Overview of Hebrews: Grace and Gratitude

 Overview of Hebrews: Grace and Gratitude

David deSilva

 Typically, one of the least studied books of the New Testament, the Letter to the Hebrews—actually, a sermon— is designed to remind its initial readers of the incomparable gifts Christ has bestowed upon them.  The writer’s intent was to encourage its listeners to stay the course they had so ardently embraced against discouragement, oppression, doubts, and other pressures which tugged at their hearts. In the memorial words of the sermon writer:

 

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven,^[f] Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. ¹⁵ For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. ¹⁶ Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. (Hebrews 4:14-16)

 At the core of Hebrews is the vision of Jesus as the Son of God and the Son of Man. In the words of the powerful opening of the Sermon, we see in Hebrews, Jesus as the radiance of God’s glory, the exact imprint of his nature, who, in his humanity was tempted as we are in every way, as one who can sympathize with our weakness.  It was this Jesus, in bringing many sons and daughters to glory, who was made perfect through suffering, which, after making purification for the sins of humanity, sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high.

 It is this High Priest who passed through the heavens that deSilva, along with the sermon writer, presses us to hold fast against all the pressures which tempt us to hold back. For why should we neglect such a great salvation? This is the essential message of Hebrews, delivered as an oral sermon, the portrayal of Jesus as the more excellent way, higher than the angels, higher than Moses, higher than the high priests, more exalted than Melchizedek, who served as a type for Israel’s most perfect high priest. For this Christ has obtained a ministry that is much more excellent than those of old as the covenant he mediates is better, since it is enacted on better promises. (Heb 8:6).

 Because of the incomparable gift of God in and through Christ through whom we have access to the inner sanctuary of the holy of holies through the direct mediation of Jesus, we must pay closer heed. Otherwise, we will be tempted to drift away (2:1) from our first love, which was as much a temptation with the first century Church as it is with us, in our time. The preacher presses on: “how shall we escape such a great salvation” (2:3), who, once having heard the Word, and being profoundly moved by it, “harden our hearts as in the rebellion” (3:15), as in the time of Moses. Therefore, “today,” that is, in each moment, if we hear His voice, we are admonished not to harden our hearts, but to press on to fully embrace the unchangeable character of God’s promises, that we have in Jesus, “as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner, on our behalf, having become a high priest after the order of Melchizedek (Heb 6:19-20). This is the exhortative message of Hebrews that permeates the entire text of its 13 chapters. Both the sermon writer and deSilva have a message they want to deliver, which they pound home through the rhetorical power of their respective texts.

 In this study we will keep attuned to the ways in which the sermon writer encouraged its First Century audience to strengthen their commitment to the Son of Glory against the many pressures that pulled at them coming from various directions. This will serve as the basis for us to consider the ways the text speaks to us, notwithstanding the profound differences of our context from that of the original hearers of the sermon. The passages in Hebrews referred to, above, echo throughout the 13 chapters that comprise the sermon. In this magnificent presentation, designed to be verbally delivered, we catch only glimpses of the resonant power of the preacher that this majestically composed Greek text conveyed to the original hearers in a language and in imagery that they could readily grasp. Nonetheless, through a prayerful reading of the text, itself, and the guidance of DeSilva’s excellent commentary, I believe we can glimpse more than a little of the original power of the preacher’s message.

 The study is comprised of six chapters.

 1.      The Sermon’s Setting and the Son’s Glory Heb. 1:1-2:4

2.      Threshold Moments Heb. 2:5-4:13 on the importance of persevering in the faith

3.      Responding Gracefully to Grace Heb. 4:26-6:20 given the majestic power of God’s capacity to save to the uttermost

4.      A Full and Perfect and Sufficient sacrifice Heb. 7:1-10:18, the most technical portion of the sermon

5.      Faithful Response in Action Heb. 10:19-11:40, which includes Israel’s Hall of Fame (ch 11)

6.      A Summon to Persevere in Gratitude Heb. 12:1-13:25)

 

 

A Full and Perfect and Sufficient Sacrifice: Hebrews 7:1-10:18

 A Full and Perfect and Sufficient Sacrifice: Hebrews 7:1-10:18

Foreshadowing

During the past several weeks, we’ve highlighted the key themes and theological imagery that the sermon writer who composed Hebrews sought to convey. Today’s reading (Heb 7:1-10:18) is both the most technical and high point of the sermon, spotlighting the vision of Jesus as High Priest, the Mediator of the New Covenant. These themes have been foreshadowed in the preceding chapters, as highlighted below.

