The Shifting Shadow of the Galilean*

This week, the Daily Mail (online version) touted an upcoming documentary on Jesus visiting Glastonbury (England) at some point in his life.  (See here for the article: Was Jesus taught by the Druids of Glastonbury).  The documentary presents a ‘new’ theory about Jesus’ life where the New Testament fails to give any insight; and that theory is (in case you opted not to read the article): Jesus was taught by the Druids either before he was 12 years old or some time between being 12 and starting his Galilean ministry–when he was around 35.**

I must admit that I laughed hysterically at first, but then I found myself sighing sorrowfully because it turned out to be serious.  My sorrow relates to the fact that the individuals making this documentary are absolutely serious about what is otherwise absolutely hysterical, simply because it’s just bad history and no one would entertain such ahistorical theories as representing reality; however, that is precisely what these individuals have done. In true Sweatman fashion, I want to examine in detail the claims being made in this article, which are synopses of what is to be expected in the documentary.

First, there is the claim that, ‘As a book of record the New Testament doesn’t do well on the early life of Jesus Christ.’  Fair enough; but when did it become necessary for it to do so?  Saying that it ‘did not do well’ implies a failure of intent; however, that assumes that the Gospel writers intentionally set out to compose comprehensive biographies of Jesus’ life.  To assume that ancient biographies had to be comprehensive is to be presumptuous and anachronistic.

Second, there is the implication that the (‘new’) Glastonbury theory has its roots in a poem by William Blake.  If this is indeed the impetus behind the documentary, then it ranks alongside the theory that St Paul was really a Roman spy–a theory whose genesis came from a typo.  Blake’s poem is certainly moving and it carries a spiritual resonance to which I’m sure we can all relate (on various levels).  However, I have my doubts that Blake intended his poem to be taken as a historical possibility–let alone a historical reality.

Third, the theorists involved with the documentary make the rather bold claim that

it’s perfectly plausible [that] the Messiah made an educational trip to Glastonbury . . . [and] that Jesus accompanied his supposed uncle, Joseph of Arimathaea, on a business trip to the mines of the South-West.  Whilst there, it is claimed that he took the opportunity to further his maths by studying under druids.

(This is where I began laughing hysterically).  Part of my concern with this sort of claim is the fact that they have touted it to be ‘perfectly plausible.’  Had they said, ‘possible’, I don’t think I would have laughed as hard.  In very general terms, if something is ‘possible’, then it carries with it a level of reasonable doubt.  If something is ‘plausible’, then there are no good reasons to doubt its possibility.  That the theorists of the documentary have tagged on the sacred adverbial-adjective ‘perfectly’ to their claim of plausibility, this suggests that there are absolutely no good reasons to doubt their claims.  Oh, but there are.

Related to this is the claim made by one of the theorists, Dr Gordon Strachen:

it is plausible Jesus came to further his education.  The country [i.e. England] is thought to have been at the forefront of learning 2,000 years ago, with mathematics particularly strong.

To wit the other theorist, Ted Harrison, adds:

If someone was wanting to learn about the spirituality and thinking not just of the Jews but also the classical and Greek world he would have come to Britain, which was the centre of learning at the time.  Jesus was a young man curious to find out about all sorts of things.  We know there is a huge gap in the life of Jesus between when he was born and when his ministry started.  He would have come [when he was a boy] to learn what was being taught about astronomy and geometry which was being taught at ‘universities’ run by druids at the time.

With regard to Strachen’s comments: again, had he said ‘possible’, it would not have been as funny.  However, the plausibility that Jesus travelled to England to further his education is rife with historical, theological, and practical problems–all of which make such a historic trip unlikely (i.e. implausible).  Let’s assume for the moment that both Strachen and Harrison affirm the basic historicity of the Gospel story and that what is noted about Jesus’ early life carries a degree of reliability.  If that is the case, then we can agree basically on the following details:

1. Jesus was born c. 6 BCE
2. visited by the Magi c. 5 BCE
3. taken to Egypt by his parents shortly thereafter and remained in Egypt till c. 3 BCE
4. returned to Palestine (namely, Nazareth) c. 2 BCE where the text suggests that the holy family established residence (see Mt 2.23)

The parallel account in Luke supports not only an established residency in Nazareth but also a continual presence in Palestine (see Lk 2.39-41).  The potential loophole in this account is that Lk 2.41 does not explicitly mention Jesus going with his parents to Jerusalem every year.  (That he did has to be assumed/implied).  Thus, the theorists of the documentary insert the possibility that Joseph of Arimathaea, being an uncle, took Jesus to England for further education.  However, the Gospels never refer to Joseph of Arimathaea as being related to the holy family in any way.  All it says is that Joseph was a ‘rich man’ and ‘disciple of Jesus’ (see Mt 27.57; cf. Lk 23.50-52; Jn 19.38).  Therefore, to conjecture that Joseph of Arimathaea was the uncle of Jesus and did take him to England for further education is to ignore or distort the data on hand for the sake of establishing a theory.

However, in case this conjecture doesn’t work, they have a backup hypothesis: Jesus ‘may have made the visit when in his teens or 20s and used his earnings as a carpenter to fund it.’  While I grant that the biblical account of Jesus’ life during this period is extremely vague (okay: dead silent), this sort of hypothesis betrays the anachronistic way in which Strachen and Harrison are going about their investigation.  Jesus was not like the teens and 20s of modern day Britain who do save their earnings in order to blow it at Glastonbury.  Equally, while carpentry was a reputable business in the ancient world–primarily because of its practicality–it would not have been lucrative enough to allow Jesus to save money in order to fund a trip to England, let alone sustain living costs for the duration of his stay.

With regard to Harrison’s comments: first, there is an assumption that educational centres in England were superior to those found elsewhere in the Roman Empire–especially in the fields of spirituality, astronomy, geometry, etc.  What is more, the assumption maintains that England would have been the likely candidate for Jesus to learn about Jewish spirituality.  This is problematic for a number of reasons.  One, there is no evidence of a Jewish settlement in England before or during Jesus’ life (nor slightly afterwards, as far as I can tell).  Philo of Alexandria (c. 20 BCE–c. 50 CE) lists many affluent Jewish settlements in the Empire; England is not on that list.

Second, assuming that the Druids of England knew about Jewish spirituality in some form; it would be second-hand at best.  Third, and most important, the Druids were staunch pagans and their religious/theological views would have repulsed devout Jews.  Therefore, what would be the attractive cause for Jesus, a Jew, to travel thousands of miles to learn second-hand Jewish spirituality from a group of pagans?  Answer: none.  Rejoinder: Jesus went to study astronomy and geometry to enhance his carpentry skills?  Surrejoinder: why would Jesus travel thousands of miles to learn carpentry techniques from the Druids when he could learn immediately from his (step-)father?  More to the point, why preface that claim with the idea that learning spirituality by the Druids is a worthy endeavour?

The claims of Strachen and Harrison that England was ‘at the forefront of learning’ and ‘the centre of learning at that time’ become burdened under the sheer weight of historical evidence.  The Greek historian, Strabo (c. 63 BCE–23 CE) makes reference to both the land of Britain and the Druids.  Specifically, he notes that they are a strange lot, similar to the Celts but more simplistic and barbarous.  He also opines that the do not possess basic knowledge of cheese-making, horticulture and husbandry.   What is immediately striking about Strabo’s account of is that nothing is ever said about Britain being a known place of learning.  This is curious in light of the fact that he does mention other renown schools in the Empire: one in the city of the Megarians (Geography, 9.1.8), one in Rhodes (14.1.48); and ones in Tarsus, Athens, and Alexandria (14.5.13).

