hadad. Of these, Elijah himself would anoint only his own successor, Elisha. Elisha, in turn, anointed the other two. And it is the latter of these, Hazael, that deserves comment here.[11]

According to the account in 2 Kings 8:7–15, Hazael is entrusted with a gift to take to Elisha on behalf of his master, Ben-hadad II of Damascus, who had fallen ill, in hopes of currying the prophet’s favor. After informing Hazael that Ben-hadad will die, Elisha breaks down in tears, and tells Hazael it is “because I know the evil that you will do to the people of Israel. You will set on fire their fortresses, and you will kill their young men with the sword and dash in pieces their little ones and rip open their pregnant women. . . . The LORDhas shown me that you are to be king over Syria” (vv. 12–13). Hazael returns to his master, and the next day suffocates him to death.

The Bible presents Hazael as aggressively opposed to Israel and Judah during his reign, fighting against Jehoram (2 Kgs 9:14–15), Jehu (10:32–33), and Jehoahaz (13:3, 22–23), and even attacking Jerusalem during the time of king Joash, who resorted to bribing the Aramean king to withdraw from his land by plundering the temple and his own palace (12:17–18; on this campaign of Hazael’s in the south, see below).

There is a wealth of evidence surrounding the reign of Hazael that has come down to us from antiquity.

Probably the most famous of these is an Aramaic inscription found at Tell Dan in 1993 and 1994. Judging by the form of its letters (paleography), the inscription dates to the late eighth century BC. The author does not name himself, but there is a general consensus among scholars that it should be attributed to Hazael. Though fragmentary, the preserved and reconstructive text has proven to be very helpful in understanding the history of the ancient Near East during this time period:

[   s]aid [  ]
and cut [    ]
[   ]ʾl my father.
He went up [against him when] he fought at Ab[  ]
Then my father laid down
and went to his [father]s.
And the king of I[s]rael formerly invaded the land of my father,
[but] Hadad [ma]de me king.
And Hadad went before me.
[and] I went from seven [    ] of my king(s) (or “kingdoms”)
And I killed [sevent]y ki[ng]s who harnessed thou[sands of ch]ariots and thousands of horsemen.
And [I killed Jo]ram, son of [Ahab], king of Israel.

And [I] killed [Ahaz]yahu, son of [Joram],
[and I overthr]ew the house of David.
I imposed [tribute   ]
their land to [   ]
another and to [was/became kin]g over Is[rael  ]
siege against [   ][12]

The Bible is quite clear that Hazael usurped the throne from his predecessor, Ben-hadad II. Why, then, does Hazael refer to “my father” several times in his inscription, apparently referring to the king who went before him? It should be noted that the inscription is quite fragmentary at this point, and it is exceedingly unclear what is meant by these references (i.e., whether or not “my father” refers to the previous king). Even more significant, however, is the way Shalmaneser III references Hazael in what is known as the Aššur Basalt Statue:

Hadad-ezer (Adad-idri) passed away (and) Hazaʾel, the son of a nobody, took the throne. He mustered his numerous troops (and) moved against me to wage war and battle. I fought with him (and) defeated him. I took away from him his walled camp. He fled to save his life (and) I pursued (him) as far as Damascus, his royal city. I cut down his orchards.[13]

The expression, “son of a nobody” (Akk. mār lā mammāna), clearly denotes an upstart ruler who has no genealogical claim to his throne.[14]This establishes the veracity of the biblical text regarding Hazael’s usurpation of the crown of Damascus. Even if the references to “my father” in the Tell Dan Inscription do refer to Ben-hadad II (which is far from clear), this would be an attempt to claim legitimacy, even though Hazael did not belong to the direct line of succession.[15]

Hazael also takes credit here for killing both the Israelite king Jehoram[16]and the Judean king Ahaziah. The biblical account is different, explaining that Jehoram was wounded in battle against Hazael (once again at Ramoth-gilead, where Ahab was killed) and was brought to Jezreel to heal from his wounds (2 Kgs 8:28–29; 9:14–15), where Jehu killed both him and Ahaziah who was visiting him (9:14–28). It is not difficult to see why an ambitious Hazael would claim these as notches in his own sword.

The Tell Dan Inscription is also important because of its reference to “the house of David” (bytdwd), which, at the time of its discovery, took a lot of wind out of the sails of more skeptical scholars who held that David was a historically fictitious character, no more “real” than King Arthur.[17]Alan Millard comments, “Attempts to avoid any possible reference to an historical David stem rather from a form of skepticism at odds with all known ancient practices.”[18]Note that a reference to the “house of David” also occurs in the Mesha Stele.

In addition to the inscription from Tell Dan, four short texts called “booty inscriptions” have been found bearing Hazael’s name. Two were found in Greek temples, which had apparently been left there after they had been looted from Hazael’s homeland. The first two are made of bronze and were worn by horses, and the latter two were made of ivory and were probably part of furniture.[19]

Hazael is also mentioned by three other texts attributed to Shalmaneser III, a marble tablet from a wall of Aššur,[20]the Kurbaʾil Statue,[21]and the Black Obelisk.[22]

Finally, 2 Kings 12:17 reads, “At that time Hazael king of Syria went up and fought against Gath and took it.” This was part of the campaign in the south where Joash ransacked the temple of the Lord in order to turn away Hazael. Recent excavations at the Philistine city of Gath (Tel eṣ-Ṣāfī),[23]have uncovered evidence of a siege dating to the time of Hazael. In particular, a siege moat was discovered. Siege moats were part of a military tactic known as sapping, in which trenches were dug in order to protect attackers from a city’s defenders. This provides further confirmation that Hazael was the invader (aside from the date, which coincides with the Bible’s testimony), since the Zakkur Inscription from Hamath in Syria tells of similar tactics used by Hazael’s son, Ben-hadad III: “They raised a wall higher than the wall of Hazrach, they dug a ditch deeper than [its] ditch.”[24]More details on the excavations at Gath and Hazael’s siege there can be found at the excavation’s website, gath.wordpress.com.

 

[1]“Kurkh Monolith,” translated by K. Lawson Younger, Jr. COS2.113A.

[2]Shalmaneser’s inscriptions consistently refer to Ben-hadad as Hadad-ezer (Akk. Adad-idri). See William W. Hallo, “From Qarqar to Carchemish: Assyria and Israel in the Light of New Discoveries,” Biblical Archaeologist 23 (1960): 39–40; Donald J. Wiseman, “Hadadezer” in Reallexikon der Assyriologie und Vorderasiatischen Archäologie (ed. Erich Ebeling and Bruno Meissner; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1972–75), 38.

[3]“Hadad” and “Baal” are used interchangeably. For example, one Ugaritic text, KTU 1.101, reads, “Baʿlu sits, like a throne [is] the mountain, Hadad [    ] like a flood.”

[4]K. Lawson Younger, Jr., A Political History of the Arameans: From Their Origins to the End of Their Polities (Archaeology and Biblical Studies 13; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2016),584.

[5]Younger, “Kurkh Monolith.”

[6]Marc van der Mieroop, A History of the Ancient Near East ca. 3000–323 BC(Oxford: Blackwell, 2004), 227.

[7]Jehoshaphat fought alongside Ahab at Ramoth-gilead.

[8]A squeeze is a form of mâché made by applying pressure to a moistened filter paper that has been placed across the face of an inscription. When the paper dries, it preserves the shape of the characters and images of the inscription.

[9]My translation. The original text can be found in H. Donner and W. Röllig, Kanaanäïsche und aramäïsche Inscriften. Band 1. 5. Erweiterte und überarbeitete Auflage (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2002) § 181.

[10]The lengths given to the reign of the Omride kings in the Bible requires some comment. At this point, the narrative seems to have employed an “accession-year” dating system. To understand this, imagine that a king comes to the throne in the sixth month of the year. When counting the length of his reign, should we count the final six months of the year as his first “year,” or should we wait until the new year and count that as his first year? Both dating systems are present in the Bible, but the dating of the Omride kings follows the former, the so-called accession-year system. Thus, the “actual” lengths of the Omride kings are: Omri, 11 years; Ahab, 21 years; Ahaziah, 1 year; Jehoram, 11 years. Bearing this in mind, Mesha’s “forty years” was probably more like 38 ½ years (11 + 21 + 1 + 5.5).

[11]I have already noted that Jehu son of Nimshi appears on Shalmaneser III’s Black Obelisk. Interestingly, this is the only graphical depiction of an Israelite king dating from the time of the actual monarchy. The register reads, “I received the tribute of Jehu (Ia-ú-a) (the man) of Bīt-Ḫumrî: silver, gold, a golden bowl, a golden goblet, golden cups, golden buckets, tin, a staff of the king’s hand, (and) javelins(?)” (Younger, “Black Obelisk”).

[12]“The Tell Dan Stele,” translated by Alan Millard COS 2.39.

[13]A. Kirk Grayson, Assyrian Rulers of the Early First Millennium BC: II (858–745 BC) (The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia Assyrian Periods, vol. 3; Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996), A.0.102.40.

[14]S. Yamada, “The Construction of the Assyrian Empire: A Historical Study of the Inscriptions of Shalmaneser III (859–824 BC) Relating to His Campaigns to the West (Studies in the History and Culture of the Ancient Near East 3; Leiden: Brill, 2000), 189.