 The sermon opens with a majestic depiction of Jesus as “the radiance of the glory of God, the exact imprint of his nature, [who] after making purification for sins, sat down at the right hand of the majesty on high” (Heb 1:2-4). While there is no specific high priest imagery used here, the entire passage presupposes it.

 Almost in passing, the sermon writer identifies Jesus as providing help to the offspring of Abraham, who “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 the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted” (Heb. 2:17-18). These two passages lay out the entire range [the high and low points] of Jesus’ calling as High Priest of the New Covenant.

 In identifying Jesus as worthy of more glory than Moses, the sermon writer in Heb. 3:1-3 encourages us to “consider Jesus, the apostle and high priest of our confession. For [this] Jesus has been counted worthy of more glory than Moses—as the builder of the house has more honor than the house itself.”

 In a summary statement of all that preceded it, the author, in Heb. 4:14-16, sings high praise to Jesus, noting that “since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession.  For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” This passage is another recapitulation of Heb. 1:2-4 and Heb. 2:17-18.

 This leads to the extensive statement in Heb 5:1-10:

 “For every high priest chosen from among men is appointed to act on behalf of men in relation to God, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins. He can deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is beset with weakness. Because of this he is obligated to offer sacrifice for his own sins just as he does for those of the people. And no one takes this honor for himself, but only when called by God, just as Aaron was.” So also Christ did not exalt himself to be made a high priest, but was appointed by him who said to him,

‘You are my Son, today I have begotten you’; as he says also in another place, You are a priest forever, after the order of Melchizedek’ In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence. Although he was a son, he learned obedience through what he suffered. And being made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation to all who obey him, being designated by God a high priest after the order of Melchizedek.

 

Heb. 6:17-20 is a fitting summation, drawing us into the unalterable fidelity of God, one more time. In his words, ^“So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise [Abraham] the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath, so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie [ God’s promises and his oath], we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us.  We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek. The next four chapters will provide a great deal of illumination on what this means.

Hebrews 7:1-8:13 Jesus as High Priest and Mediator of a Better Covenant

 We have seen Jesus, greater than the angels, greater than Moses, greater than the Levitical priesthood, and now, in Chapters 7 and 8, greater than Melchizedek, who, in the sermon writer’s imagery is a type of that greater priesthood, referenced in Genesis 14:17-20 and memorialized in Psalm 110. The writer of Hebrews identifies this Melchizedek as the king of righteousness and king of peace (7:2), one resembling the Son of God who continues as a priest forever (7:3). Drawing on Psalm 110, the writer envisions this Son of God as the messianic Son of David called to redeem Israel. In Psalm 110:1, “the Lord says to my lord”—translated into early Christian theology as God saying to his Son, Jesus—you will "sit at my right hand until I make your enemies your footstool.” Pressing further into Psalm 110 we hear the key refrain which goes to the heart of the letter: “The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind, you are a priest forever in the order of Melchizedek (Psalm 110:4, Hebrews 7:15-17). As further articulated in Heb.7:23-28:

 

The former priests were many in number, because they were prevented by death from continuing in office, but he [Melchizedek/Jesus] holds his priesthood permanently, because he continues forever. Consequently, 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. He has no need, like those high priests, to offer sacrifices daily, first for his own sins and then for those of the people, since he did this once for all when he offered up himself. For the law appoints men in their weakness as high priests, but the word of the oath which came later than the law, appoints a Son [Heb; 1:2] who has been made perfect forever.

 Unlike the Levitical priesthood, who serve “a copy and a shadow of the heavenly things” “(8:5), “Christ has obtained a ministry that is much more excellent than the old [just] as the covenant he mediates is better since it is enacted on better promises” (Heb 8:6). Here, the writer is introducing a new element. Not only is Jesus introduced as a high priest in the order of Melchizedek. He is also ushering in a better covenant, “based on better promises” (Heb 8:6). “For if the first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no occasion to look for a second” (Heb 8:7) In this, the writer of Hebrews is drawing on another Old Testament motif, the New Covenant proclamation of Jeremiah the Prophet (Jer 31:31-34, Heb 8:8-12, deSilva, pp. 82-83).

 For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel

    after those days, declares the Lord:
I will put my laws into their minds,
    and write them on their hearts,
and I will be their God,
    and they shall be my people.
¹¹ And they shall not teach, each one his neighbor
    and each one his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’
for they shall all know me,
    from the least of them to the greatest.
¹² For I will be merciful toward their iniquities,
    and I will remember their sins no more” (Heb 8:10-12)

 In a capstone summary, the letter writer concludes, “In speaking of a new covenant, he [God] makes the first one obsolete. And what is obsolete and growing old is ready to vanish away” (8:13). This statement sets the stage for Chapters 9 and 10.