P. Cornelius Tacitus (c. 56–117 CE) only refers to the Druids as being overly religious and superstitious.  In fact, his comments are rather critical and mocking (see Annals 14.30; Histories 4.54).  Similar to Strabo, nothing is said about either Britain or the Druids being sources of renown learning.  G. Suetonius Tranquillus (c. 69–c. 150 CE) makes a passing reference to the Druids, although what he says is overtly negative–i.e. that the Emperor Claudius despised the ritual practices of the Druids and banished them (Live of Claudius, 25).  Again, nothing about educational achievements.  On the more blunted end, Diogenes Laertius (c. 3rd cent. CE) criticises those who believe that philosophy originally came from the Druids (Lives, 1.1).  While this criticism does not say anything about British or Druidic learning centres, it does reveal sentiments about the potential quality of such centres.

On the slightly more sympathetic side is Julius Caesar (100–44 BCE) who recognises the Druids as men of learning, mostly in the areas of religious knowledge and basic legal practices–albeit in a religious context (Gallic Wars, 6.13).  He also praises them for their abilities to memorise large amounts of information as well as write in Greek when necessary (6.14).  The majority of Caesar’s observations describe the basic theological beliefs of the Druids and their high respect for nature (see 6.14); however, nothing is said about places of learning either in Britain or amongst the Druids.  With a similar emphasis, Pliny the Elder (23–79 CE) speaks to the Druids’ superstitious practices and beliefs and that such things were known throughout portions of the Empire (see Natural History, 24.62; 30.4; cf. 16.95).  However, Pliny notes that it was a good thing that the Druids were relegated to the boundaries of the Empire–ostensibly because of the contemptible nature of their superstitions (see 30.4).  Also, Pliny says nothing about renowned educational opportunities coming from England.  His comments tend toward the aesthetic appeal of the island (see 4.30).

Finally, Ammianus Marcellinus (c. 325–c. 390 CE) notes the esteem attributed to the Druids as ‘being loftier than the rest in intellect’ (Rerum Gestarum, 15.9.8).  However, this is virtually everything Marcellinus has to say about the Druids–aside from a passing comment about their rejection of all things human (i.e. they are not materialists, per se) and their belief in the immortality of the soul.***  Nothing in Marcellinus points to the Druids having universities or Britain being a ‘centre of learning’, as Harrison believes.  In fact, all of the above references to Britain in general and the Druids in particular seem to point in the other direction.  The plausibility of this portion of Strachen and Harrison’s theory is want for historical support; thus, it cannot be seen as plausible.

In what appears to be a ‘last-ditch’ attempt to prove their case, Strachen and Harrison appeal to a recognised legend that Jesus presumably built a chapel in Glastonbury, which is supposedly known by St Augustine.  They point out that Augustine allegedly wrote to the Pope of the time ‘to tell him about it’–ostensibly to have it noted as a sacred site needing the verification and protection of the Church.  However, two problems emerge with this claim.  First, which St. Augustine is in mind, because historically there are two?  There is the famed Augustine of Hippo (354-430 CE), who is generally the more recognised one when his name is given without qualification (as in the article).  Then there is Augustine of Canterbury (d. 604 CE), who was sent by Pope Gregory the Great to south England in order to evangelise the pagans of the area.  It must be this latter Augustine simply because nothing in the writings of the former say anything about knowledge of a Jesus-built chapel in Glastonbury.  However, this brings us to the next problem.

Second, as a fellow, more astute blogger has noted, the attribution of Augustine knowing about this alleged chapel and reporting it to the Pope can only be traced to the 12th century CE–and that is something recognised by people who claim that Jesus did visit Glastonbury.  Thus, the historicity not only of the letter but also the claim itself are certainly suspect.  Once again, the plausibility of Strachen and Harrion’s theory becomes more unlikely in view of the historical evidence, which is precisely what is needed if one is going to claim something as ‘plausible.’

The article concludes with a striking admission (and a painful qualifier): ‘Mr Harrison said there were “no archaeological finds” to back up the myth, but “by exploring the legend, we are opening up a fascinating new insight into early Christianity”.’  First, a key reason for the lack of archaeological evidence is the simple fact that the story is (admitted to be) a myth.  This would be tantamount to historians seeking out tangible clues for the epic battle at Minas Tirith.  Nothing is going to be found because it did not happen in real history.  Second, while it is true that legends do reveal interesting insight into what a particular group of people believe, legends often emerge several generations after the historical events upon which the legends are based.  Moreover, it would be wrong to assert that the legends accurately reflect the historical events in question.  To do so would negate the meaning of the term ‘legend’ as well as distort the meaning of this historical events.

Thirdly, and I’m done after this one: Strachen and Harrison are not opening up ‘a fascinating new insight into early Christianity.’  They are reopening up a spurious (and rather boring) legend promulgated during a period of Christian history far removed from the historical events which claims to nuance such events.  This methodology was tried once before and it failed miserably.  It was called, The Da Vinci Code.  To say that this legend of Jesus visiting England in order to further his education and build a chapel in Glastonbury has relevance for early Christianity is to reveal an anachronistic approach to history as well as a painful misunderstanding of what early Christianity is.

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* For those paying attention, yes I have adapted the title of G. Theissen’s wonderful historical novel.
** I am sure this age will bother some people because it goes against the traditional theories, which suggest 30 years old (because Jesus presumably died when he was 33).  However, based on historical clues and calendrical data, the 35(ish) suggestion is more likely.  We can discuss this in more detail if you like.
*** The Druids maintain the belief in the transmigration of the soul (see Caesar, Gallic Wars, 6.14)

Dealing with ‘parallelomania’ while trying not to contribute to it

Even though I work primarily in the field of New Testament studies, I have an almost uncontrollable tendency to venture outside my boundaries and into other lands.  More times than not, these journeys include the exotic plains of Ancient Near Eastern wisdom, the bustling city streets of Graeco-Roman philosophy, and even the unsettling wilderness of Old Testament theology.*  In many respects, I think this propensity for wandering is healthy in academic studies simply because it is easy to become siloed** in one’s field.  The more practical reason for wandering, however, is simply this: there are some great thinkers and writers out there who deserve to be read, but to gain access to them means jumping the fence.

One of my favourite Old Testament scholars is Samuel Sandmel.  (I have others, but he is one of the ones at the top of my list).  He is engaging, incisive, thought-provoking, occasionally disruptive, and dare I say punctually humorous in his writing.  He is recognised as a mind and person to be reckoned with by scholars working in Jewish-Christian history and theology.  This is the case not only because he too had a propensity to wander into other fields but also because he appears to have established residence in many of them.  Thus, when he speaks about a particular discipline or aspect of that discipline, we can be quite certain that he is speaking as a native of that field and one who knows the territory.

In 1961, Sandmel delivered an inaugural lecture at the annual Society of Biblical Literature conference, which was held in St. Louis, Missouri.  The title of his lecture was simply, ‘Parallelomania’ and its contents revealed a growing concern that he perceived within biblical studies.  (If you would like to read it, you can find here).  The gist of the lecture confronted what he saw as the problematic tendency within scholarship of overemphasising apparent parallels between biblical texts and other ancient writings and/or writing styles, features, trends, etc.  Specifically, the problem for Sandmel was that the parallels became so prominent in academic studies that they had become seen as evidence of influence.  For example, because the letter of Hebrews deals with the topics of messiah, prophets, angels, Moses and Aaron in a way that parallels what can be found in the writings of Qumran; some believed that the author of Hebrews was influenced by the teaching of those at Qumran.  For Sandmel, the ‘influence’ bit was the problem.  Furthermore, the worst case scenario of ‘parallelomania’ was that the contents of the parallels found became the standard of measure for interpreting biblical texts.

As some of you might know, I am currently working on the specific text of 1 Corinthians 2.1–3.4 and trying to figure out what in the world is going on in this section of Paul’s letter.  In dealing with this text, I am looking at four major interpretative models and their contributions for understanding the logic of the passage.  The four models are: historical criticism, social-scientific analysis, theological hermeneutics, and rhetorical criticism.  With the exception of historical criticism and maybe theological hermeneutics, social-scientific analysis in general and rhetorical criticism in particular appear to have forgotten Sandmel’s cautionary words.  With regard to social-scientific analysis, the parallels found tend to have what could be called a chronological dissonance in the sense that modern sociological theories and trends are retroactively applied to biblical texts as though there is a one-to-one correlation.  (I admit that this is an oversimplification of the process).  With regard to rhetorical criticism, ‘parallelomania’ appears to an epidemic–especially the strand that manifests itself with the boils and sores of direct ‘influence’.  (I’m currently taking medication for my jaundice against rhetorical criticism).