[15]Andre Lemaire, “The Tel Dan Stela as a Piece of Royal Historiography,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 81 (1998): 6; but see the additional observations in K. Lawson Younger, Jr., “‘Hazael, Son of a Nobody’: Some Reflections in Light of Recent Study, in Writing and Ancient Near Eastern Society: Papers in Honour of Alan R. Millard (Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies 426; ed. Piotr Bienkowski, Christopher Mee, and Elizabeth Slater; New York: T & T Clark, 2005), 248–50;

[16]Regarding the reconstruction, “Joram, son of Ahab,” Joram (i.e., Jehoram) is the only Israelite king whose name ends in -rm. This is an accepted reconstruction of this line among scholars. A. Biran and J. Naveh, “The Tel Dan Inscription: A New Fragment,” Israel Exploration Journal 45 (1995): 9; P. -E. Dion, “The Tel Dan Stele and Its Historical Significance,” in Michael: Historical, Epigraphical and Biblical Studies in Honor of Prof. Michael Heltzer(ed. Y. Avishur and R. Deutsch; Tel Aviv/Jaffa: Archaeological Center Publications, 1999), 148–49; Anson F. Rainey, “The Suffix Conjugation Pattern in Ancient Hebrew Tense and Modal Functions,” Ancient Near Eastern Studies 40 (2003): 3–42; W. M. Schniedewind, “Tel Dan Stela: New Light on Aramaic and Jehu’s Revolt,” Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 302 (1996): 77.

[17]F. H. Cryer, “A ‘Betdawd’ Miscellany. Dwd, Dwdʾ or Dwdh?” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 9 (1995): 52–58; Thomas L. Thompson, “‘House of David’: An Eponymic Referent to Yahweh as Godfather,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 9 (1995): 59–74.

[18]Millard, “The Tell Dan Stele,” n. 11; G. Couturier, “Quelques observations sur le bytdwdde la stele araméenne de Tel Dan,” in The World of the Aramaeans, vol. 2 (JSOTSup 325; ed. P. M. M. Daviau, J. W. Wevers, and M. Weigl; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001), 72–98.

[19]“The Hazael Booty Inscriptions,” translated by Alan Millard COS2.40.

[20]“Annals: Marble Slab,” translated by K. Lawson Younger, Jr. in COS2.113D.

[21]“Kurbaʾil Statue,” translated by K. Lawson Younger, Jr. COS2.113E.

[22]Younger, “Black Obelisk,” COS § 2.113F.

[23]C. S. Ehrlich, “Die Suche nach Gat und die neuen Ausgrabungen auf Tell eṣ-Ṣāfī, in Kein Land für sich allein: Studien zum Kulturkontakt in Kanaan, Israel/Palästina und Ebirnâri für Manfred Weippert zum 65. Geburtstag (OBO 186; ed. U. Hübner and E. A. Knauf; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag, 2002), 56–69.

[24]“The Inscription of Zakkur, King of Hamath,” translated by Alan Millard COS 2.35.

by Doug Becker, Pastor of Theology

Does the Bible condone slavery? Eventually, every thinking Christian must confront this question. For one thing, if you read your Bible on a regular basis, it is only a matter of time before you will run into passages that speak quite frankly of it, such as the laws in Exodus that govern slave-master relationships. The New Testament too has passages such as Ephesians 6:5: “Bondservants, obey your earthly masters with fear and trembling, with a sincere heart, as you would Christ.” Paul convinced the fugitive slave Onesimus to return to his master Philemon, who was a Christian prominent enough to host a house church. We must all face the grim reality that texts like these have been used to justify even the vilest forms of slavery, such as that which was common in the American South before the Civil War.

This issue is much deeper than a question of intellectual curiosity, or of scoring points against the Bible’s critics who love to cite slave texts as a parade example of the Bible’s alleged ethical shortcomings. For the Christian, these passages, and others like them, are the inspired Word of God, which reveal his moral will to us. And so, the question may arise, “How can I love a God who finds it acceptable that one human being can own another?” Abraham Lincoln has been quoted as saying, “If anything is wrong, slavery is wrong.” If Lincoln knew this, why doesn’t God? And is such a God worthy of our love, adoration, and worship?

Here we will confront these issues head-on. Our purpose is not to explain away the relevant slavery passages in the Bible, but to attempt to understand them in their proper contexts. This is a somewhat daunting task, and so we will be as brief as possible, yet hopefully thorough enough to do justice to this significant issue.

Summary

In order to present an accurate picture of slavery in the Bible, we must delve in some detail into all of the most relevant passages. By the very nature of the beast, this requires a somewhat lengthy treatment. Though I have been as brief as possible, I realize that not every reader will want to read this entire treatment. For those simply looking for a brief overview, I offer the following points that will be fleshed out in the following essay:

• In both the Old and New Testaments, the words used to denote slaves did not necessarily carry the same connotations that we associate with slavery today. Only by understanding the biblical texts and the cultures that produced them can we understand what is being referred to in the Bible.
  
  
• The stealing and selling of human beings, such as has been common throughout human history, is a capital offense according to Old Testament law. The return of fugitive slaves to their masters was also illegal.
  
  
• In almost every instance, the kind of slavery governed by Old Testament law was debt-slavery, where an individual would offer labor in exchange for an outstanding debt that he could not pay. The laws that govern such transactions are given to protect the rights of such slaves, who could only serve for a maximum of six years.
  
  
• Early Christians had to work out their treatment of one another under Roman law, which they lacked the political influence to change.
  
  
• The Christian community was a counter-cultural movement in which social distinctions were all but erased. Jesus is the true Lord, and masters and slaves were expected to treat each other as beloved brothers and sisters and equal members of the body of Christ.

Slavery in Old Testament Law

Out the outset, we must make an important distinction between the Old Testament passages on slavery and those found in the New Testament. The passages in the Old Testament that we will be considering are found in the laws of Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy. One of the primary purposes of these laws was to govern ancient Israel—a nation that enjoyed a special covenant relationship with God and lived under kings and rulers who were supposed to govern in accordance with these laws. The New Testament passages, by contrast, are written to Christians who lived in the Roman Empire, where slavery was an important, socially-embedded institution. In other words, while the Old Testament law was given by God to be the law of the land, the admonitions in the New Testament are given to people living under someone else’s law. Accordingly, we will treat them separately.

Getting the Terminology Straight

A major cause of confusion for contemporary readers is the assumption that the word “slave,” as it is found in Old Testament legal passages, meant the same thing in ancient Israel as it does for us today. The Old Testament was written in Classical Hebrew, and so it is not surprising that certain words do not have perfect equivalents in modern English. The difficulty felt by Bible translators in rendering the Hebrew terms relating to slavery is fairly well-publicized.[1] Strictly speaking, the Old Testament does not call an individual bound to the service of another a “slave;” it calls him an ʿebed (pronounced eved), and a woman in such a role is called an ʾāmâ. While these terms can connote very harsh slavery, comparable to that which was found in the Antebellum South (e.g., the Hebrews as Egyptian slaves), it often does not, as is the case in most of the words’ appearances in the so-called Old Testament “slave laws.” The most that can be said about in general about these two terms, especially the first, is that they are used to denote a social class that is relatively lower than another. Thus, it is common in Old Testament speech for people to refer to themselves as “your servant” (Heb. ʿabdekā) when addressing someone submissively.

General Observations

So just how similar was Israelite slavery to our conception of the institution that bears the same name? Not much. Consider first that Israelite slavery was voluntary. Exodus 21:16 says, “Whoever steals a man and sells him, and anyone found in possession of him, shall be put to death.” Found among the earliest cluster of slave laws, this speaks directly to the issue of slavery, and forbids anything resembling a slave trade among the ancient Israelites. This verse alone should make it clear that “slavery” in Old Testament law is vastly different than anything that we commonly associate with slavery. By contrast, Leviticus 25:39 and 47 speak of the poor Israelite as “selling himself” into servitude, suggesting what we will soon discover—that Israelite slaves were debt-servants, not human chattel deprived of freedom and basic rights. The fourth commandment even requires that slaves enjoy the Sabbath along with their masters (Exod 20:8–11). Thus, any passage that speaks of masters as “buying” Hebrew servants should be understood as referring to a voluntary act, in which the slave was not sold by another, but sold his own labor to another Israelite.

Another important law that should inform our understanding of what was legal in ancient Israel is Deuteronomy 23:15–16: “You shall not give up to his master a slave who has escaped from his master to you. He shall dwell with you, in your midst, in the place that he shall choose within one of your towns, wherever it suits him. You shall not wrong him.” According to the law of Moses, it was actually illegal to return a fugitive slave.[2] In fact, this passage commands his fellow Israelites to allow him to dwell wherever he pleases. Effectively, Israelite slaves could break their service contracts simply by leaving. Slavery in Israelite law was entered into voluntarily and could be ended voluntarily. This stands in stark contrast to other ancient Near Eastern law codes of the day, such as the Law of Hammurabi (ca. 1792–1750 BC), which gives a drastically different perspective on runaway slaves:

If a man should harbor a fugitive slave or slave woman of either the palace or of a commoner in his house and not bring him out at the herald’s public proclamation, that householder shall be killed.

If a man seizes a fugitive slave or slave woman in the open country and leads him back to his owner, the slave owner shall give him 2 shekels of silver.