 Hebrews 9:1-10:18 Probing into the Higher Meaning

 In Chapter 9:1-10, the sermon writer draws on Leviticus 16:6-22 and Exodus 24:6-8 to highlight the role of the regular Leviticus priesthood, as well as the high priest, both of whom, according to the Preacher, exhibit the shadow of the substance of the living priesthood. In following the intent of the sermon writer, “of these things we cannot speak in detail” (Heb. 9:5). The key here is that the fulness of what the Levitical priesthood sought to represent is embodied in Christ, as underscored in Heb 9:11-14:

 When Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and more perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation) he entered once for all into the holy places [‘at the right hand of the majesty on high’ [Heb. 1:3], not by means of the blood of goats and calves but by means of his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls, and the sprinkling of defiled persons with the ashes of a heifer, sanctify for the purification of the flesh, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to serve the living God.

 As such, this high priest “is the mediator of a new covenant, so that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance, since a death has occurred that redeems them from the transgressions committed under the first covenant” (Heb 9:15). Thus, the death of Christ not only became instituted in his body and blood as the supreme sacrifice, opening the way for this high priest to enact the perfect atonement in transcending the Leviticus High Priest and Melchizedek, himself. But with such a sacrifice, he put to death the power of the law (the Old Covenant) to enact a New Covenant on better promises. Thus, the sermon writer speaks not only of the atoning sacrifice of Jesus as High Priest, but “the blood of the covenant” (Heb. 9:20), in which “without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins” (Heb. 9:22). What is at work here, is the subtle merging of Jesus as High Priest and Jesus as the mediator of the New Covenant, in which “Christ has entered, not into the holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true things, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf” (Heb 9:24). Unlike the Levitical high priest who offered himself yearly by entering into the holy places “with blood not his own” Heb. 9:25), Christ “appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. (Heb. 9:26).

 As the Sermon writer drew on Psalm 110 and Jeremiah 31:31-34 for imagery of the High Priest and New Covenant, in Ch. 10, he refers to Psalm 40:6-8 for another view of the supreme sacrifice of Christ as High Priest:

 Sacrifices and offerings you have not desired,

    but a body have you prepared for me;
 in burnt offerings and sin offerings
    you have taken no pleasure.
Then I said, ‘Behold, I have come to do your will, O God,
    as it is written of me in the scroll of the book Heb 10:5-7).

 The key phrase is “I have come to do your will” (Heb 10:9) “through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all” (Heb 10:10). Unlike the Levitical priests who offer “repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins,….when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God, waiting from that time until his enemies should be made a footstool for his feet” (Heb 10:12-13). “For by a single offering, he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified” (Heb 10:14). For it is nothing less than the incomparable Holy Spirit, that bears witness to this singular act saying,

 This is the covenant that I will make with them after those days, declares the Lord:

I will put my laws on their hearts, and write them on their minds,” then he adds,

“I will remember their sins and their lawless deeds no more.” Where there is forgiveness of these, there is no longer any offering for sin (Heb 10:16-18).

 The themes highlighted in these four chapters go to the heart of the entirety of Hebrews and will be further amplified in Hebrews11-13.

Encountering Walter Brueggermann

Posted on the Theotalk Listserv in 2005.  Brueggemann was a major influence on my faith journey at a critical point in time.

Walter Brueggemann’s theology strength, in my view, in addition to his profound understanding of the Bible, especially the Old Testament, is his knowledge of post-reformation theology and his powerful exegesis, as exemplified in his various collections of essays.  Also, extremely provocative is his tapping into the imagination as the most potent means of linking the biblical text to the ethos of the contemporary setting.  In this respect he may be viewed as the apostle to the postmodern secularists.  In this capacity he would play a formidable role in the UCC God is still speaking campaign http://www.stillspeaking.com/intro1.htm. For those on the margins of faith and doubt, WB, on personal testimony, offers an extremely powerful way of re-entering the strange new world within the Bible that for many, more dogmatic approaches would not have been convincing.  The seeming irrelevance of the Bible is a phenomenon that shapes the thinking of more than a few who attend mainline (or perhaps even evangelical) congregations, who, at some level, are still seeking a Word where one has not been found for a long time.  The deep influence of secularization, even in the midst of our congregations, is a factor that cannot be lightly dismissed, in which the pastoral call very well may be, in WB’s terms, that “funding” of the Word of God, one verse, one miracle, one revelation at a time, in which to attempt more could very well turn into sterile bibliolatry.  I hope it is clear that I am speaking at the level of reception and I am speaking for some and not for all. 