I cannot count the number of scholars I’ve read in the past few months who make passionate and assertive claims about Paul’s brilliant rhetorical acumen in both his preaching ministry and literary career.  Such claims are often predicated on assumptions regarding Paul’s education–assumptions that are not typically supported in the works that assert them–but even that remains a matter of scholarly dispute.  However, because the parallels suggested exist between Graeco-Roman rhetoric and Paul’s ministry (and writing), scholars often argue that the former necessarily influenced the latter.  I realise that I open myself up to debate/ridicule in saying this, but: I remain unconvinced that such an influence actually existed or that showing an influence is even possible.  In fact, I (boldly) maintain that Graeco-Roman rhetoric has become a siloed discipline in biblical studies with the result that other possibilities are simply overlooked.

Herein lies my dilemma.  For my project, I must read through the relevant materials (i.e. the Graeco-Roman rhetorical stuff) in order to make my case that Paul was not adopting and/or employing rhetorical conventions during his 18-month sojourn in Corinth.  I must also read through other materials (i.e. the non-Graeco-Roman rhetorical stuff) that have similar themes, ideas, and terms related to what Paul says in 1 Cor 2.1–3.4 which might be better suited for understanding his argument in that particular text.  More problematic is the fact that what I’m seeing as better suited has been largely dismissed by other scholars as being unsuitable–or, it does not seem to parallel what is found in the text.  But I wonder: is it unsuitable because it does not parallel with what is found in the text; or is it unsuitable because it does not parallel the parallelomanic-rhetorical reading currently surrounding the text?  If the former, then fine; if the latter, then we have a serious problem–one that Sandmel warned us about over 40 years ago.

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* My Master’s thesis in Seminary was an attempt to document my journeys into these other fields.
** ’siloed’ (verb): the act of being turned into a silo–i.e. an isolated building in the middle of nowhere.

Industrial-sized blenders and funnels

Along with my usual responsibilities, I am working on four short articles to be published in the Dictionary of the Bible and Western Culture (Baylor, 2010).  What I appreciate about this opportunity is that it forces me to think not only intentionally but also concisely, because the dictionary is aimed at undergraduates and the length is confined to 600 words (or less).  My approved four are: ‘Book of Life’, ‘Mystery’, ‘Signs of the Times’, and ‘Twinkling of an Eye’.  (For those keeping score: yes, I do have apocalyptic interests).

There were two topics, however, that I wanted to do but were already assigned: ‘Camel Through a Needle’s Eye’ and ‘Behemoth’; however, I found out that such was the case after I had written the one on the camel.  So I thought: why not post it and see what people think?  What follows is a slightly lengthen and adapted version of the article.  I would be curious to hear comments, criticisms, etc.

Camel Through a Needle’s Eye. This rather graphic phrase is found in Mark 10:25 (paralleled in Matthew 19:24; Luke 18:25).  Some interpretative concerns are worth pursuing before attempting to ascertain the meaning of this phrase.

First, a variant reading in some Greek manuscripts reads, ‘a rope [or, cable].’ The variation is often explained as: a visual mistake on the part of the scribe making a copy of the text where the scribe accidentally read καμηλον (kamêlon [‘camel’]) as καμιλον (kamilon [‘rope/cable’]); an audible mistake, if the scribe was creating a copy via dictation, due to eta (η) and iota (ι) having similar sounds; or a scribe purposely replaced καμηλον with καμιλον in order to minimise the otherwise gross imagery.  However, the reading of καμηλον not only outweighs the marginal reading of καμιλον but also appears in earlier manuscripts.  The earliest reference for καμιλον is around 444 CE and not appearing again until the 9th century CE, whereas the reference for καμηλον ranges consistently from 215 CE onward.  Superficially, while the basic force of Jesus’ meaning would be retained whichever term was chosen; given the manuscript evidence (and other rules related to Textual Criticism), the reading of ‘camel’ is favoured in spite of (or, even because of) its graphic nature.

Second, considering the phrase as a whole, early theories suggested a small hole in the wall of a city serving as a gate through which travellers and their animals must pass.  However, given its humiliating size, camels were either excluded or squeezed through only after off-loading their cargo—and even then with great effort.  Some believe that this gate was called, ‘the Needle’s Eye’ and that Jesus’ comment in Mark 10.25 referenced not only this gate but also the great effort of bringing a camel through it.  Thus, the rich man could enter heaven only if he was willing to be ‘off-loaded’ and humbled before God.  Another theory, which is essentially a variation of the first one, suggested an extremely narrow mountain path known as ‘the Eye of the Needle’.  The tight squeeze of this path required the riders of camels to dismount and walk slowly through mountains thus becoming vulnerable to robbers.  While both of these options provide for interesting preaching material and captivating Sunday School lessons, there simply is no historical evidence to support them.  Furthermore, both theories minimise (if not subvert) the significance of Jesus’ statement by making the impossible humanly possible.

Third, concerning additional uses, the phrase can be found in later extra-biblical texts and in a way that militates against references to a physical location.  Berakhot 55b, exchanging camel for an elephant, stresses the impossibility of a given reality suggested by an evil spirit in a dream.  Similarly, Bava Metzi’a 38b criticises the argumentative tendencies of the Babylonians who proclaim things that are logical impossible–hence: with their logic, ‘they push an elephant through the eye of a needle.’  More in line with Jesus’ statement, Persiqta 25.163b nuances the meaning of the imagery with God saying, ‘Open for me a gate no wider than a needle’s eye, and I will open for you a gate through which camps and fortifications can pass.’  Thus, the focus is on faith in what God can do (cf. Acts of Peter and Andrew).  Similarly, yet from the other (logical) direction, the Qu’ran says, ‘the gates of heaven will not be opened for them nor shall they enter paradise until the camel passes through the eye of a needle’ (Surah 7.40), meaning: access can only be obtained by a divine act.

Finally, with regard to its meaning, two features should be noted.  First, the insanely hyperbolic nature of the phrase needs to be retained in order for Jesus’ statement to have its full effect.  Furthermore, the way in which the phrase is employed in extra-biblical texts supports a hyperbolic reading.  Second, Jesus does not suggest that the rich are excluded from heaven because they are rich; instead, they are excluded because they believe their riches entitle them access to heaven.  For Jesus, that belief is a logical (and theological) impossibility.

BNTC Reflections: Personal (1)

This past weekend (03-05 Sep) was the annual British New Testament Conference, which this year was held at the University of Aberdeen (Scotland).  Next year, it will enjoy the picturesque environs of Bangor University (Wales).  In many ways, this year’s conference was a stepping-stone for me–both personally and academically.  In the next few posts, I will detail why that is the case.  As can be surmised from the title of this post, my focus here (and the next one) will be on the personal; although, there is some overlap with the academic.

I will readily admit that attending such a conference was an emotional and mental roller-coaster, simply because I constantly struggle with self confidence.  In new situations, mostly with people I have never met, I know how to put on a brave face, and I know how to hold my own in a general conversation.  However, if the ties of the mask become loose or my input to simple dialogue runs dry, nervousness sets in and I tend to lose focus and long for a quiet refuge.  I want to do better, and I want to move past these struggles–I need to.  Strangely enough, despite my inner reservations, these sorts of events are an excellent catalyst for making such progress.  I am deeply grateful that I had my wonderful wife beside me who gave me the words of encouragement and the warm smile of assurance at all the right times.