If that slave should refuse to identify his owner, he shall lead him off to the palace, his circumstances shall be investigated, and they shall return him to his owner.

If he should detain that slave in his own house and afterward the slave is discovered in his possession, that man shall be killed.[3]

Debt Slavery in Old Testament Law

Slavery, as it is described in Israelite law, was a way in which a family could deal with debt. Imagine that you are an ancient Israelite—the head of a household. You spend all day farming and keeping a small flock of sheep and goats, helped by everyone in your extended household. What do you do if you have a bad year, and are unable to feed your family? The answer is that you borrow from someone who has enough surplus grain (or some other commodity) to lend you. Under Israelite law, this loan would be interest-free (Lev 25:35–37), but you still need to pay back what you borrowed. But now imagine that you have another bad year, and so you need to borrow again. Year after year, your debt accumulates, and you have no way to pay it back. Unless your intention is to default on the loan—effectively stealing from the one who lent to you at no interest rather than selling his grain—your only option is to repay your debt with your only means available, the labor of the people in your household.

The term of service that an Israelite could serve another under these conditions was six years. In the seventh, he had to be released (Exod 21:2). This is an upper limit; smaller debts could presumably be paid in less time. As far as the nature of the labor involved, it is important to note that the Israelite slave would be doing essentially the same thing that he would have been doing in his family’s household: Working fields and shepherding flocks. Under the care of a wealthier family, he would have been better fed, better clothed, and able to engage in work that was probably more rewarding. Then, at the end of their six-year term,[4] Israelite slaves had two options:

They could return to their household. If this is chosen, the master would be obligated to follow Deuteronomy 15:12–14:
If your brother, a Hebrew man or a Hebrew woman, sells himself to you, he shall serve you six years, and in the seventh year you shall let him go free from you. And when you let him go free from you, you shall not let him go empty-handed. You shall furnish him liberally out of your flock, out of your threshing floor, and out of your winepress. As the LORD your God has blessed you, you shall give to him.

The Israelite slave was not expected to start over from scratch after he was released from service. Rather, his now former master, who had benefitted from his labor, was to provide him with “liberal” amounts of livestock, grain, and wine, in order to get him back on his feet, as part of Israel’s legal provision for the poor.

They could remain permanently in the house of their master. Exodus 21:5–6 reads as follows:
But if the slave plainly says,[5] ‘I love my master, my wife, and my children: I will not go out free,’ then his master shall bring him to God, and he shall bring him to the door or doorpost. And his master shall bore his ear through with an awl, and he shall be his slave forever.

Deuteronomy 15:16, which addresses the same situation, adds an additional reason why a slave might choose to stay: "Since he is well-off with you."

What is interesting about these passages is that they speak indirectly to the nature of Israelite debt-servitude, and speak to the reality that, for some (or many) Israelite slaves, life could have been significantly better with their masters than it would have been in their own households. There is a real “love” for the master, akin to the love for his own family (i.e., his wife and children).[6] If the slave desires to stay, then he and his master are to go to a public area (“to God” probably designates the tabernacle or temple), and to put a mark on his ear that would serve as permanent evidence that the servant publically declared his desire to remain with his master, and that he was not being exploited by being held against his will.

The passage at the beginning of Exodus 21 continues with a stipulation that requires some comment. Speaking of the debt slave introduced in verses 1 and 2, we read, “If he comes in single, he shall go out single; if he comes in married, then his wife shall go out with him. If his master gives him a wife and she bears him sons or daughters, the wife and her children shall be her master’s and he shall go out alone” (Exod 21:3–4). At first blush, this seems misogynistic, denying the woman of the same rights given to the man in the previous verse. A man can be released after six years, but not a woman? This is emphatically not what is going on here. Notice that the woman in question was given to the male slave as a wife during his time as a slave. This woman would have been a female slave.[7] What this passage is teaching is that her term of service is not to be cut short simply because her husband’s ended before hers. In such a case, his options would have been either to wait for her to be freed or to ransom her, perhaps with some of the provisions that he received at the time of his release. As for the children, these would all be young, a maximum of five years old (assuming the woman entered service a year after the man and was married to him immediately), an age at which they need their mother, not their father. This law probably would have influenced how often marriage between slaves would have taken place and would have prevented women from foolishly entering into a marriage only to gain an early manumission.

The following paragraph also prevents a puzzling case:
When a man sells his daughter as a slave, she shall not go out as the male slaves do [that is, she shall not be released from her service at the end of six years]. If she does not please her master, who has designated her for himself, then he shall let her be redeemed. He shall have no right to sell her to a foreign people since he has broken faith with her. If he designates her for his son, he shall deal with her as with a daughter. If he takes another wife to himself, he shall not diminish her food, her clothing, or her marital rights. And if he does not do these three things for her, she shall go out for nothing, without payment of money (Exod 21:7–11).

It is clear that the woman in this passage has been given in marriage to the master’s household. The master here has either “designated her for himself” or “for his son” (vv. 8–9), and verse 10 gives the condition, “If he takes another wife for himself . . .” In ancient Near Eastern marriages, the groom customarily gave the bride’s family a bride price.[8] Here, forgiveness of debt would serve as that gift. The reason, then, that this female “slave”[9] is not given release is because marriage is for life, and doesn’t magically end after six years. If the notion of a father giving her daughter in marriage to man in order to pay off debt seems disturbing, it should be remembered that the practice of arranged marriage has been the norm in many cultures, even in our own day, and often results in marriages that are just as happy and fulfilled as ones that are not arranged. At any rate, such an objection is not to the institution of Israelite debt-slavery per se, but to the practice of arranged marriages.

The law under question is geared exclusively towards the protection of the woman’s rights, to protect her from exploitation at the hands of a more powerful family. Should the master desire to divorce her (i.e., “if she does not please her master”),[10] he is not permitted to sell her to a foreigner (v. 16). Since it was illegal to sell an Israelite to another Israelite (see above), only foreigners are mentioned here. In other words, the master couldn’t circumvent Exod 21:16 by attempting to turn a profit in selling his ex-wife to a non-Israelite. No Israelite could deprive another of their membership in the covenant people of God. Instead, he was to permit her to be redeemed (v. 8)—a provision which only needs to be specified here since a marriage is in view.

The second situation, mentioned in verse 9, is that if she has been given to in marriage to his son. Here she must be treated as a full-daughter, which means that her children would be legitimate heirs with full inheritance rights, not second-generation servants. In case it isn’t obvious, this was a very big deal.

Finally, in the event that a second wife is taken (polygamy was sometimes practiced in Israel, always with disastrous results), her status is not to be lower than the second wife. Any violation of the terms stated here result in her “freedom” (lit., her “going out”), and her family’s debt is forgiven, even if the marriage was short-lived.

If the idea of debt servitude strikes us a primitive, we need to remember that many of the options that are available to us today were not available in the ancient world, for better or for worse. And how preferable is the modern situation, where the poor grow ever poorer as debt grows and grows, until the only option for the poor becomes bankruptcy, which not only destroys the debtor’s access to credit, but also amounts to breaking one’s oath at best, and thievery at worst? This system in ancient Israel was intended to maintain incentives to lend to the poor, where interest is not an option and when the risk of default werenoften quite high. These are the kinds of situations addressed by Old Testament law in a society that differed greatly from our own. It isn’t a matter of whether these options would be good for us, living in twenty-first century America, but whether or not these were good for the ancient Israelites, living from 1200 to 586 BC.

Difficult Passages

The laws that we have considered so far have shown a high degree of concern for the rights of Israelite slaves, and for their dignity as human beings created in the image of God. Later in Exodus 21, however, there are two other laws that are much more liable to confusion. Yet, as we will see, any offense taken at these laws owes more to our unfamiliarity in reading biblical law than it does with anything inherently immoral the laws themselves. We will consider the latter law first, since a good understanding of it will have a bearing on how we understand the former.

In Exod 21:25–26, we read, “When a man strikes the eye of his slave, male or female, and destroys it, he shall let the slave go free because of his eye. If he knocks out the tooth of his slave, male or female, he shall let the slave go free because of his tooth.” The first thing to note is that many Old Testament laws begin with “when” or “if” clauses (i.e., conditional clauses, Heb. kî or ʾīm): “If or when someone does x, then do y.” An application of very simple logic reveals that such laws in no way condone what is contained in the when/if clause. If I say, “If a man robs this liquor store, don’t shoot him on sight; call the cops,” I’m not condoning the robbing of liquor stores. The situation is exactly the same with laws like this one. In fact, Jesus seems to address one such misreading of Deuteronomy 24 by the Pharisees in Matthew 19. Exodus 2 in no way sanctions physical mistreatment of slaves.

What this verse does do is provide release from servitude for any serious physical injury caused by a master. The mention of eyes and teeth here does not restrict this provision to only these two kinds of injuries, any more than it does in the “eye for eye/tooth for tooth” principle given in the immediately preceding verses (vv. 23–25).[11]

Exodus 21:20–21 says, “When a man strikes his slave, male or female, with a rod and the slave dies under his hand, he shall be avenged. But if the slave survives a day or two, he is not to be avenged, for the slave is his money.” Does this give masters impunity to beat a slave within an inch of his life? Absolutely not. As was the case with the previous example (vv. 25–26), we should not read an implied approval into the presence of a conditional (i.e., an if) clause. Actually, by allowing the slave’s death to be “avenged,” the law is treating the slave’s life on par with any other free Israelite.[12] Only eight verses earlier, murder is established as a capital crime (v. 12). The slave’s life is of no less value than his master’s.