 In any event WB played a very similar role with me that Jurgen Moltmann did some years earlier in opening up the hermeneutical possibility that God could speak a vital Word through his text.  I spent a good part of two years pouring over everything I could get my hands on by WB. In the process of following the trajectory of his interpretations, I also read substantial portions of the OT.

 I also experienced some limitations, such as WB’s privileging of some texts over the others, which I interpret as at least partially contradicting the spirit of 2 Timothy 3:16, “All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness.”  While WB might have viewed it as ironic, my re-encountering the Bible through his theology pushed me toward an evangelical faith retrieval of some enduring stability, which I needed to reclaim if the Christian faith were going to prevail in my life in a compellingly vital way.  This retrieval— illuminated, as far as I could discern by the Holy Spirit—has depended, in no small measure, on the capacity to embrace the Bible full without privileging certain texts over others, as the very source of my ultimate vocabulary. 

 The second, and related limitation I find in WB, is, notwithstanding the “existential” power of his “funding” of postmodernity one text, one miracle, one revelation at a time, is that I simply could not fathom how, at least, I could construct a stable religious life from that basis, or how a congregation could establish an ecclesiology which could mediate the religious needs and passions of a congregation from week to week.

 I could imagine, in theory, a postmodern/post-Christian congregation, which gathered week-to-week from their travails within the secular city.  This ideal congregation would encounter the Word once again through the imaginative dynamic of the charismatic preacher who would reach those in the pews through the indwelling power of the Holy Spirit, where the Word would come alive, once again one verse, one miracle one revelation at a time.  I do believe this is a place where many people, and perhaps congregations in such denominations like the United Church of Christ are, and in this respect, the voice coming out of the theology of WB may very well be the authentic Word of God that such a congregation may need to hear.  Interpreted from this vantage pint WB is an authentic UCC voice that needs to be thoroughly heard and respected within the Confessing Christ network, at least as a viable Kairotic option of where a certain sector of the faith community may be in our secular era of modernity/ postmodernity  http://confessingchrist.net/.

 Yet, if taken as the gospel itself, or as THE authoritative theology of our times, WB’s vision could also be viewed as extremely repressive and oppressive to boot.  The possibility for a thoroughly biblically based evangelical encounter through the likes of Bloesch, Vanhoozer, Barth, Henry, Fackre, Lints, and others is also a critical need which has been profoundly repressed within the mainline denominations going back to the struggles with fundamentalism at the beginning of the 20th century.  In order to get at the root of these issues, the historical dynamics that lent them their intensity would need to be imaginatively re-encountered and reconstructed.  That is work for another message. 

 

Dialogue on Philosopher, John Dewey and Religion

 This is from a listerv discussion that I carried out with a now, unknown interlocuter on the  relationship between the traditional orthodox Christian understanding of God the pragmatic philosopher, John Dewey's appropriation of the term, "god," that he sought to interpret through exclusively on naturalistic terms. The dialogue also references on Dewey's 1884 essay, "On the Obligation to Know God," which he wrote in his avowedly Christian faith, which he later abandoned. I am pressing Dewey to own that obligation. 

BD: Dewey said that we have no warrant to believe in a supernatural God, and so we shouldn’t. 

 GD:  “No warrant” is a strong claim for a consistent fallibilist.  Agnosticism with an open mind would be the more reasonable position.  In terms of warrant, as a fallible presupposition, at least in terms of a biblically based belief (“we see in a glass darkly”), we have the witness of the Bible writers themselves, and the continuation of the basic biblical narrative, including many autobiographies, which range over hundreds of years over a wide geographic span.  This includes highly informed contemporary expositors, many of whom have grappled profoundly with the relationship between faith (what the NT describes as “the faith that was once delivered to the saints,” Jude, vs 3) and the challenges of modernity/postmodernity like N.T. Wright. http://www.ntwrightpage.com/. I do no offer this as proof.  I do offer it in light of your claim of “no warrant,” what the writer of the epistle to the Hebrews refers to as “a mighty cloud of witnesses” (Heb 11:1).

 BD: Why shouldn’t Dewey “work against” theism if he believed it wrong?  You could say that anyone who expressed himself strongly is unreasonably prejudiced against the belief he opposed. 