One thing that impressed me about this BNTC was the congenial atmosphere of those who were present–some 170 New Testament scholars from various places.  The academic snobbery typically endemic of conferences such as the Society of Biblical Literature was lacking at the BNTC.  (If it was present, I did not encounter it).  The scholars here were approachable and willing to dialogue on a diversity of topics, ranging from current research projects to favourite pubs in the UK.  This sort of atmosphere helped alleviate many of my initial fears and reservations.

Immediately, on the first night, I ran into other PhD students that I knew personally–either from previous encounters or through e-mails.  One of these was Ben Blackwell (at Durham University), previously known only from e-mail correspondence.  Ben was extremely helpful in providing useful information for us prior to our move from the States to the UK.  When I met Ben this past weekend, for the first time, I quickly realised that the help he provided prior to our move was reflective of who he is as a person.  He is a very gracious and welcoming person.  Ben also kindly introduced me to other PhD students–several of whom are working in similar fields of study.

Another encounter was Matthew Malcolm (at University of Nottingham).  Matthew and I (and my lovely wife) met earlier this year at Oxford right before a lecture given by James Dunn.  Matthew and I share research interests in that we are both working in 1 Corinthians.  When he and I met earlier this year, he was amazingly insightful with recent trends and ideas–many of which have become foundational to my studies.  Between the Oxford lecture (which was in March, I think) and now, Matthew and I have remained in sporadic contact through e-mail.  Matthew has always shown incredible patience with my ‘newbie’ type questions and my occasional delays in correspondence, and he has been a wonderful sounding-board for ideas related to 1 Corinthians.  It was simply good to see him again.

As the evening progressed, I found myself meeting a slew of entirely new people–both student and professor alike, and many of these professors were ones I deeply admired, which initially prompted feelings of worry.  However, as mentioned before, the atmosphere of welcome proved to me to be opportunities for personal growth; and my wife’s presence with me and her supporting love were immensely comforting, which allowed me to be real and open with everyone I met.  After a rather entertaining welcome from Andrew Clarke (the overseer for the conference) and Andrew Lincoln (the president of the conference), we broke for dinner.  This proved to be beneficial in that I was immediately thrown into a context where being in contact with new people was inevitable.  However, I found myself strangely calm.

Jenn and I sat with my other supervisor, Lloyd Pietersen, which meant we would be close to someone we knew.  In front of us sat another PhD student called, Joe Baker who is working part-time on his research.  The conversation between us was both relaxed and challenging.  Challenging because Joe and I quickly became immersed in each other research projects, and I was deeply intrigued by his (rather ambitious) project, which is essentially a philosophical re-reading on Tom Wright’s narratival approach to the New Testament.  Joe clearly sees the tasks before him and all that he must do to reach his goal; and, from what I can tell, he’s ready for the journey.  The conversation was relaxed simply because of the company.

The evening, after dinner, closed with a main session, which was a lecture given by Todd Klutz (of the University of Manchester).  The subject matter of Todd’s topic was clearly beyond my knowledge and I readily admit that I was lost about half way through the lecture.  (His talk was on a particular interpretation of the so-called Eighth Book of Moses [in Papyri Graecae-Magicae XIII.1-734] and possible allusions to various Jesus traditions).  It was at this point that my struggles with self-confidence began to re-emerge in a powerful way; and the darkness of the room was not helping.  However, to myself, I prayed for comfort and asked for a mind of receptivity–not only for what was being discussed but also for being okay with the fact that my knowledge of such things was completely lacking.

The evening session ended and I began to make my way back to the room to see my lovely wife.  (She was exhausted from travelling and as a result did not want to attend the lecture).  Before making it out of the conference hall, I met one final person: Richard Ascough (of Queen’s Theological College [Canada]).  I overheard Richard having issues with the internet service in the room–issues that I too was having earlier that afternoon.  We chatted briefly about possible solutions to our similar plights and then parted ways, but not without the promise of talking more over the weekend.  Richard was yet another example of the congenial make-up of the conference.  On my short walk back to the room, I was able to reflect on all that had happened and how God constantly provided the comfort I needed.  I said a quiet prayer of thanks and asked for strength to make it through another day and a willingness to learn and grow from this experience.

Quote of the day

While speaking about the Nazi agenda between 1933 and 1945, the core this statement seems to be both indiscriminate and timeless in application:

…as soon as finite humanity wants to bring about the conditions of the infinite, of eternal peace and equality, only terrorism results.

- Hans Schwarz, Eschatology (2000), 329

Review, Article, Proposal, etc

I am in the midst of tackling multiple tasks all at once in a fairly short amount of time.  In many ways it has proven to be a wonderful mental exercise, while in other ways it has been rather exhausting.  (Lack of sleep might factor into the exhaustion bit).

One of the projects is another book review for the Stone Campbell Journal (SCJ).  This time, the review focuses on Yung-Suk Kim’s dissertation turned book, Christ’s Body at Corinth: The Politics of a Metaphor (2008).  It comes from a series of books with which I am admittedly unfamiliar: Paul in Critical Contexts; however, if Kim’s work represents the tenor of the series, it does appear to be rather interesting and worthy of consideration.  My goal is to have the review submitted to SCJ this Thursday.  Something that I failed to ask with the Gorman review was whether or not I would be allowed to provide a digital copy of the review on this blog.  This time, I will specifically ask to do so–for both Gorman and Kim.  If I am permitted to do so, I will provide an update with a link for the PDFs.

Another project is a dictionary article that I recently submitted.  The article focuses on the topic of Stoicism and its influence within the Graeco-Roman world.  The dictionary for which it was written is rather unique.  It is part of the HyperText Bible Project, which seeks to provide scholarly resources in a user-friendly web-based format.  That being the case, my article had to follow a format with which I have had minimal experience.  However, as I made my way through the article, the format and style began to make perfect sense.  Presently, the article is slotted to be reviewed by an unknown (to me) scholar who will either approve it or ask for revisions (or scrap the whole thing).  Obviously, I’m hoping for approval.

Thirdly, I have submitted the latest revision of my PhD proposal, which seems to be the one that will take.  It has been a long and arduous journey to get to this point, but I would not trade a single moment.  The hope is that the only corrections needed are typographical (if any).  I meet with the supervisors this Thursday (25-Jun) to discuss its preliminary acceptance and/or need for slight editing.  Once that meeting comes and goes, I will be able to post more details regarding the project.

Finally, I have been on the search for additional funding for this PhD program, which has proven to be rather difficult (and disheartening at times).  When Jenn and I moved to Cheltenham, we admittedly moved with a number of hopeful assumptions.  There is one really good possibility on the horizon, so I am presently writing up a “request for funding” proposal and hope to submit it by Wednesday at the latest.  Please keep us in mind and in your prayers as we pursue this opportunity and continue to search for further possibilities as well.

Easter traditions

The Easter season can be said to possess the following (typical) characteristics: a massive increase in the sales of candy and otherwise elusive plastic eggs; an elevated anticipation and excitement among children for what the Easter Bunny left them (sounds like a modified Santa Claus theory to me); a recognizable difference in church attendance; and, most notoriously, televised skepticism regarding the Christian belief in the death and resurrection of Jesus.  So far as I can tell, not much has deviated with regard to these characteristics.

As many will already know, the National Geographical Channel is televising its skepticism on 06-Apr-09.  (If you didn’t know, now you do).  The allotment will contain three floods of information for viewers to wade through in three short hours: 1) the search for the tomb of Jesus, 2) the secrets of the Knights of Templar, and 3) the scandal over who actually killed Jesus.[1]  Before dealing with these three individually, it needs to be said that shows such as this are nothing new—despite their insistence of providing the viewing public with “new” or “revealing” information.  Its newness is relative to those who encounter it; so, yes, in that sense it is new.  However, in academic circles, much of this “new” information is old hat;[2] yet, that reality is conveniently not mentioned. Now, onto the three segments.