Or is it? The truly tricky part of this law is verse 21. The ESV reads, "If the slave survives a day or two, he is not to be avenged." This, however, is a misleading way to translate this verse, because the Hebrew literally reads, “If, in a day or two, he stands up . . .”[13] The NIV is helpful here: “If the slave recovers after a day or two.” That, in itself, doesn’t help us very much, until we take into account the law that immediately precedes this one in verses 18–19. This describes a situation that arises when two men fight and one is injured so that he cannot work. Verse 19 concludes with language very similar to our slave law in verse 21: “Then, if the man rises again and walks outdoors with his staff, he who struck him shall be clear.” So, the scenario painted here is of a slave owner who beats his slave but does not kill him, and this law prohibits a family member from exacting vengeance on the master for the mistreatment.[14]

But that’s not all. Recall that, according to verses 26 and 27 (see above), a master who beats his slave is required to release him. This would have been the case here, and explains well the otherwise troubling way this law ends: “For he is his money.”[15] In other words, the slave is his master’s capital investment (his “money”), and losing him under the law of Exod 21:26–27 is punishment enough; it hits him in the wallet.

The most difficult passage on slavery in Old Testament law is Leviticus 25:44–46:

As for your male and female slaves whom you may have: you may buy male and female slaves from among the nations that are around you. You may also buy from among the strangers who sojourn with you and their clans that are with you, who have been born in your land, and they may be your property. You may bequeath them to your sons after you to inherit as a possession forever. You may make slaves of them, but over your brothers the people of Israel you shall not rule, one over another ruthlessly.

Having observed the lengths to which the law goes to protect the rights and dignity of Israelites who sold themselves into slavery in order to pay off debt, it now seems that the same law denies these things to foreigners. There is a degree of truth to this. Most strikingly, while Exodus 21:16 forbade a slave trade within Israel, this passage permits Israelites to engage in the slave trade of other nations. Individuals acquired through these means do become “property,”[16] which can be passed down from generation to generation.

But this law does not exist in isolation, either from other passages regarding the treatment of foreigners, or from the culture to which it was given. It is quite easy to criticize a law from over 3,000 years ago from the comforts and standards of a twenty-first century liberal capitalist democracy, with a worldwide community that is more or less concerned about human rights. But we must remember that this was not the world into which God spoke when he gave Leviticus 25. Ancient Israel was a tiny part of a much larger world, were a robust and often ruthless international slave trade existed. Of course, one option would have been for God to have forbidden his people to participate in it, and that would have meant that those slaves would have been sold in other lands, where there was no understanding of the basic dignity of all human beings created in the image of God and where slaves were less than full persons. Such individuals would have often found themselves in conditions similar to the Israelites in Egypt, as human chattel forced into backbreaking and degrading labor, with no Sabbath rest, and no laws defending the worth of the sojourner and the alien, let alone those purchased from slave caravans.

The Old Testament’s emphasis on the loving treatment of the foreigner is apparent from several important passages. Leviticus 19:33–34 instructs, “When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God.” Notice that this verse clearly extends the category of “sojourner” to slaves, using the same word (gēr) to refer to the status of the Hebrews when they lived in Egypt (also Deut 10:19). We should not miss the language: He or she shall not be “wronged” (oppressed), and he shall be treated as a native Israelite. In fact, the same wording is used for this person as is used for the “neighbor” in the second greatest commandment, quoted by Jesus (Matt 19:199; 22:39; Mark 12:31; also Rom 13:9; Gal 5:14; Jas 2:8), which is found originally in Lev 19:18: “You shall love him as yourself.”[17]

It should also be noted that the land of Israel was given to tribal clans for perpetual ownership (Joshua 14–21; Num 26:52–56), and therefore could not be permanently sold outside the clan to whom it was designated. This is why land—even land that had been sold—was to be returned to its owners in the years of liberty (i.e., every forty-ninth year; Lev 25:13–17, 23).[18] The reason for this was to prevent the oppression of poorer Israelites by opportunistic landowners. Refusal to observe these laws becomes the object of prophetic rebuke later in Israel’s history (e.g., 1 Kgs 21:3; Isa 5:8; Mic 2:1–2). For this reason, foreigners could not be easily assimilated into Israel’s agrarian and pastoralist socio-economic system, although there are plenty of examples in the Old Testament of non-natives who were. Examples of this include Rahab, Ruth, and Uriah the Hittite (who lived within eyeshot of David’s palace), as well as lesser-known examples such as Obed-edom the Gittite (2 Samuel 6), Ittai the Gittite (2 Samuel 15), and Araunah the Jebusite (2 Samuel 24). Given these considerations, we can see how slave purchase provided a place for individuals enslaved in other countries to be integrated into Israelite society, and to be blessed by the Lord as a part of the covenant community. God constantly reminds the Israelites that they are not to mistreat slaves as they were mistreated in Egypt (Exod 22:21; 23:9; Lev 19:34; Deut 5:15; 10:19; 15:15; 16:12; 24:18, 22). And we should also bear in mind that nothing in the prohibition against returning fugitive slaves (Deut 23:15–16) restricts the law to Hebrew debt servants.

Slavery in the New Testament

The situation with New Testament slave texts is significantly different than what we find in the Old, and it is not hard to see why. As noted earlier, the Old Testament law was given by God to govern his people Israel, and it expresses the moral will of God for a specific people at a specific time and for a specific purpose. It was given in order to provide the national law for Israel, a theocratic nation under the sovereign rule of God. The New Testament, by way of contrast, speaks to God’s people, the church, as subjects living within an already-existing political entity (the Roman Empire), whose laws and norms were the result of human political philosophy, not God’s moral will. In the New Testament, God is not at work establishing a political entity, but is rather redeeming a people for himself, called out from every nation. Accordingly, God gives his people instructions on how to live in already existing social structure.

Christian slaves are addressed directly in Ephesians 6:5–9, Colossians 3:22–25, and 1 Peter 2:18–25. In all these passages, emphasis is placed on obedience towards masters and serving faithfully as an act of obedience to God. Ephesians 6:9 and Colossians 4:1 also address masters, both stressing fair and just treatment, and an understanding that we all have the same “master” in heaven, the Lord Jesus.[19] The passage in first Peter is geared specifically towards slaves who are treated unjustly by apparently non-Christian masters, and is part of Peter’s exhortation to endure suffering in the footsteps of Jesus.

The short book of Philemon is addressed to a Christian slave owner whose escaped slave, Onesimus, had come into contact with Paul while Paul was in prison. During the course of their interaction, Onesimus became a Christian and had been discipled by Paul. Paul then sent Onesimus back to Philemon, carrying the letter, in which Paul tactfully exhorts Philemon to receive Onesimus back, “no longer as a bondservant, but more than a bondservant, as a beloved brother” (16). Not only does Paul not want Philemon to punish Onesimus; he wants him to accept him as a full member of the Christian community, and even promises to pay from his own pocket for any of the damages Onesimus’ flight may have cost Philemon (18–19). Due to the diplomatic way in which Paul makes his requests in this letter, it is not entirely clear if Paul is urging Philemon to free Onesimus. But he does seem to imply this when he states that he wishes Onesimus would remain available to him in order to help in his ministry (13–14).[20] Moreover, it has been argued (persuasively, in my judgment) that reception of Onesimus “as a beloved brother . . . both in the flesh and in the Lord” amounts to a direct request for his manumission.[21]

Greco-Roman Slavery

In order to address some of the questions that arise from these passages, we need to observe some aspects of the deeply-embedded and exceedingly common institution of slavery in the Greco-Roman world. Some estimates place the number of slaves in Rome itself at up to 90 percent of the city’s total population.[22] In this culture, people became slaves either to pay debt, because they had been captured in war, or because they had been born into the slave class. An individual could also sell himself into slavery in order to live an easier life than he had as a freedperson, and even to advance socially.[23] Following the precedent set by earlier Greek law, slaves differed from freedpersons in four primary ways:[24]

1. They could not represent themselves in legal matters.
2. They were subject to seizure and arrest in ways that freedpersons were not.
3. Their occupation was determined by their master.
4. They had to live where their master decided.
   
   

In Roman society, slaves could own property and other slaves, they were not enslaved based on the color of their skin (it was not a racist institution), and slavery was often temporary. While there were certainly very degrading and dehumanizing forms of slavery in the Roman world (e.g., mining), many served in more dignified positions, such as tutors, professors, estate managers, bookkeepers, and doctors, or as artisans. Roman Emperors used slaves to manage imperial estates and often placed them in charge of important tasks, such as lighting, tailoring, wine-keeping and tasting, and cooking. The slaves addressed in Ephesians 6 and Colossians 3, as well as Onesimus in Philemon, would have been household slaves, as is evident by the placement of these texts amongst advice to household members (i.e., husbands, wives, and children).