 GD:  No problem there, but in doing so Dewey’s concept of religion, and even “the religious,” at least from the perspective of radical monotheism and 2000-2500 years of history is highly truncated.  If he described what he was getting at as “plenitude of being” I would have no objection.  And then when he injects the term “God” to define either the operation beneath the formation of the more “inclusive whole,” or the inclusive whole as such (I’m not sure), then I object to his naturalistic appropriation of the concept of God, which in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam means something fundamentally different than what Dewey was getting at.

 BD: I agree with Dewey: belief in the supernatural is not just a wrong opinion, it is a dangerous one that has caused much mischief.

 GD:  As a fallibalist, it would be illegitimate for Dewey to have made such a claim, which is not the same as identifying certain problems with traditional religious beliefs—traditions that at least in part have evolved a great deal through history while maintaining an underlying identifiable and durable framework.  Religion can be dangerous.  So can atheism and agnosticism.  So can life.  Still, we need to decide and attempt to live by the consequences and implications of our choices.  Moreover, notwithstanding certain abuses, which would pertain to many areas of life, I submit that it is doctrinaire simply to assert flat out that religion, ipso facto, is dangerous, or for that matter, wrong.  From a knowledge perspective, a questioning agnosticism would seem to me the more reasonable stance.  Even then, “prejudices” are unavoidable.  Hans Georg Gadamar as quoted from Truth and Method gets at this:

 Prejudices are not necessarily unjustified and erroneous, so that they inevitably distort the truth.  In fact, the historicity of our existence entails that prejudices, in the literal sense of the word, constitute the initial directedness of our whole ability to experience.  Prejudices are biases of our openness to the world.  They are simply conditions whereby we experience something—whereby what we encounter says something to us.  This formulation certainly does not mean that we are enclosed within a wall of prejudices and only let through the narrow portals those things that can produce a pass saying, “Nothing new will be said here.”  Instead we welcome just that guest who promises something new to our curiosity.

 BD: Why criticize Dewey for not reading theologians if he knew that they supported the concept of a supernatural God?  Do you think if he had (assuming he didn’t) it would that have invalidated his position? 

 GD: If religion was his topic of focus why wouldn’t he take a serious look at what various contemporary theologians have written?  By not doing so he severely limited the range of the scope of his probing. In terms of your second question, it could have even strengthened his argument, but in any event would have forced him to have made his case in response to 20th century theological perspectives of some substantive worth rather than the straw men of his caricature.  He might have been re-converted.  While this may seem facetious, the prospect is based on the assumption that Dewey, at some level repressed, or at least profoundly sublimated the obligation of knowledge of God, which, if he lent his mind, heart, strength, and soul to it an empathetic reading of Barth’s, The Epistle to the Romans http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0195002946/103-0467076-4409414?v=glance&n=283155 might have re-ignited. Greater miracles of such reversals have been known to have happened.  Of course, by that time Dewey was in his anti-German phase, but that’s another matter that Jim Good describes in the last chapter of his excellent new book, A Search for Unity in Diversity:  The “Permanent Hegelian Deposit” in the Philosophy of John Dewey.

 BD: Did Barth publish empirical data? 

 GD:  I’m not sure.  I suppose that would depend in part on definition.  I can say that in his multi-volume theological texts he examined a great many topics in considerable detail and knew a fair amount about the intellectual currents of his time, particularly Feurbach Marx, Nietzche, and Freud, as well as the prevailing tenets Protestant liberalism, both of which his “neo-orthodox” faith sought to address.  Perhaps he was empirically-focused based on the subject matter of his topic, in an analogous way, say to Dewey’s best works http://www.island-of-freedom.com/BARTH.HTM.

BD: Your position reminds me of Dosteovky’s “Grand Inquisitor” who told Jesus the people needed someone to tell them what to do.  Dewey would say we should persuade people to think clearly without bias, then enough people would accept the best morality of the situation.  Dewey had trust in the common people. 

 GD: Christianity is a lot more complex than that, which includes very clear thinking, personal responsibility, and highly focused commitment.  In terms of bias, at some level, in the Gadamerian sense, it is unavoidable, which is obviously the case with Dewey.  Specifically, he had a bias toward naturalism and a bias against revealed religion, including the religion in which he was raised, and which at least partially formed his early adulthood, a viewpoint capsulated in his talk on “The Obligation of Knowledge of God.” A fair reading of the New Testament would show a Christian vision. in which the world was turned upside down.  The Kingdom of God as preached by Jesus the Christ is anything but elitist, a reversal Nietzsche could not grasp, particularly in his analysis of Paul.  While Christ and the early church preached to and healed the poor Jesus did not romanticize them.  Rather, he brought “good news” to rich and poor alike, but only by entering into the kingdom that he preached, by the narrow gate.