The Search
The scope of this segment is quite obvious: the “experts” want to ascertain the legitimacy of the suspected tomb of Jesus, discovered over two decades ago, which was apparently a family tomb.  These “experts” also want to attempt to establish a “bloodline” connection between those buried within the tomb.  In short, and if you’ve been paying attention to your TV, this segment gives new life[3] to the theory of the Talpiot tomb that was televised a couple of years ago, which was spearheaded by Simcha Jacobovici.  Outside of a few fringe scholars, this theory has been proven to be completely suspect and not credible enough to be held as a viable option (see here).  However, these scholars are back in the camera’s primary focus perpetuating something that cannot be sustained.

For me, there is one fundamental problem with attempting to establish a bloodline connection between those within the Talpiot tomb: while a connection might be established between those within the tomb, a direct connection between those individuals and the Jesus of the New Testament (NT) is impossible.  The reason for the impossibility is that in order to make such a connection, one has to have a control sample against which the other samples can be compared.  Historically speaking, there are no blood samples of the historical NT Jesus; so, how these scholars assume they can make a connection will be interesting to see.  If they go simply on the name “Jesus” (or, Yeshua) inscribed on the ossuary, then they are proceeding with rather weak evidence. 

The Secret
This segment appears intriguing for the simple fact that a (supposedly) new document has been found which sets the Knights Templar in a historically modified light.  From what I know and can gather, this appears to be a presentation of “facts” that will be similar to the “facts” elucidated by Dan Brown regarding the Priory of Sion.[4]  I hesitate to make any further comments about this segment simply because the information provided is not all that helpful for forming comments.  All that is noted are the details regarding the scandalous “history” of the Knights and the potential significance of the newly discovered document. 

However, I do have one comment that is more of a curious observation: why is this segment included in this three-part series?  More specifically: what is the rhetorical effect of placing this segment between the search for the tomb and the scandal of the crucifixion?  I might have to come back to this set of questions.

The Scandal
The inherent thrust of this segment is concerned with blame and how that blame has been portrayed historically.  From the snippet given, it appears that the desire of this particular segment is to swing the critical pendulum away from the Jews as a whole—thus, avoiding anti-Semitism—and have it nip (well, okay, smash into) the nose of Pontius Pilate.[5]  The justification for this shift is rooted in the apparent scandal that the Gospel accounts have exonerated Pilate’s actions because of the Gospels’ anti-Jewish agenda.  Thus, the Gospel accounts have altered the validity of history in order to advance a socio-religious polemic against the Jews so as to maintain the comfort of the Pax Romana.  James Tabor is quoted as saying: “The Gospel writers had to convince their Roman audience that they were not enemies of Rome.”

One of the key problems with this suggestion is that it is highly debatable that the Gospel accounts were explicitly written for a “Roman audience”.  Another key problem is that the pendulum shift relies on an either-or dichotomy with regard to who is to blame—i.e. it is either the Jews or it is Pilate.  The problem is that the solution to this dilemma is not so clear-cut.  The responsibility for the death of Jesus is a massively delicate subject and it is certainly something that cannot be decided a single hour allotment.  If one wants to examine the details of this discussion and understand why it is so volatile, I highly recommend the revised PhD dissertation of Jon Weatherly—professor of NT at Cincinnati Christian University.  Dr. Weatherly handles the subject with the scholarly sharpness and clarity for which he is known.  However, I have a bad feeling that the treatment to be given in this Scandal segment is ignorant[6] of Dr. Weatherly’s arguments.  I may be wrong.

Response
First of all, I would encourage both Christians and non-Christians to watch this program (if you have that channel) when it airs on 06-Apr-09.  I say this to Christians simply because you have the responsibility of knowing what is being said about what you believe.  I would also encourage Christians to read up on the works of those who are skeptical of Christianity and/or those who wish to debunk it.  By knowing what is being said about Christianity, you will be better equipped to answer the honest questions of those who do not believe. 

To non-Christians (i.e. those who reject Christianity), my encouragement is not that you should watch this program in order to fuel your disdain for Christianity; instead, I encourage you to hear what is being portrayed by those who are skeptical to see if what they are saying makes logical sense.  I would also encourage you to read up on the works of those who have intelligibly responded to the negative treatments of Christianity and see if they make logical sense.  In other words, I simply ask you to be objective in your skepticism.

Secondly, to speak directly to the nature of these segments, the logical structure (or, rhetorical effect) of the segments appears to be quite intentional.  The scandal of the Knights Templar suggests a propensity for controversial cover-ups in order to preserve an assumed piety.  This then becomes a segue for discussing the Christian tradition regarding the death and resurrection of Jesus in order to suggest a similar propensity.  In this case, two seemingly disconnected ideas emerge: 1) the Gospel writers place the full blame on the Jews for the death of Jesus in order to preserve the sanctity of Rome; and 2) the Gospel writers have incredible tales of a resurrected Jesus in order to preserve a fundamental tenant of the Christian faith, when in “reality” the body of Jesus was simply moved to another tomb. 

The implied goal of this sort of presentation is an attempt to show that Christianity is nothing more than a religion based on scandalous theories that have no historical justification.  However, the fundamental flaw in this attempt is that in order to make such a case, the scholars and “experts” who appear on these sorts of shows are perpetuating (known) scandalous theories, and passing them off as “historical truth”, in order to show that Christianity is a scandalous theory and is therefore false.[7]  (This is why I smelled Dan Brown earlier, for Brown uses a similar methodology in his book, The DaVinci Code).  The hypocrisy of such an approach should be obvious; however, it will remain hidden because the theories promoted are generally not known by the viewing public to be not only scandalous in themselves but also historically suspect (or, false).

_________________________________________

[1] This summary is taken from this site.  The critique that follows is based on the information provided in the site, my past experiences with these sorts of issues, and (admittedly) my assumptions of what will happen and/or be said. 
[2] This is not meant to sound elitist; it’s really just how things are.  That which is found by those who interact with such data generally takes time to trickle down into popular consciousness.   
[3] Conceptual pun intended.
[4] The “facts” as detailed in his book, The DaVinci Code.
[5] Could that not be classified as anti-Romanism?
[6] I use “ignorant” in the simple sense of the term (i.e. no knowledge) and not in a pejorative sense (i.e. “you stupid moron”).
[7] Granted, there will certainly be scholars on this show who are opposed to the theories being promoted; but, I have an a posteriori feeling that their air-time will be minimal at best.

Not as strange at it might seem

I am currently trying to narrow down the focus of my PhD research topic, which has proven to be quite the endeavor.  Admittedly, part of the struggle was the lack of a “plan-B” when I learned that my original topic had to be set aside.  However, a “plan-B” quickly emerged–not only through stimulating conversations with my astute supervisors but also (quite honestly) out of necessity–and this recent “plan” is beginning to take on a nice shape.  The next few weeks will be crucial in this regard, and depending on how they go, either I will provide the details of the project here in this blog or I will announce the hunt for a “plan-C”.  

In the midst of working on my current proposed idea, I have had to explore various writings related to a buffet of scholarly issues.  One of the key issues that will most likely become relevant for my topic is the so-called “New Perspective on Paul”–NPP, for short.  (I say “so-called” simply because the framework for this perspective was established just over 30 years ago; and in the scholarly world, a 30-year-old idea is an academic Methuselah).  The inherent difficulty with this is that the amount of literature on the NPP is enormous;[1] thus, to even begin to wrestle with current scholarly positions on the NPP proves to be an undertaking in itself.  What is more, a portion of this material tends to be polemical mud-slinging; thus, the researcher occasionally will have to wade through the sloppy shrapnel in order to find clues of what was being maintained.  