The conditions of a slave’s life depended highly on the disposition of their master. Some were brutally abused, while others enjoyed very kind treatment, such as was shown by the centurion who sought Jesus on behalf of his slave who had fallen sick (Luke 7:1–11). Of course, fair treatment of slaves was not purely altruistic; masters benefitted from slaves who were content.[25]

The New Testament Response

As modern readers, it is common to wonder why the New Testament writers don’t speak more forcefully against slavery. Many feel justified in criticizing Paul, or Peter, or Jesus, for that matter, for not being staunch abolitionists. However, such objections reflect modern sensitivities and a lack of appreciation for both the historical realities in the first century and the transformative nature of the gospel.[26] If we are to gain understanding, we need to allow these texts to speak first into the culture to which they were originally written. The possibility of wholesale abolition was not available until much later in history, and then it was the result of the theological convictions of Christians, based on the very texts in question.

Nevertheless, it should be noted that at least twice in the New Testament, the institution and practice of slavery is condemned. In 1 Timothy 1:10, Paul lists “enslavers” (Gk. andrapodistai) among “the lawless and disobedient, the ungodly and sinners,” who practice “what is contrary to sound doctrine.” In Revelation 18:13, the trading in “slaves, that is, human souls” is listed among the evils of Rome (called “Babylon the great” in v. 2).

For us, living in a post-Enlightenment, “post-Braveheart world,” freedom appears to be a basic value—indeed the fundamental right without which happiness and fulfillment cannot be attained. But we need to realize that this is a modern conviction that may have not been obvious or desirable at earlier points in human history. Moreover, it was well-understood that freedom in the Roman world often meant a lower standard of living for freed slaves. The Stoic philosopher Epictetus (himself once a slave) writes of the common experience of freed slaves:

“'If I shall be set free, immediately it is all happiness, I care for no man, I speak to all as an equal and, like to them, I go where I choose, I come from any place I choose, and I go where I choose.' Then he is set free; and forthwith having no place where he can eat, he looks for some man to flatter, some one with whom he shall sup: then he either works with his body and endures the most dreadful things; and if he can obtain a manager, he falls into a slavery much worse than his former slavery; or even if he is become rich, being a man without any knowledge of what is good, he loves some little girl, and in his happiness laments and desires to be a slave again. He says, 'What evil did I suffer in my state of slavery? Another clothed me, another supplied me with shoes, another fed me, another looked after me in sickness; and I did only a few services for him. But now a wretched man, what things I suffer, being a slave of many instead of to one.'”[27]

We must also realize that the early Christians did not enjoy the kind of political influence they do today. They lived under a powerful authoritarian state, and were virtually powerless to change government policies. Were any of the New Testament writers to incite slaves to rise up against their masters, they would essentially have been compelling them to death, probably by crucifixion, as was the fate of the 6,000 who revolted with Spartacus a century earlier. There were also laws restricting manumission, such as the lex Fufia Caninia, instituted by Caesar Augustus in 2 BC, which set limits on the number of slaves that masters could free: only two out of three, half of between four and ten, and a third of between eleven and thirty. Nevertheless, Paul does have words for those slaves who were able to gain their freedom: “Avail yourself of the opportunity” (1 Cor 7:21).

The most important dimension to the New Testament’s stance on slavery, however, is the gospel’s transformative power, beginning in the hearts of individuals. Application of the ethics of the kingdom of God to the community of believers resulted in a counter-culture that transcended, and in some ways abolished, social hierarchy. This is exemplified in texts such as Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (also Col 3:11). Jesus himself assumed the role of a slave, and this in turn influences the way Christians related to one another. Several texts that employ slave language are illustrative of this important point:

After washing his disciples feet, Jesus taught his disciples: “Do you understand what I have done to you? You call me teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them” (John 13:12–17).

“You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matt 20:25–29).

“Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Phil 2:5–11).

The ethic taught in these passages would have applied to masters’ conduct towards slaves as well as slaves’ towards their masters.

Another dimension to the radical transformation that takes place within the Christian community is the leveling of all individuals to the level of brother and sister. This language is so common in the New Testament that we pass by it without thinking twice, but there would have been profound implications for slaves and masters regarding one another as brothers and loving one another with sincere “brotherly affection” (Rom 12:10; 2 Pet 1:7), as Christ first loved us. Indeed, Paul’s appeal to Philemon on behalf of Onesimus is nothing less than revolutionary, that he might “have him back forever, no longer as a slave, but more than a slave, as a beloved brother—especially to me, but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord” (Phlm 15b–16). The appeal (which seems strange to us) to “greet one another with a holy kiss” (Rom 16:16; 1 Cor 16:20; 2 Cor 13:12; 1 Thess 5:26) is another strong example of the affection and egalitarian spirit that pervaded the early church. Marianne Thompson sums up the situation well: “It should be noted that for Paul manumission was not the highest good or goal; belonging to Christ was—and that had implications for both the master and the slave. If a Christian owned a slave, the highest duty to which that master could be called was not to set the other free but to love the slave with the selfgiving love of Christ.”[28]

Although for centuries they were relatively powerless to change Roman society from the top down, the early Christians changed it from the bottom up. Following the example of Christ, they plowed a counter-culture based not on worldly social stratification, but on oneness within the body of Christ. Even leadership within the church was to be based on Christian maturity, rather than connections and impressive worldly credentials. The second century church father Ignatius of Antioch even makes an intriguing reference to an individual with familiar name who served as the bishop of Ephesus: “I received, therefore, your whole multitude in the name of God, through Onesimus, a man of inexpressible love, and your bishop in the flesh, whom I pray you by Jesus Christ to love, and that you would all seek to be like him.”[29]

Notes:

[1] The preface of the English Standard Version, for example, notes, with respect to both the Hebrew term ʿebed and the Greek doulos, “A particular difficulty is presented when words in biblical Hebrew and Greek refer to ancient practices and institutions that do not correspond directly to those in the modern world” (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version [Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2001], x).

[2] Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School (Winona Lake, IN:
Eisenbrauns, 1992), 272 n. 5; Dale Patrick, Old Testament Law (Atlanta: John Knox, 1985), 133. Some commentators, following Jewish tradition (Gittin 45a), restrict this to foreign slaves who have fled for refuge to Israel, claiming that the wording of verse 17 suggests this (Peter C. Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy [NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976], 300). I remain unconvinced of this. There is no clear designation of the slave in question as a foreigner, as is the case in Lev 25:44, the only passage in the Mosaic law that speaks unambiguously of foreign slaves. Moreover, there are a variety of reasons why an escaped Israelite slave may wish to dwell in a town not his own. For example, perhaps the household he had served in was more than a day’s journey from his home. The Hebrew actually reads, “. . . in one of your gates (šeʿāreykā), wherever is good to him,” suggesting that he is seeking justice for having been wronged (justice was often administered in city gates, which had various chambers built into them for the purpose of public legal transactions.

[3] Martha Roth, “The Laws of Hammurabi,” in Context of Scripture Volume 2: Monumental Inscriptions from the Biblical World (ed. William W. Hallo and K. Lawson Younger, Jr.; Leiden: Brill, 2003), 2.131 §16–19.

[4] It is unclear whether manumission was to be at the beginning or the end of the seventh year.

[5] Here, the Hebrew employs an infinitive absolute, which is a verbal form that intensifies the main verb or “forcefully presents the certainty of a completed event” (Bruce K. Waltke and Michael O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax [Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2004] § 35.3.1b; Paul Joüon, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew [trans. and rev. T. Muraoka; Subsidia Biblica 14; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1993] § 123j). This is the same form that is used in the serpent’s initial question to Eve in Gen 3:1: “Did God really say?" The reason this is important here is that it stresses the necessity of determining whether or not a slave truly desires to stay. This would have been the responsibility of the town judges to decide. Here we have one of the many reasons why there is so much stress in the Old Testament on using judges who will not take bribes or otherwise pervert justice.

[6] The mention of a wife and children here reflects the situation covered in the previous verses 3–4, where the slave is given a wife during his term of service.

[7] Would a well-off Israelite give his birth daughter to one of his slaves as a wife?

[8] For example, Abraham’s servant gives Rebekah’s family “costly ornaments” in exchange for her hand in marriage to Isaac (Gen 24:53).

[9] The translation “slave” here is unfortunate. As noted above, this is not what the Hebrew text says. This is merely a translation of a social status designation—the female servant is an ʾāmâ.

[10] The sexual connotations associated with the language of “pleasing” come from our preconceptions and English innuendo, rather than any notion of this in ancient Hebrew culture. The expression used here is much more general.

[11] This principle, commonly referred to as lex talionis, is meant to restrict retaliation by limiting it to punishments that fit the crime as exactly as possible. Jesus, in the New Testament, dismisses this as the standard for the people of his kingdom, and it is worth quoting him in detail: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you” (Matt 5:38–42).

[12] One of the ways the law deals with murder is by allowing an “avenger of blood” (lit. “the redeemer of blood;” Heb. gōʾēl haddām) to avenge the death of his kinsman. Cities of refuge were provided in order to protect those merely guilty of manslaughter from blood “vengeance” in the interim period before their trial (see, e.g., Num 35:9–34).

[13] Heb., ʾak ʾim-yôm ʾô yômayim yaʿămōd.

[14] The implication may be that vengeance may be sought if the slave does not “stand” after two days. The law governing this would probably be “eye for an eye,” which is also in the immediate context (v. 24).