 

Faith and Politics: Contrastive Perspectives

  This was initially printed in my hometown newspaper, the East Hartford Gazette

A few weeks ago, the East Hartford Gazette published a letter written by a self-identified Christian who expressed his views on the critical issues that established his political values in determining which candidate best supported his positions. I am grateful for this writer for identifying the importance of public issues in shaping his faith and in their significance in relation to the political climate of our times. I also admire the writer’s civility in expressing his views and in honoring the confidentiality of the local politicians he contacted to obtain their perspective on his views.

The writer identified three central issues that formed his public theology: abortion, homosexuality, and “religious freedom.” All these topics can be debated within Christianity, as well as throughout US society through a more pluralistic set of perspectives. The positions argued for by the writer contain considerable cultural force because of their central role within the religious right as a powerful social movement, rooted in a morally absolutist frame of reference, which I believe are not central to the primary teachings of Jesus of Nazareth, as reflected in the Sermon on the Mount.

An adequate discussion of the letter writer’s position requires more space than I can respond to here. On abortion, I can only acknowledge that a fetus, even at the earliest stages, is, in some respect, a form of human life. Five matters remain disputable: whether a fetus is an “unborn child,” whether the legal status of a human being starts at birth or conception, whether the legal elimination of abortion is the best and only legitimate way of addressing this issue, whether one can personally oppose abortion while accepting choice as legally legitimate, and whether legal priority should be granted to a woman’s right to establish her own reproductive freedom.

My point is that these issues are under debate across the faith-based sector, in which there is no singular Christian perspective on them. As with abortion, so it is a similarly complex matter regarding homosexuality and what is referred to as “religious freedom,” the specifics of which I leave for another discussion. I do not reject, so much, the validity underlying a given stance on any of these issues—though I question some of these points of view more than others—than the intellectual certainty and moral absolutism on which they are typically held.

I view these public stances as ultimately secondary matters, which require considerable probing from a variety of ethical, legal, and theological perspectives when contrasted to the primary ones of faith on the core relationship between God, Christ, and humanity in regard to matters of temporal and eternal destiny.  When such secondary matters as these are so held as primary, they are given a false power they do not merit. To be clear, it is not so much a particular view that concerns me—even ones with which I heartily disagree—as to the unconditional manner in which they are held, which I view as an attempt to attribute divine authority for positions that are not meant to bear that much baggage. As implied above, the views expressed by the writer are at the center of an ideological framework grounded in the merger between a political and religious fundamentalism of an extreme conservative ideology extending back to the early Reagan era, which has linked faithfulness to Christ with allegiance to the Republican Party.

My own political beliefs are based on a different set of values, focusing on social and economic justice, racial equality, the importance of responsible governmental regulation to offset the undue influence of an unregulated corporate sector, the need for an effective long-range response to the environmental crisis, and immigration reform. To this last issue, I include a robust refugee policy reflective of the vast financial and geographic resources of the US, our historical legacy as a nation of immigrants, and as one reasoned response to the crisis that millions of people face throughout the world provoking them to leave their homelands amid much turmoil and oppression.

The formation of my political beliefs was rooted in an educational framework that developed before my conversion to Christianity in 1972. These views were largely reinforced by my religious values, as reflected in certain gospel teachings in support of the poor and the outcast, as well as to themes related to loving the world and social justice pervasive throughout the Bible.  Like those of the letter writer, my views are also contestable.  Also, like him, I maintain that the political beliefs expressed by the various constituencies throughout the household of faith are worthy of public scrutiny given their potential influence throughout the body politic, even if they cannot carry the theological weight certain advocates on both sides of the political terrain would like to attribute to them.

Facticity and Revelation in Grappling with the Relationship Between the Jesus of History and the Christ of Faith

A discussion post from a seminar on the historical Jesus at Bethel Seminary in 2020

No escape into pure facticity is possible among human actors seeking to address the actions, motivations, and influences of and on the historical Jesus—which itself, is a literary artifact. While also invariably worldview-shaped, a judicious use of evidence, critical reasoning, and analysis of existing perspectives can help establish a more discerning understanding of the historical Jesus. Those whose primary theory of knowledge is heavily shaped by materialist presuppositions will discount any literal interpretation of miracles attributed to Jesus in the gospels, including resurrection sightings, regardless as to how extensive the evidence may be according to the literary and historical resources.  Those who hold an inerrant view of Scripture will tend to accept the authenticity of the miracle stories and the resurrection narratives even though they may seem to contradict commonly accepted views of science and are contrary to the standards of analogical comparability—that of interpreting what was plausible in ancient history to that which is similarly so in the contemporary era. So, if miracles don’t occur in our times, they could not have occurred in biblical times (See Dawes, 28, on Troelsch). 