A Quick Summary
The key players for the NPP are: Krister Stendahl, E.P. Sanders, James Dunn, and N.T. Wright.  (I’m going to side-step dealing with Dunn and Wright in this summary).  In the early 1970s, Stendahl[2] argued that the apostle Paul’s struggle with faith vs. Law (Torah) was being perceived through the lens of Martin Luther’s personal battle with grace/faith vs. works (of the Church).  In other words, because Luther was struggling with issues of legalism and works-righteousness being touted by the Church, Luther read Paul’s struggle (namely in Romans 7) in the same way.  Stendahl argued that this is not the proper way to understand Paul–nor is it the right way to do historical and/or theological investigations.  This then opened the door to a slew of questions about the dilemma that Paul was indeed facing between faith and Law.  The key question was: should the post-Reformation portrait of a legalistic, works-righteousness Judaism be viewed as normative, or is there something behind that portrait that needs to be seen and understood?

The work of E.P. Sanders has been viewed as the “bombshell” (Don Carson) dropped on this discussion, and it had serious implications on New Testament scholarship.  In his massive volume, Paul and Palestinian Judaism,[3] Sanders sought to reveal that the traditional views of an overly legalistic, work-righteousness Judaism were not only untrue in the main but also representative of a very small fringe of Jewish writings from a later period.  In place of this, Sanders argued that Judaism had been primarily a religion of salvation by faith/grace–because that was the nature of the covenant with Abraham–and that works of the Law were only performed for the sake of “staying in” the covenant.  (Sanders would coin the phrase, “covenantal nomism” for this notion).  In other words, an Israelite did not do the works of Torah in order to be saved (or, declared righteous); an Israelite did works of Torah in order to maintain his or her (righteous) status within the covenant.  It was only in later traditions that the idea of being saved (or, declared righteous) by works emerged–namely in texts like 2 Enoch, 4 Ezra, and 2 Baruch.  Thus, for Sanders, it would be more likely for the apostle Paul, as a devout Pharisee, to be in harmony with covenantal nomistic ideas within mainline Judaism.[4]  

A Perennial Concern
However, one of the major sticking points in Sanders’ expose of covenantal nomism is this statement:

It seems likely that Paul’s thought did not run from plight to solution, but rather from solution to plight. The attempts to argue that Romans 7 shows the frustration which Paul felt during his life as a practising Jew have now been mostly given up, and one may rightly and safely maintain that the chapter cannot be understood in this way.  The chapter describes, rather, the pre-Christian or un-Christian life as seen from the perspective of faith.  It may be further observed on the basis of Phil. 3 that Paul did not, while “under the law”, perceive himself to have a “plight” from which he needed salvation (Paul and Palestinian Judaism, 443)

This argument from Sanders raised the obvious question: so, what then is Paul arguing for and/or against in his letters–namely, Galatians and Romans?  What is the “solution” and what is the “plight”?  The simplistic (and slightly overgeneralized) answer is: for Paul (according to Sanders), the “solution” is that faith in Christ is the only means of salvation, and the “plight” is that the Law is not that means–i.e. the Law is not faith.  The issue therefore is not faith-righteousness vs. legalistic-works-righteousness; instead, the issue is the ramifications of the new covenant established in Christ.  So, for Sanders, the “solution” is that covenant membership is brought about by faith/grace; yet, the nature of the (new) covenant is characterized by one’s relationship with Christ, which is freedom from the Law.  The “plight”, therefore, is that the nature of the former covenant–i.e. maintaining the Law–has been replaced because of the establishment of the new covenant in Christ.  

This concept has not been without its opponents.  In a fairly recent article,[5] Paul F.M. Zahl has adamantly argued that the entire notion of moving from “solution to plight” is completely foreign (or, “untrue to life” as he says).  For Zahl, this concept is not only untenable a posteriori, but it also defies basic logic.  His a posteriori argument is buttressed by the idea that those who work in helping ministries (or, professions) know that people do not deal with personal conflict in a “solution-to-plight” manner.  It just does not make (logical) sense to deal with problems in that way; thus, it does make sense to use the same logic with regard to Paul.  However, I think Zahl is being a bit hasty (I dare say, reactionary) in his critique of the NPP as a whole on this score.  Zahl may be right in what he says with regard to the specific “solution-to-plight” construction that Sanders provides; however, what Sanders establishes is not necessarily representative of how the NPP developed.  In fact, oddly enough, Zahl does not mention these developments (i.e. improvements) to Sanders’ original argument by scholars like Dunn and Wright.

Another Look
The idea of moving from “solution to plight” is not as strange as it might seem if understood properly.  Zahl’s employment of helping ministries/professions to support his argument works only if the context is relatively safe.  In an American context (particularly), a person who acknowledges Christ as Savior is relatively safe in how life is lived after that acknowledgement.  Generally speaking, there is little fear of how life will be affected as result of that that confession of faith (i.e. “solution”).  This is because the cultural context is not overly resistant to those who make such a choice. However, the American cultural context is not representative of other cultural contexts.  Ravi Zacharias has told of instances where he presented the gospel in foreign cultures (i.e. non-Christian ones) and that belief in Christ as Savior (i.e. “solution”) generated cultural struggles with how one now lives as a Christian in a pagan culture (i.e. “plight”).  While this analogy has its faults (as all analogies do), it does highlight the fact that “solution” can lead to “plight” in particular cultural contexts; thus, it is not as “untrue to life” as Zahl claims.

The better (though still limited) analogy for Paul is the logical one, which Zahl believes does not exist.  In book 7 of Plato’s Republic, we are told of a group of prisoners who are bound in a cave with only two sources of light: natural sunlight streaming in from an entrance behind them, and a fire on a large cleft above and behind them.  On the wall in front of the prisoners are shadowy-reflections of a puppet-show taking place by a group of people near the fire.  The shadows are only those of the puppets and not the ones using the puppets.  Because the prisoners see the shadows on the wall, and because they hear voices from behind, their natural conclusions is that the voices are those of the shadows and that the shadows are real people.  Then, for whatever reason, we see that one prisoner is released and allowed to leave the cave.  This prisoner comes into the sunlight where he is met by another who tells the freed prisoner about the shadows cast upon the wall (i.e. “solution”).  The freed prisoner is then confronted with the task of returning to the cave and revealing what he now knows to be true so that the other prisoners can experience the same liberating freedom.  However, in revealing such truths, the freed prisoner is battling preconditioned ideas of reality about what is seen and understood to be taking place before the eyes of the other prisoners (i.e. “plight”).  

I use Plato’s allegory of the cave not to draw exact parallels with Paul or to make inferences from the details.  I use it to highlight the overall logic of the allegory as supporting the idea that “solution to plight” is not a logically foreign concept (as Zahl asserts).  There are several “plights” and several “solutions” to be found in the allegory; but only one set makes the most sense of the story as a whole.  Therefore, the issue ultimately comes down to how one understands the terminology and which categories are being referred to by the key terms.  It also comes down to how one understands what is actually taking place with the argument itself.  For Paul, it is not so much about creating a strange logical framework in which he can make his argument; instead, it is Paul’s use of the strange framework in order to reveal the profundity and power of the argument.  To state this in another way, and to borrow from a scholar who is far more able-minded than myself: 

[Paul] rather proclaims the “solution” in his thematic opening in Romans 1.16-17 and in that proclamation presupposes the human “plight” which it addresses.  The very manner in which he announces his gospel in terms of the demand for faith, the inclusion of “the Greek,” the (paradoxical) priority of “the Jew,” and the revelation of the righteousness of God anticipates the content of his following argument and implicitly urges the acknowledgement of the human state which he subsequently describes.[6]

_______________________________________
[1] For an extensive and balanced introduction to the key issues/debates surrounding the NPP, I would highly recommend “The Paul Page.” 
[2] See his article, “The Apostle Paul and the Introspective Consciousness of the West,” in Paul Among Jews and Gentiles (London: SCM Press, 1976), 78-96.  
[3] Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison in Patters of Religion (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977).
[4] While some Jewish scholars are fine with this understanding of Paul in relation to 1st century Judaism, there are still some (non-Jewish) scholars who are not comfortable with this understanding.  A key figure supportive of the view is Jacob Neusner (“Comparing Judaisms,” History of Religions 18 [1978-79]: 177-91); and a key figure opposed to the view is Peter O’Brien (“Was Paul a Covenantal Nomist?”, in Justification and Variegated Nomism, vol. 2: The Paradoxes of Paul [eds., D.A. Carson, Peter T. O'Brien, and Mark A. Seifrid; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2004], 249-96).
[5] “Mistakes of the New Perspective on Paul,” Themelios 26.3 (2001): 1-11.  I have not found anyone who has responded to Zahl’s argument in this article, which is partly the reason I am offering my response here in this post.  
[6] Mark A. Seifrid, “Unrighteous by Faith: Apostolic Proclamation in Romans 1.18–3.20,” in Justification and Variegated Nomism, vol. 2: The Paradoxes of Paul, 105–emphasis original.