[15] The NIV has “the slave is his property.” This is absolutely incorrect and has often been used by the Bible’s critics who accuse this verse of saying something it does not say. The term in question (kesep) literally means “silver,” and always refers to currency, not property in either a general or specific sense. The standard Hebrew lexicon, HALOT, gives four definitions: “silver as metal,” “[silver] as material,” “in general, money,” and “misc.: pl. uncoined pieces of silver” (Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament [rev. Walter Baumgartner and Johann Jakob Stamm; trans. and ed. M. E. J. Richardson; Leiden: Brill, 1994] 2:490).

[16] The word used here is ʾăḥuzzâ, which is used elsewhere of property that is owned. Nonhuman examples would include land, usually as an enduring inheritance (e.g., Gen 17:8; 23:20; 47:11; 49:30; 50:13; Lev 25:33; Jos 22:19; Ps 2:8; Neh 11:3). This is in contrast to Exod 21:27, where we saw Hebrew slaves referred to as “money” (Heb. kesep, i.e., “capital investment”). Interestingly, in Ezekiel, God refers to himself as Israel’s ʾăḥuzzâ (Eze 44:28).

[17] Heb. ʾāhabtā lô kāmôkā.

[18] Heb. derûr, often translated “Jubilee.”

[19] The same Greek word (kurios) stands behind both “master” and “lord.”

[20] The lack of clarity on this and several other questions relevant to the intent of Philemon is due to the fact that Paul apparently wants Philemon to choose to do this of his own accord, and therefore avoids issuing explicit commands. Paul expects Philemon to conclude for himself what is the right course of action. At the same time, he also employs highly suggestive language to urge Philemon in the right direction. Paul even explains his strategy in verses 8 and 9: “Accordingly, though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do what is required, yet for love’s sake I prefer to appeal to you—I, Paul, an old man and now a prisoner also for Christ Jesus.” Also, in verse 14: “I preferred to do nothing without your consent in order that your goodness might not be by compulsion but of your own accord.” He does this by reminding Philemon of his love and charity towards “all the saints” (4–7); he states his desire to have Onesimus help him in his own ministry, calling him “my very heart” (12–14); he offers to personally bear the burden of any loss that Onesimus’ behavior may have cost him (17–20); he says he is “confident of [Philemon’s] obedience;” he tells him that he intends to visit after he is released from jail, implying that he will personally follow up on the situation; and he concludes with greetings from other prominent Christians, who are apparently aware of the situation and in agreement with Paul (23–24).

[21] Douglas J. Moo, The Letters to the Colossians and to Philemon (Pillar New Testament Commentary; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 373.

[22] A. A. Ruprecht, “Slave, Slavery, “in Dictionary of Paul and His Letters (ed. Gerald Hawthorne, Ralph P. Martin, and Daniel G. Reid; Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1993), 881–83.

[23] S. Scott Bartchy, ΜΑΛΛΟΝ ΧΡΗΣΑΙ: First-Century Slavery and the Interpretation of 1 Corinthians 7:21 (SBLDS 11; Missoula, MT: Society of Biblical Literature, 1972), 46.

[24] Harold W. Hoehner, Ephesians: An Exegetical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2002), 801. See also W. L. Westermann, “Slavery and the Elements of Freedom in Ancient Greece,” Quarterly Bulletin of the Polish Institute of Arts and Sciences in America 1 (Jan. 1943): 10–11.

[25] Hoehner (803) cites Pseudo-Aristotle Oeconomica 1.5.2–5 §§ 1344a.29–1344b.22; Columella Rei Rusticae 1.8–9, and Seneca Epistulae Morales 47.11 as writers who strongly urged masters to treat their slaves well.

[26] Steven Spielberg’s excellent film, Lincoln, contains an exchange between Abraham Lincoln and the abolitionist Thaddeus Stevens, in which Lincoln tempers Stevens’ unrealistic idealism: “The compass . . . will point you true north from where you’re standing, but it’s got no advice about the swamps, the deserts, the chasms that you’ll encounter along the way. If, in proceeding to your destination, you plunge ahead, heedless of obstacles, and achieve nothing more than to sink in a swamp, what’s the use of knowing true north?”

[27] Epictetus, Dissertationes 4.

[28] Marianne Meye Thompson, Colossians and Philemon (The Two Horizons New Testament Commentary; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 266.

[29] Ignatius, Letter to the Ephesians, chapter 1. It is not beyond dispute that this is the same Onesimus from Philemon, but several scholars of considerable standing have argued that this is precisely the case: F. F. Bruce, The Epistles to the Colossians, to Philemon, and to the Ephesians (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984), 202; C. F. D. Moule, The Epistles of Paul the Apostle to the Colossians and to Philemon (CGTC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 21; Peter Stuhlmacher, Der Brief an Philemon (4th ed.; EKKNT 18; NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener and Düsseldorf; Benzinger, 2004), 19.

by Doug Becker, Pastor of Theology

The purpose of this brief essay is to confront the idea that the New Testament concept of the death and resurrection of Jesus was somehow borrowed or influenced by pagan religious traditions. The attempt to account for the origins of Christian beliefs in this way is often called Jesus mythicism, and is commonly found in popular-level conspiracy theories such as those put forward in the 2007 film Zeitgeist, and in works by authors such as Richard Carrier and Robert Price. The claim is that religions which predate Christianity contain stories about dying and rising gods, and that the early Christians borrowed and adapted these stories, and that they provide the true origin of the belief in Jesus’ resurrection.

The roots of this idea were initially popularized in the late-nineteenth century by James Frazer in his book, The Golden Bough,[1] and are typically not accepted among scholars working in the field of ancient religion today. The New Testament scholar Bart Ehrman, who teaches at the University of North Carolina and is well-known critic of orthodox Christianity, wrote an entire book confronting the increasingly popular mythicist notion that Jesus did not even exist. In it, he offers the following comment on the complete lack of mythicist scholars working in the field:

At a reputable university, of course, professors cannot teach simply anything. They need to be academically responsible and reflect the views of scholarship. That is probably why there are no mythicists—at least to my knowledge—teaching religious studies at accredited universities or colleges in North America or Europe. It is not that mythicists are lacking in hard-fought views and opinions or that they fail to mount arguments to back them up. It is that their views are not widely seen as academically respectable by members of the academy. That in itself does not make the mythicists wrong. It simply makes them marginal.”[2]

Mythicist theories have not gained acceptance in the scholarly community.

Those who seek to apply mythicists ideas to the resurrection story usually do so by arguing that a belief in dying and rising gods in the ancient world was somehow borrowed by the early Christians and applied to Jesus. For them, this serves as an explanation of how the early church came to believe that Jesus had been raised bodily from the dead—it isn’t because it actually happened; it’s because the early Christians were recycling myths from pagan religions that contain stories about deities who experienced life after death. There are several major problems with this line of reasoning, each of which contains either lazy scholarship, extraordinarily bad logic, historical ignorance, appeal to weak parallels from ancient religious traditions, equivocation of key concepts such as “crucifixion” or “resurrection,” or all of the above.

General Problems with Resurrection Mythicism

Death is Not an Uncommon Problem
First and foremost, we need to ask whether it is surprising that any religion, old or new, should address the problem of death. The reality of suffering in general and death in particular is such a common problem throughout humanity that it goes without saying. Why would we think it unexpected, then, that ancient religions contain stories that portray their gods as somehow victorious over these things? The idea of life after death is simply not novel enough to warrant the conclusions drawn from it by mythicists. Is the only way to account for this idea across human cultures to say that borrowing has taken place? Would we argue that movies such as Beetlejuice, Ghost, the Friday the 13th series, or Coco are derivative of Christianity, simply because their characters experience life beyond the grave? Of course not. Why, then, should Christianity be regarded as derived from dying and rising myths, simply because it addresses this idea? It is worth pointing out also that some of these myths are as distant in the past from the historical Jesus as these movies are into the future![3]

Life After Death Does Not Equal Resurrection
The concept of resurrection as the future hope for believers, expressed in Christianity, has its roots in Judaism and is profoundly unique in the ancient world. The New Testament is very clear that Jesus was raised bodily from the dead in human history. After his resurrection, Jesus offers various “proofs” to his disciples to help their faith, most notably inviting them to touch him and eating with them. Note Jesus’ statement to his disciples in Luke 24:39: “A spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” This is not to deny that Jesus’ body was in some ways different after his resurrection. But nevertheless, the Christian story is that Jesus was not raised in merely some “spiritual” sense (whatever that would mean), but that he was was physically raised by the Father in real-world history. Resurrection, in Christian theology, refers to something that happens to the body after life after death.[4] By contrast, all of the alleged parallels offered by dying-and-rising-god mythicists either take place in a mythical realm, or are simply examples of divine figures finding good fortune in the afterlife. Only in Judaism and Christianity is there belief in a bodily resurrection, and only in Christianity is there someone who experiences this before the last day.[5] It is not Jesus’ ascension into heaven that is unique to Christianity, it is his resurrection.[6] In order to circumvent this problem, mythicists must use over-generalizing language (e.g., “dying and rising gods”) in order to establish parallels. But the point remains: if we’re not talking about physical resurrection in history, we’re not talking about Christianity, or anything like it. N. T. Wright observes,

As far as the ancient pagan world was concerned, the road to the underworld ran only one way. Death was all-powerful; one could neither escape it in the first place nor break its power once it had come. Everybody knew there was in fact no answer to death. The ancient pagan world then divided broadly into those who, like Homer’s shades, might have wanted a new body but knew they couldn’t have one and those who, like Plato’s philosophers, didn’t want one because being a disembodied soul was far better. . . . Resurrection meant bodies. We cannot emphasize this too strongly, not least because much modern writing continues, most misleadingly, to use the word resurrection as a virtual synonym for life after death in the popular sense.[7]