A third school of thought points to fundamental differences between what we can know though historical research and what comes to us through the revelation of the Christ of faith (Kasemann).  Some in this camp accept the general validity of the critical scholarship on the historical Jesus for what it discloses—something of the historical personage and his times—while making the primary point that what is of ultimate significance is the revelation of Christ, which can only be perceived through the revealed Word of God.  Between these two sources of knowledge—both highly partial in their own ways—there is an ineradicable gap which cannot be easily crossed.  Stated in other terms, the finite cannot contain the infinite in mediating the gap between history and faith.

Others (Bultman) maintain that the gap is not so much a purely philosophical one, but has to do with the radical difference in the historical times between that of the Palestinian world view of the first century and the modern world view of the 20^th and 21^st centuries.  According to Bultmann, what is of ultimate significance is the relevance of Christ’s universal message (the kerygma) in addressing the existential needs of people in the modern era.  While there may be much in the teaching of Jesus that speaks to these matters, there is also much that does not.  Nor does the constructed “three-story” world of the 1^st century (heaven, earth, hell) or its apocalyptic imagery make sense in light of current cosmological interpretations based on contemporary physics, biology, history, anthropology, and sociology.

I gravitate toward the third school, with the caveat that there is a good deal that can be known about the historical Jesus that additional research will likely further illuminate.  Nonetheless, given the ultimate grounding of revealed faith, I’m not so sure that “history,” as an academically disciplined body of study, has the capacity to disclose anything of absolute significance at that level.  Still, early Christianity, as a religious movement self-consciously rooted in historical claims, a great deal of knowledge may well be opened up about the life of the founder that can be highly useful as a resource for our understanding of history and for our faith.

 

Does the Epicenter Hold?

Initially published on the Theotalk listserv in 2002 or 2003. My understanding of Christianity has gone through many changes since then, but the position described below s a real place where more than a few of those grappling with the meaning of Christianity in their lives confront "the faith which was once for all delivered to the saints" (Jude 3).

This discussion on what we do and can believe is one of the most important ones that I've ever witnessed on this list or anywhere else for that matter. I raise a few questions.

 ·           Is Christ is the way, the truth, and the life like no other, or is Christ a way, a truth, and a viable path to follow in opening doors to the holy, transcendence, or the more authentic life, however that may be defined?  This is a provocative question which I believe needs to be addressed in a range of forums, yet in a manner that cogently grapples with the historical impact of the traditional view that still shapes much of current Christian thinking.

 ·           Is the Christ story a myth or is it rooted in literal historical experience linked to the Jewish prophetic heritage and a belief in the physical Resurrection of Christ as a historical reality?  In a recent book, Garry Dorrien refers to Christ as "true myth."  If one were to push this, one might say, "Christ as a true myth.”

 The question of how do we know or to come to know is a major issue that requires resolution if 21st century people who live their daily lives in the secular arena are to make sense of the Christ experience.  A person shares the following:

  It makes us insecure, I guess, to have a truly living God, one whose many aspects we are ceaselessly discovering, one who turns up in the unlikeliest of places, one who constantly challenges us, one who consistently pushes and prods us into relationship with God and with each other and with all of creation, one who cannot be reduced to a cosmic machine (put in the right formula, and the right result will follow).  Personally, I fell in love with that living God a long time ago, and I don't understand any more now that I did then -- nor am I richer, more successful, or even necessarily happier, in fact just the opposite.  But I know I am in a living relationship with a living Being on whom I can depend.  How do I know that (what's the epistemology here)?  From a lame, hard-to-describe mixture of experience, reflection, praxis, more reflection, personal revelation (including Scripture and worship), collective experience, more reflection...