Points of revision (2 of 4)

The first part of this series can be found here, and it should be consulted before reading this one.

 

This part of the series will examine the concept of “the Antichrist”.  I mentioned in the first post that the common assumption is that this figure is linked with “the man of lawlessness” in 2 Thessalonians 2 as well as the “beast out of the earth” in Revelation 13.  The first problem with this is that it assumes what cannot necessarily be proven.  Those who hold otherwise have to do some interesting logical gymnastics—not to mention some painful theological contortions. 

FIRST THINGS FIRST

On a basic level: the terminology used when speaking about these figures is exclusive and unique to where they are found in the texts of the New Testament.[1]  In other words: in 2 Thessalonians, no mention is ever made of “the Antichrist” (using that specific term).  Likewise, in the letters of John, no mention is ever made of “the man of lawlessness” (using that specific term).  And, for good measure, in Revelation (as a whole), no mention is ever made of “the Antichrist” or “the man of lawlessness” (using those specific terms).  This exclusivity continues in that these references are not found anywhere else in the whole Bible.

The common way around this dilemma is to see the Antichrist, the man of lawlessness, and the beast out of the earth as sharing the same essence.  Because they share the same function—i.e., they all oppose God in some way, they all cause havoc and persecution for the faithful, and they are all (assumed to be) end-times figures—the distinct references must necessarily be talking about the same individual (or, entity).  This then allows for flexibility in the language used when referring to these (apparently) distinct individuals in the individual texts.  With this logic, an “unholy trinity” is proposed.

However, if we were to examine the biblical texts that speak about these three individuals, we would quickly find that the overlap simply does not work.  In fact, it would become immediately apparent that references about one cannot be used in the same way to refer to another one of the three.  This post will consider the references to the idea of “the Antichrist” and will use these as a basis for examining the other terms—i.e., “man of lawlessness” and “beast out of the earth”.  

“THE ANTICHRIST” (OR, ARE THERE OTHERS?)

There are four passages in the New Testament that speak about “the Antichrist”.  I’m not trying to hide the truth in any way by saying these are the only four.  I am simply saying what is.  In many ways, this makes matters easier because there is not a massive amount of material to cover.  In other ways, this makes matters rather difficult because there is not a massive amount of material to use for comparison.  So, we will deal with what we have.  (Just for clarity: all of the New Testament texts cited are my translations from the Greek).

Children, it is the last hour; and just as you heard that antichrist is coming, even now many antichrists have appeared; from this we know that it is the last hour (1 John 2.18)

First of all, before dealing with the obvious, it is important to see that the writer[2] views himself (and the body of believers) as already being in “the last hour.”  The more modern version of this phrase: “the last days” or, “the end of days.”  The reason why this is important to see is because it places the beginning of the end right in the time of the early church—i.e., the first century CE.  In other words, for the early church, “the end” was not something well off in the future; it was believed to be not only on its way (in full) but also something that was already starting (in part).  This is generally the reason why I tell people (if they ask) that we have been in the “last days” for almost 2000 years–we don’t have to wait for it it start.  

Second, there does appear to be a belief within the early church that some “antichrist” figure was meant to appear, which would be the telltale sign that “the end” has begun.  The obvious question is therefore: where is this mentioned if the letters of John are the only places (in the whole Bible)–much less earlier Jewish writings–that talk about this “antichrist”?  The honest answer is: we really have no clue.  At best, we have theories but nothing ironclad.  

There is a slim chance that this belief is a modified version of something that Jesus taught in Matthew 24.23-28 (or, the writer of John is correcting a misunderstanding of what people believe about Jesus’ teaching).  In that reference, in response to the (boneheaded) question of: “When will we know that the end is about to happen?”,  Jesus teaches that many “false Christs” and “false prophets” will emerge in order to lure the faithful away from the truth.  (He says other things, but we’ll deal with those in another post).  The reason this is slim is because “antichrist” is not the term used by Jesus—he uses “pseudo-christ”, which is not really the same thing. 

Finally, and this addresses the obvious dilemma, the writer of this passage in 1 John explicitly says that there is not just one antichrist—there are many.  This, by itself, creates problems for those who seek a singular person who will kick-off “the end”–a person who also happens to be the embodiment of evil, treachery, infamy, etc.  If anything, the fact that so many antichrists are present—from the writer’s perspective—simply (but massively) justifies his initial point: the “last hour” has already begun.  The fact that there are “many antichrists” is not a theological problem when we keep in mind what an antichrist really is, which takes us to the next couple of passages. 

Who is the liar if not the one who denies that Jesus is the Christ?  This is the antichrist—the one denying the Father and the Son (1 John 2.22)

I would like to say that this passage is clear and simple, but its really a bit vague in some respects.  However, this is the first passage where we see what it is that the antichrists teach, promote, stand for, etc.  This begins to set the boundaries for how someone is labeled an “antichrist.”  The teaching of the antichrists—in this passage—is a denial that Jesus is the divine-Messiah (or, Christ); or, to use Wolfhart Pannenberg’s terms: “the God-Man”. 

However, there is an even bigger denial at work in this passage.  This bigger denial is related to the sovereign will of the Father.  God’s plan, as promoted throughout the early church (and still today), was to send his Son as a substitutionary sacrifice, which would bring about the salvation of mankind and creation.  For the early believers, the reality of this overarching sovereign will of the Father began at the incarnation of Christ (or, the infleshing—a lovely neologism).  Therefore, to deny that Jesus was the divinely appointed incarnate Messiah would be to deny the validity of God’s plan.  The teaching of the antichrists does precisely that.[3] 

Beloved, you are not to believe every spirit but you are to test every spirit [to see] if they are from God, because many false-prophets have gone out into the world.  By this you will know the Spirit of God: every spirit that is from God confesses Jesus Christ as having come in the flesh, and every spirit that is not of God does not confess Jesus—this is the spirit of the antichrist, the one you have heard is coming and is now already in the world (1 John 4.1-3) 

Now we get to the more detailed version of the antichrist message.  Here we have the gist of the condemning statement that would definitely affix a, “Hello, My Name Is: Antichrist” sticker on someone’s shirt.  However, lest we become too ambitious, these is still a small degree of vagueness in this passage.  It is best understood in light of what has already been said–not only here in this post but, more importantly, what has been said in the letter itself.  It is also worthy to point out the re-emphasis of the fact that these antichrist figures are already present in the world at the time of the early church.

The controlling idea here is the issue of truth versus falsehood.  In typical dualistic fashion, there is a strong either-or at work.  On the one hand, there is the Spirit of God; on the other, there is the spirit of the antichrist.  There is no overlap.  On the one hand, there is an admission that Jesus Christ came in the flesh; on the other hand, there is a denial that Jesus came in the flesh.  There is no overlap–it’s either-or. Those who confess Jesus as coming in the flesh have the Spirit of God; those who deny Jesus coming in the flesh have the spirit of the antichrist.  This winds up being a question of status before God.  This is when matters get interesting.  

Now many deceivers have gone out into world—those not confessing that Jesus Christ as having come in the flesh: this is the deceiver and the antichrist (2 John 1.7)

The reason things get interesting with this passage is that it becomes another implied reference for the “origins” of the antichrists.   The implication is supported when we think back to the idea of false prophets, which can be found in 1 John 4.1 (quoted above).  By and large, false-prophets come from within the faithful.  It is when their falsehoods are made known that they are ousted from community of believers.  (Think back to the either-or dualism).  