The very notion of dying and rising gods in antiquity is a matter of significant debate among scholars. Jonathan Z. Smith, of the University of Chicago, begins his highly influential article on this subject by commenting, “The category of dying and rising gods, once a major topic of scholarly investigation, must now be understood to have been largely a misnomer based on imaginative reconstructions and exceedingly late or highly ambiguous texts.”[8] Later, he adds,

All the deities that have been identified as belonging to the class of dying and rising deities can be subsumed under the two larger classes of disappearing deities or dying deities. In the first case, the deities return but have not died; in the second case, the gods die but do not return. There is no unambiguous instance in the history of religions of a dying and rising deity.[9]

It should be noted that Tryggve Mettinger has attempted to restore the category of dying and rising gods as an appropriate label for some ancient Near Eastern deities.[10]

Unconvincing Parallels

Another major problem with attempting to trace the origin of Christ’s resurrection from myths about dying and rising gods arises when we consider the myths on their own terms. The first order of business for anyone investigating the claims of mythicism should be to read the original sources—not the selective retelling of them by mythicists, but the stories themselves. Mythicist claims should not be accepted without references to the texts that they claim to support their views. When we examine the various mythologies, the alleged parallels begin to break down before our eyes. In what follows, I give a short rundown of the gods who are usually placed in the dying and rising category, and a brief response to each.

Before doing so, it is worth noting that one particularly unfortunate tactic used by mythicists is what has been called the terminology fallacy, where “events in the lives of the mythical gods . . . are expressed using Christian terminology in order subtly to manipulate viewers [or readers] into accepting that the same events in the life of Jesus also happened in the lives of mythical gods.”[11] And so, it is common to hear mythological elements described as baptisms, virgin births, crucifixions, resurrections, and so on. For example, atheist Richard Carrier deceptively claims that, in Mesopotamian mythology, the goddess Inanna was “crucified (nailed up) during her mythical descent into the underworld.[12] But in the text to which Carrier is referring, the Sumerian version of “Inanna’s Descent to the Netherworld,” Inanna is not crucified; she is killed, and her already dead body is hung on a hook for three days and three nights.[13] Crucifixion was a much later form of execution, not a means of displaying an already dead body. Likewise, Acharya S., the main consultant for the Zeitgeist movie, attempts justify her “crucifixion” language in the following way:

When it is asserted that Horus (or Osiris) was “crucified” it should be kept in mind that it was not part of the Horus/Osiris myth that the murdered god was held down and nailed on a cross, as we perceive the meaning of “crucified” to be, based on the drama we believe allegedly took place during Christ’s purported passion. Rather in one myth Osiris is torn in pieces before being raised from the dead, while Horus is stung by a scorpion prior to his resurrection. However, Egyptian deities, including Horus, were depicted in cruciform with arms extended or outstretched, as in various images that are comparable to crucifixes.[14]

This apparently justifies referring to any deity depicted with outstretched arms as having been crucified, even when those images have nothing to do with the deity’s purported death! If this is the standard we are going to use to identify crucifixions, then we have a much bigger issue than the one identified by mythicists, because it just so happens that plenty of people stretch out their arms for all kinds of reasons. Kate Winslet, being held by Leonardo DiCaprio on the bow of the Titanic, was crucified! Willem Dafoe, being shot to death in Vietnam in Platoon, was crucified! Even Bane, while fighting Batman in the batcave was crucified! Can anyone say Zeigeist sequel (ca-ching!)? Excuse my sarcasm, but the point is that we need to be very careful when we encounter Christian terms being used to make similarities to pagan myths sound closer than they really are.

Specific Examples

            I would now like to illustrate some of the principles I have just discussed by giving brief descriptions of some of the more common ancient divine figures who are often cited by mythicists as examples of dying and rising gods whose stories influenced the narratives about Jesus’ death and resurrection. Of course, there are others (there are always others!), but these, in my reading and experience, are the most common, and the most credible. Feel free to email me with questions you might have about deities that are not mentioned here.

Adonis

Greek traditions indicate that Adonis was originally worshiped as a god of vegetation in Byblos in the first millennium BC. Adonis is the Greek version of the ancient Mesopotamian shepherd-god Dumuzi (see below). His nearby shrine was destroyed by Emperor Constantine in the fourth century AD. An ancient mythical compendium from the second century AD, Bibliotheca, claims he is the son of a Syrian king named Theias (possibly Toi of 2 Sam 8:9–10?). According to the myth, the infant Adonis is locked in a chest by Aphrodite and given to her sister Persephone, who refuses to return her. Zeus settles the dispute by allowing Adonis to spend part of the year in the upper-world (with Aphrodite) and the other part in the underworld (with Persephone). In another account, Adonis is killed by a boar and Aphrodite commemorates him with a flower. In the first story, Adonis does not die. In the second, he does not rise.

Attis

The mythology of this Phyrgian deity does not give a hint of resurrection. In the Phrygian version, he is killed by being castrated (possibly by himself!). In another story, he is killed by a boar sent by Zeus. The notion that he was raised comes from a questionable interpretation of a later festival dedicated to the goddess Cybele, who was Attis’ consort (and much more commonly worshiped). Part of this week was called Dies Sanguinis, the “Day of Blood,” which was followed on the next day by the Hilaria, the “Day of Rejoicing,” during which Attis was celebrated as reborn. While this is a concept similar to resurrection, the problem with seeing Christianity as being derived from this is that there is no evidence of this festival until it is mentioned in the Chronography of 354, from—you guessed it—354 AD. There is no mention of Attis’ “resurrection” whatsoever until the work, De errore profanarum religionum, by Julius Firmicus Maternus (ca. 346 AD). Lynn Roller, of the University of California, even notes that “in the fourth century CE, the cult of Cybele and Attis formed a conspicuous rallying point for that part of the Roman aristocracy that had not been converted to Christianity.”[15] In other words, the celebration of Attis as risen from the dead is first attested in the same century that upper class Romans turned to it as a viable alternative to following Jesus of Nazareth (what a coincidence! >cough<).

Baal

Although Baal is known throughout the Old Testament as a title for a variety of foreign gods, by far, the most detailed information we have about his worship comes to us from an epic story preserved on six clay tablets found in the ancient city of Ugarit (modern day Ras Shamra in Syria), which was destroyed at the end of the Bronze Age in approximately 1200 BC.

Among the peoples that lived in the ancient Near East, Baal was considered a storm deity who brought rain, often depicted riding on clouds, brandishing a battle-axe in one hand and lightning in the other. In the Baal myth, Baal, after slaying his rival Yam (the god of the sea) and establishing his rule, ventures to the underworld to challenge Mot, the god of death. It is unclear what happens next. Immediately before the confrontation, Baal copulates with a heifer, who conceives a male child whom Baal clothes. Unfortunately, the tablet is damaged here and over forty lines are missing immediately after this. When the text resumes, El, the chief deity, is receiving news of Baal’s death. Has Baal actually died, or has he fooled Mot into killing his heifer-offspring instead?[16] We cannot be sure. What we do know is that the warrior goddess Anat vengefully slaughters Mot, and soon after Baal returns and slays his enemies.

Scholars disagree whether or not Baal can be considered a dying and rising god. Mark Smith, who produced the most authoritative and influential translation of the story described above, does not think so.[17] In 1998, Smith even wrote a lengthy article exposing the many inaccuracies and methodological problems associated with the dying and rising god hypothesis, not just regarding Baal, but with Adonis, Dumuzi, Heracles, Melqart, and Osiris as well.[18] Jonathan Z. Smith (mentioned above; no relation to Mark) concurs.[19] On the other hand, there are other reputable scholars, such as Dennis Pardee and John Day who are quite happy to consider Baal a dying and rising god based on this text.[20] What is clear, however, is that any attempt to draw a line between what happens to Baal in this myth and what happened to Jesus is an exercise in futility. The text, which is broken at several key points, is simply too ambiguous. At best this serves to illustrate the point made earlier, that victory over death (here quite literally) is an important achievement for a deity.

Osiris

Boasting a mythical tradition of over a thousand years, mythicists often attempt to connect the events surrounding this prominent Egyptian deity’s death with Jesus. According to the story, Osiris’ brother Seth kills him. The motive and details differ depending on the text. By the time we reach the New Kingdom (ca. 1550 BC), the claim is that Osiris had been dismembered and his body parts scattered throughout Egypt, with each part representing each of the forty-two nomes of Egypt.[21] His wife, Isis, then scours Egypt to collect his parts and reassembles him, with the help of some of the other gods, whose powers are needed for the process. This provides the mythical prototype for the Egyptian practice of mummification (in iconography, Osiris is always mummified). He then is able to conceive his son Horus, the earthly embodiment of whom are the Egyptian Pharaohs (upon coronation, a king received his “Horus name”). Osiris, on the other hand, lives on to rule Duat, the realm of the dead.[22] This is not a resurrection.