 That is profound in every respect, though it still depends on where one is coming from.  If I am already basing my life on the central tenets of the Christian revelation, where it matters not whether one’s beliefs are based on "true myth" or historical revelation, then praxis, reflection, dialogue, Scripture, and worship are very much in order as the primary means of strengthening one's faith even in the midst of faith seeking understanding.  From this epicenter many of the questions that others and I have raised do not matter very much, as it is more than a little true, in any event, that belief itself is a form of understanding.  By believing, I come to understand certain things that would not otherwise be available to me through a studied stance of doubt or skepticism in a quest for knowledge alone.  From this base, it is Christ and Christ alone that I seek to know and to strengthen as the center of my identity, regardless as to how open I may be to other insights and other faith and secular traditions.  Whether it is true in fact, based on the epicenter of faith, for me, Christ is "the truth, the way and the life," like no other.  In the final analysis, that is all I need to know as long as faith remains the primary narrative of my life. Based on this line of thinking, I would also agree that one of the main purposes of congregational life and theology is to strengthen this faith walk stemming from the epicenter, even in the liberal denominations.  In whatever manifestations The Way may be ultimately interpreted, even the outer boundary of liberal congregationalism needs to somehow make sense of the mystery and accept the revelation, regardless as to how it enters into the lives of individuals or is interpreted.  Even liberal congregationalism needs to believe based on faith even, nay, especially, while striving to understand, lest the very prize be lost in the process of seeking surer knowledge.

However, for many, the epicenter no longer holds as the foundational source for believing.  For many, identity and consciousness are experienced pluralistically.  For many, this results in a rejection of the epicenter and an embrace of a life lived without the Christian revelation as a dominant source of identity.  The question for the liberal Christian community is (that is for those who do not reject the path of Christ at least as A Way), whether they have a God-shaped vacuum that can only be filled by the revelation of Christ?  Or, rather, whether they are able to live their lives equally well based on other myths or worldviews they may deem appropriate, without at the same time, rejecting the Christian narrative that plays some, not totally clear bearing on their lives?  If one holds that the vacuum is the core reality of human existence, then that requires some coming to terms with the exclusivity of Christ, however liberally adhered.  If one believes, rather, that there are various paths through which one can live their lives with authenticity, meaning, and love, then that would necessitate some coming to terms with the more radical implications of a more relativistic Christ.  That, in turn, would also require some rejection or modification of the claim that Christ is the truth, the way and the life, except for its existential value for the unique individual who may adhere to such doctrine.   Even then, if it is The Way that is subject to intensive immanent critique among the liberal household of faith, even that existentialist belief still requires some cogent articulation of the reasons for such adherence.

Taking this a step further, what do these issues have to do with liberal congregationalism in a post-Christian and postmodern culture and society?  In an earlier era, where many within the congregations and even in the broader society believed in, or at least did not directly challenge the epicenter, the church could afford to focus predominantly on The Story, regardless as to how literal or how figurative one took it. The issue at this time is that it is The Way as a singular, dominant narrative that is under profound scrutiny, even within the Christian community itself.  Outside the camp, there are wide sectors of people who do not believe or think about religious faith at all, who would view it to the extent they may think of it, as quaint, irrelevant, ludicrous, and in some cases, dangerous.  Not that much of this is fair or represents careful thought.  Nonetheless, this secular reality, including its legitimacy as a worldview needs to be addressed by the liberal Christian community in an unequivocally direct manner.

One of the needs of a 21st Christian liberal theology is to identify non-exclusive, but substantial ways of entering into public dialogue in a variety of settings in such arenas as business, law, politics, and academia.  At least in theory, this quest has been one of the compelling engagements of Hartford Seminary, as reflected in their simultaneous commitment to lay ministry and in the sustained dialogue the school promotes between Islamic and Christian scholars.  This effort needs to be more public and permeate more of the routine activities of congregational life.  While being open, tolerant, and inclusive, it also requires (I believe), ways to articulate Christian understandings and teachings as they may relate to these different sectors, so that a religious epistemology can enter into public discourse as an equal opportunity partner.  This requires subtle, complex work, but if Christianity is going to flourish in the 21st century outside of evangelical and fundamental sectors, it is going to have to find its voice in the public sector.  Such work will involve much more than praxis and reflection (though will require that!).  It will also require a publicly coming to terms and grappling with some of the most difficult issues facing postmodern liberal Christianity residing in the midst of the secular city in the articulation of its own voice amidst the complex pluralism of modern western existence.  This, it will need to do while experiencing the counter-pressure of the multitude of voices of fundamentalism and evangelicalism clamoring for security, certainty, and domination.

The question, then, for many of us who have been informed by a Christian sensibility, but do not necessarily embrace the epicenter as foundational, is the meaning of Christian identity within the context in which we live.  Many things at this time are wide open about faith, including sources of revelation, how we know or even how we can believe, particularly if the desire to believe is not uniform or central; or if there is little compelling reason to believe, particularly on the more exclusive tenets of Christ as the way, the truth, and the life?   What does it mean to embrace Christ as a way, a truth, and as a life even in the midst of embracing other identities?  What does it mean if the center does not hold?