So, in light of that, we can see here in this passage that the antichrists are those who emerge from within community of believers and their falsehood is that Jesus has not come in the flesh.  It is because of this falsehood (or, heresy, if you like) that they have “gone out into the world.”  They are removed because truth and falsehood cannot coexist–with both claiming to be truth.  If we are paying attention, this is why there is a slim chance this is a reference to Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 24.  The false-prophets in the letters of John nearly mirror (in what they do) the false-prophets in Matthew.  

SUMMARY OF THE ANTICHRISTS

So, is the antichrist–or, I should say: are the antichrists–some mysterious, evil, treacherous, infamous, apocalyptic (end-of-the-world) figure yet to appear in the world’s stage?  According to the common assumption, yes; according to what we see in these texts, not a chance.  An antichrist is nothing more than a false-teacher who deceives people into believing that Jesus Christ did not come in the flesh.  Instead, these false-teachers present “another Christ”, which is the literal translation of the Greek word, antichristos.  This is not to say that they did not believe in Jesus Christ, period; it simply suggests that they believe that Jesus did not come to the world in the flesh.

This belief is also why this group of false-teachers were ousted from the community of believers.  If the community stands for what is true, and if they adhere to what is true; then anyone in the community who speaks what is not true (regarding the person of Jesus), and yet they believe that what they speak is true; they must be removed because truth and falsehood regarding the person of Christ cannot coexist.  There is no, “Let’s just agree to disagree” (which is really a logical impossibility).  Either Jesus came in the flesh, or he did not.  If one believes that Jesus did, that person is of God; if one believes that Jesus did not, that person is an antichrist.  And guess what: there are plenty of antichrists–even today.  

Throughout this brief look at these four texts, I have been implying something that needs to be made explicitly clear.  One of the key features about these antichrists is that they are always defined as being human.  More importantly, with respect to how we are to understand these figures: these antichrist figures are never described as having divine or supernatural characteristics and they are never described as taking political office and having some Messiah-complex.  Also, they are never described as doing any of the things that are attributed to the “man of lawlessness” and the “beast out of the earth.”  Antichrists are simply false-teachers.  They simply profess that Jesus Christ did not come in the flesh.  That’s it.  

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[1] “Antichrist” is only found in 1 John 2.18, 22; 4.3; 2 John 1.7.  “Man of lawlessness” is only found in 2 Thessalonians 2.3. 
[2] There is a massive debate over the authorship of the three letters bearing the name, “John.”  I am not going to get into that debate—don’t really want to—so I will use the ambiguous title of, “writer”. 
[3] See also, John 15.23; cf. 5.23; 8.19; 14.7, 9; 16.3.

Points of revision (1 of 4)

HEADS UP 

I have decided to conduct a small(ish) discussion on a topic that has been around for some time, but has recently become faddish again–the reasons for which it has become faddish are rather disturbing.  This discussion will come in four stages.  First, this post will explain the reason for doing this as well as lay the groundwork for what I want to do with the whole discussion.  Then, three posts will follow–each providing a bit of information for why I think this discussion is relevant.  (A further explanation for this is given at the end of this post).  I might do a fifth posting to summarize everything, but we’ll see what happens.

I originally wanted to do this in one post, but it wound up getting the better of me–i.e., it was way too long.  (Those who know will not be surprised).  I have written on this before to individuals, and I have taught on this topic in various places.  That is to say: I’m not just shooting-from-the-hip on this.  What follows comes from a long period of reflection, study, and dialogue.  I readily admit that this sort of discussion is extremely delicate and controversial.  For those who wish to comment or ask questions, let’s try to keep things civil and adult-like.  

A BIT OF CONTEXT 

My wife and I are happy Facebookers, which means we not only have the ability to keep in touch with our friends, we also have the ability to see the expressed thoughts and feelings of those same friends–and sometimes more.  Recently, in light of the presidential election, a friend of one of my wife’s friends (gotta love Facebook references) said something like: “Hey, maybe Obama really is the Antichrist.”  In many ways, I was hoping that this remark was said tongue-in-cheek; but even then, it’s not necessary.  

It’s one thing not to like someone’s politics or what they stand for; it’s entirely another thing to attack who they are personally.  Calling someone “the Antichrist” (in the common use of that term) is problematic for me on so many different levels.  The most basic is that it is simply mean-spirited because it is ultimately a personal attack.  The more troublesome is that it is often said (in a mean-spirited way) without much understanding of what is actually being said.  In other words: people tend to have a bad, wrong, and/or poor understanding of what “the Antichrist” is.  Or, to borrow a line from a great movie: 

You keep using that word.  I do not think it means what you think it means.

A LITTLE MORE CONTEXT  

By and large, the common notion of “the Antichrist” has its roots in two interconnected circles of influence, which are anchored securely to a third.  The first is the collection of Christian fictional books known as the Left Behind Series, written by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins.  The second is less tangible than the first but it is conceptually absorbed almost as much: the so-called theological position of Dispensationalism, which, in many ways, is foundational to doctrinal positions within many denominations in America.  It is also the bedrock theological position for a small handful of leading (and influential) Christian colleges/seminaries in America.  And the third, the anchor for the previous two, is the pairing of John Nelson Darby (1800-1882) and Cyrus Ingerson Scofield (1843-1921).  Both of these men have gone down in history as the champions (and pioneers) of the Dispensationalist movement in America.

(Just for clarity: Dispensationalism has undergone significant revisions since its inception.  My concern here is not get into that discussion–it is too long.  My concern here is to analyze a particular view that stems from this theological position).  

These three points of influence have perpetuated an understanding of “the Antichrist” that is not only held without much questioning but is also promoted without much grounding in Scripture.  In other words: the way in which “the Antichrist” is spoken of by these points of influence is quite different from how “the Antichrist” is portrayed in the Bible.  What I want to do in this series of posts is offer a critique of this standard perception and offer some points of revision (or, clarification) in light of what is found in Scripture. 

COMMON ASSUMPTIONS  

Typically, when the term “the Antichrist” is used, it is often an off-handed reference to some evil, destructive, end-of-the-world figure who is yet to appear on the world’s stage.  The apparent underlying reason for “watching out” for this figure is because of the assumption that when he comes, the world will in fact come to an end.  The reasons for labeling someone “the Antichrist” are usually tied to preconceived notions about the character (or, essence) of the person in question–e.g., they are evil, treacherous, “infamous” (to borrow from another great movie), and/or have a serious Messiah-complex.  Because of these two assumptions, many different (singular) options have been offered throughout history.  But the question must be asked: what is the foundation for these assumptions?

The common answer to that question reveals another major assumption that is maintained without much thought.  More times than not, “the Antichrist” is portrayed the way he is because of various beliefs (or, interpretations) of what the Bible teaches.  These assumed beliefs (or, interpretations) strategically link three distinct teachings and claim they are all referring to the same person.  The teachings in question are: 1) the “Antichrist” in letters of John; 2) the “man of lawlessness” in 2 Thessalonians; and 3) the “beast from the earth” in Revelation 13.  It cannot be denied that when these three distinct teachings are held together and viewed as referring to a singular person, a rather dark and troublesome portrait emerges that would certainly make for a great book series.  (Oops. . .that slipped).

POINTS OF REVISION 

Now, I specifically said in the previous comment that the foundation for the common understanding of “the Antichrist” comes from “three distinct teachings”.  That specificity was intentional–as most specificity is.  However, when these teachings are examined in their own right, one is simply left scratching his or her head in trying to figure out how this common portrait of “the Antichrist” came from these teachings.  The next three posts will examine these three distinct teachings in their own right.  My hope is, at the end of this discussion, we will have not only a better understanding of what we mean by “the Antichrist” but also how speak on such things.