Dumuzi/Tammuz

Dumuzi was worshiped in ancient Mesopotamian cultures, usually as the god of shepherds. He was worshiped in a funerary cult, which sang hymns of mourning during the month that bore his name (which was adopted into the Hebrew calendar). This coincided with the dry and barren months of summer. Such mourning rituals continued far into the common era, and are even referenced in Ezekiel 8:14 as an “abomination.” In the Sumerian version of “Inanna’s Descent into the Underworld,” Dumuzi is condemned to death as a replacement for his wife Inanna, who chooses him for this fate when she sees him being entertained by servant girls while she is in the realm of the dead. He returns annually, restoring his wife’s powers of fertility. In the Sumerian poem, The Return of Dumuzid, Inanna allows him to spend half the year with her, restoring her powers of fertility, and half in the underworld, foreshadowing the almost identical compromise imposed by Zeus on Aphrodite and Persephone in the Adonis mythology. Other, more obscure texts, give different accounts of Dumuzi’s death.

            Interestingly, the only known individual from the ancient world who interpreted Dumuzi/Tammuz mourning rites as concluding with a resurrection was the early Alexandrian Christian theologian Origin, in his Selecta in Ezechielem. Otherwise, the Dumuzi myths were understood for what they were—stories of a god who was constantly given over to death, and whose was as much at home in the abode of the dead than he was in the land of the living.

Final Observations

This has been intended is a short response to the idea of resurrection mythicism, not a definitive refutation of all the ideas associated with it (and they are legion!). In grappling with these things, it is sometimes easy to lose track of the bottom line: The resurrection of Jesus is a true historical event. Our confidence in this does not come from our ability to refute mythicists, but from the testimony of the Scriptures and, to a lesser extent, from the historical evidence of the resurrection. Jesus’ crucifixion under Pontius Pilate; his burial in the tomb owned by Joseph of Arimathea; the empty tomb; his post-mortem appearances to the women, the eleven disciples, and to other eyewitnesses; the rise of early Christianity in Jerusalem where many of these things had taken place; the lack of embellishment and theologizing in the Gospels’ crucifixion and resurrection accounts; the use of women as the primary witnesses[23]—all these factors and more should establish a very high degree of confidence in the resurrection of Jesus (and perhaps should be the subject of a subsequent essay). My point, however, is that the attempted assault on Christian faith by mythicists should never be a reason for a believer to doubt the truthfulness of the resurrection. This is so, not only because the mythicists’ claims are exceedingly weak and disreputable among scholars, but because all of the positive reasons to believe in the resurrection remain, despite those claims.

            To many, the analysis of the mythicists position given above might be new and unfamiliar territory. For clarity and simplicity, I will end with a restatement of the main points.

1. Jesus mythicists are not representative of mainstream scholarship.
2. Fear of death and questions about the afterlife is common to virtually all human cultures. It is not surprising therefore that many ancient myths would address this subject matter and would portray some of their deities as having overcome death.
3. The New Testament concept of resurrection is a unique idea that has its roots in Judaism, not pagan mythology. True resurrection is something that happens to physical bodies. For this reason alone, none of the myths put forward by the mythicists are legitimate parallels to Christian belief.
4. The parallels that are often cited fail on several grounds.
   
   
   1. Life in the realm of the dead, or being permitted to vacillate between the realm of the dead and of the living, is not resurrection. This applies to Adonis, Osiris, and Dumuzi.
   2. The story of Attis rising from the dead postdates the Christian belief in the resurrection, and quite possibly arose as an alternative to it.
   3. The myth of Baal is ambiguous and is damaged at the relevant section, and we therefore lack sufficient knowledge of whether or not he died, let alone whether he was raised. And even if we say that he was, this is merely an example of a deity achieving victory over death (see point 2 above).
      
      
5. Mythicist claims do not sufficiently address the historical evidence for the resurrection of Jesus.

 
[1] James George Frazer, The Golden Bough (London: Macmillan, 1890).

[2] Bart D. Ehrman, Did Jesus Exist? The Historical Argument for Jesus of Nazareth (New York: HarperCollins, 2012), 220. I have chosen to cite Ehrman, not because I agree with all his views on Christianity and the New Testament, but to give an example of an unbelieving scholar who has written against the views of the Jesus mythicists. Ehrman has an entire section on dying and rising gods and their irrelevance to the resurrection of Jesus on pages 220–40 of his book. I do not agree with some of his reasons for rejecting mythicists claims, but his argument through page 230 is sound.

[3] For example, Dumizi and Osirus were both worshipped as early as the 2000’s BC. We tend to lump all things “ancient” or all things “BC” into one grand category, while in reality, history stretched back from Christ further into the past than it does forward to our own day. Consider the story in Genesis 12, where Abram flees to Egypt because of a famine in Canaan. At that time (ca. 2000 BC), many of the pyramids were already ancient monuments.

[4] “Life after life after death” is a phrase coined by N. T. Wright.

[5] Note Martha’s confusion over Jesus’ words about her brother Lazarus in John 11:23–14: “Jesus said to her, ‘Your brother will rise again.’ Martha said to him, ‘I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.’” Grounded in the Old Testament, this Jewish belief in a physical eschatological resurrection is also the background of several other passages in the Gospels (e.g., Matt 13:43; Mark 12:18–27; John 5:29).

[6] Perhaps this is why a mythicist such as Richard Carrier is so concerned to advance the spurious argument that Paul (who gives us our earliest example of the core Christian message about the resurrection in 1 Corinthians 15) did not preach a physical, but a “spiritual” resurrection.

[7] N. T. Wright, Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church (New York: HarperCollins, 2008), 35–36.

[8] Jonathan Z. Smith, “Dying and Rising Gods,” Encyclopedia of Religion (2d. ed., ed. Lindsay Jones; Detroit: Macmillan, 2005), 4:2535.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Tryggve N. D. Mettinger, The Riddle of the Resurrection: “Dying and Rising Gods” in the Ancient Near East(Stockholm: Almquist and Wiskell International, 2001).

[11] Mark W. Foreman, “Challenging the Zeitgeist Movie: Parallelomania on Steroid,” in Come Let Us Reason: New Essays in Christian Apologetics (ed. Paul Copan and William Lane Craig; Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 2012), 176.

[12] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014), Kindle location 1990.

[13] This happens only in the Sumerian version of the story (lines 164–72, available from The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature at http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/section1/tr141.htm). The text reads, “The afflicted woman was turned into a corpse. And the corpse was hung on a hook.” In the later Akkadian version, in which the deity is called Ishtar, she is simply “diseased” from head to toe (lines 69–75, Stephanie Dalley, “The Descent of Ishtar to the Underworld,” in Context of Scripture Volume 1: Canonical Compositions from the Biblical World [eds. William Hallo and K. Lawson Younger, Jr.; Leiden: Brill, 2003]: 1.108).

[14] D. M. Murdock, Christ in Egypt: The Jesus-Horus Connection (Seattle: Stellar House, 2009), 335. Cited in Foreman, 178. “Acharya S” is Murdock’s pen name.

[15] Lynn E. Roller, “Cybele,” in Encyclopedia of Religion, 3:2110.

[16] Johannes C. de Moor, The Seasonal Pattern in the Ugaritic Myth of Baʿlu According to the Version of Ilimilku (AOAT 16; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Butzon & Bercker, 1971), 188 ; J. C. L. Gibson, “The Last Enemy,” SJT 32 (1979): 159–60.

[17] Mark S. Smith, The Ugaritic Baal Cycle: Volume 1. Introduction with Text, Translation and Commentary of KTU 1.1–1.2 (VTSup 55; Leiden: Brill, 1994) and Mark S. Smith and Wayne T. Pitard, The Ugaritic Baal Cycle: Volume 2. Introduction with Text, Translation and Commentary of KTU 1.3–1.4 (VTSup 114; Leiden: Brill).

[18] Mark S. Smith, “The Death of ‘Dying and Rising God’ in the Biblical World: An Update, with Special Reference to Baal in the Baal Cycle,” SJOT 12 (1998): 257–313. Summarizing Smith’s article, Ehrman states, “According to Smith, the methodological problem that afflicted Frazer [the father of the dying and rising god idea] was that he took data about various divine beings, spanning more than a millennium, from a wide range of cultures, and smashed the data all together into a synthesis that never existed. This would be like taking views of Jesus from a French monk of the twelfth century, a Calvinist of the seventeenth century, a Mormon of the late nineteenth century, and a Pentecostal preacher of today, combining them all together into one overall picture and saying, ‘That’s who Jesus was understood to be.’ We would never do that with Jesus. Why should we do it with Osiris, Heracles, or Baal” (Did Jesus Exist?, 229).

[19] “Dying and Rising Gods,” 4:2536.

[20] Dennis Pardee, “The Baʿlu Myth,” in Context of Scripture Volume 1: Canonical Compositions from the Biblical World [eds. William Hallo and K. Lawson Younger, Jr.; Leiden: Brill, 2003]: 1.86; John Day, Yahweh and the Gods and Goddesses of Canaan (JSOTSup 265; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 117–18.

[21] Nomes were different territories ruled by different administrators.

[22] M. Heerma van Voss, “Osiris,” in Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible (2d. ed.; Karel van der Toorn, Bob Becking, and Pieter W. vand der Horst; Leiden: Brill, 1999), 650.

[23] Note that the women had already dropped out of the common telling of the gospel in 1 Corinthians 15.
 
For more information, or if you have questions about this resource, you can contact Doug Becker, Pastor of Theology.