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Ascension: The Locus of Atonement in Hebrews

~ Mike Skinner ~ 3 Comments

David Moffitt made his mark on the world of biblical studies with his impressive dissertation “Atonement and the Logic of Resurrection in the Epistle to the Hebrews.” In it, he argues against the long-standing viewpoint that Jesus’ resurrection plays little role in the soteriology of the book of Hebrews. Most modern scholars have seen the crucifixion, through the lens of a sacrificial typology, as the primary place and moment of Jesus’ atoning work. Moffitt largely builds on the work of Old Testament scholars who have proven that 1) the atonement accomplished by blood offerings like Yom Kippur were not focused on the actual slaughter of the animal but on the presentation/sprinkling of the blood and that 2) the blood represents the life of the sacrifice and not its death. Thus, using a typology of Yom Kippur, Jesus’ sacrifice triggers a series of events that leads to atonement, but is itself not sufficient or primary in the accomplishment of atonement. Moffitt uses these conclusions to argue for the primacy and importance of the resurrection in the book of Hebrews (see a good summary and review here).

While I think Moffitt is largely on the right track and much of his exegetical work on Hebrews is incredibly important, I can’t help but wonder if there is a glaring flaw in his conclusion. That is, Jesus’ bodily resurrection does not guarantee or accomplish atonement (in Hebrews itself or in Moffitt’s reading of Hebrews). It is the ascension of the bodily resurrected Christ into Heaven which does this – as he presents his blood in the actual Holy of Holies. A post-crucifixion embodied life is certainly necessary for this, but is itself just an event in the process which leads to the atonement. A resurrected Jesus, still walking around on earth, has not truly accomplished atonement according to the typology utilized in the book of Hebrews. At many points, Moffitt seems to recognize and appreciate this, yet it never seems to make a big enough impression to truly shape his conclusion.

I preached a sermon series last year on the doctrine of the Ascension, a doctrine that is mind-bogglingly  overlooked by many churches and theologians. Western churches and theologians usually tack the Ascension on as an afterthought to the Resurrection (at best), without giving thought to the specific theological work that it accomplishes and continues to accomplish in the theo-drama of God’s redemptive plan through Christ and the Spirit.  As I studied and prepared for the series, I realized how little I knew about the biblical and theological significance of the Ascension and, even more sadly, how little significant scholarship has been written about it.

However, Hebrews stands out among all of our canonical literature as exalting the Ascension as the praiseworthy and effectual moment of atonement. In fact, the data made me go back and listen to a sermon series I preached through the book of Hebrews years before and, to my embarrassment, I practically overlooked (or downplayed) the endless references to the Ascension. Like the scholars Moffitt critiques, my attention was so focused on the crucifixion (largely because of a poor understanding of the levitical sacrificial system) that I could hardly muster the cognitive or theological energy to look anywhere else.

Now, however, not only do I see the importance of the resurrection in the book of Hebrews – I also see the locus of atonement as happening in heaven at the time of the ascension. Why do we give so little attention to the  ascension as opposed to the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus? Maybe because it is more theological and metaphysical? Maybe because we’ve overlooked its importance in the Scriptures? Regardless, I can no longer deny this truth: THE ASCENSION MATTERS. While the incarnation, life and ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus are all vitally important to God’s work of salvation and to our faith – the ascension must be understood as equally important and praiseworthy.

What do you think?

Have you noticed a tendency in churches or theology to overlook or downplay the importance of Jesus’ ascension?
If so, why do you think that is?

Do you agree that perhaps there is more biblical and theological weight put on the work of Jesus’ ascension than is often recognized?

Where else, other than Hebrews, might we be downplaying the importance of the ascension in the canonical literature?

Christmas Calvinism: The Grammar of Luke 2:14

~ Mike Skinner ~ 4 Comments

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace
among people with whom he is pleased.”
– Luke 2:14 [NET]

Until a few days ago, I’ve always read this verse in a Calvinistic way (I’ll use the term “exclusivist” for the rest of this post). That is to say, the peace being announced here is for a select group of individuals (not all of humanity) who have pleased God. Indeed, this is is how the ESV, NIV, and NRSV all steer their readers, replacing the above noun “people” with the pronoun “those” for a phrase that reads similar to “peace among those with whom his favor rests/he is pleased.”

However, I recently heard a sermon where the preacher read the text in a very inclusive way. That is to say, he read the peace being announced here as for all people, who as a collective, have God’s pleasure. The NET (quoted above) and NASB both leave this reading as an option, depending on how you mentally organize the clause. Does the phrase “with whom he is pleased” describe the type of people who are recipients of this peace or is it more of a simple description of the broad category of “people/humanity”? Thus reading: “Peace on earth among people/humanity, with whom he is pleased.”

It’s easy to see the various theological leanings which would play into how one chooses to read this verse. Surely God is not pleased with everybody, right? Or could it simply be God’s pleasure to send the Incarnate Son to redeem his perfectly loved, if not damaged, Image Bearers? Indeed, just before this angelic announcement there is another very inclusive phrase from the lips of the divine messenger: “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people (παντὶ τῷ λαῷ).” [Lk. 2:10]

I know there are some issues with the Greek (and variant manuscripts) of this verse (see below*), but . . .

What do you think?
Should Luke 2:14 be read in an exclusive or inclusive way?
Why or why not?

Greek text of Luke 2:14 (marked off as poetry)

δόξα ἐν ὑψίστοις θεῷ
καὶ ἐπὶ γῆς εἰρήνη
ἐν ἀνθρώποις εὐδοκίας

A quick consult with some of my more proficient Greek friends offered no help as to why exactly different translators have made the decisions they did or as to whether the Greek gives a definitive nod toward an exclusive or inclusive reading.

Jesus the Interpreter: Divine Violence in the Old Testament

~ Mike Skinner ~ 1 Comment

“We may perhaps be allowed to look forward to a new day, in which Jesus himself is acknowledged, in his own right, as a thinking, reflecting, creative and original theologian.” – NT Wright[1]

I am committed to non-violence because I am committed to Jesus.[2] As a non-violent Christian, I’m commonly asked some form of the following question: “How can you think that God is nonviolent or that his people must always act nonviolently when there are so many examples in the Old Testament of God acting violently or encouraging such behavior?”

It’s a good question and one of the biggest obstacles for most Christians when they consider adopting a non-violent ethic.[3] However, I’ve always thought that this is a question that can actually be punted to Jesus himself. That is to say, I believe a more illuminating form of the question would look like this:

How could Jesus think that God is nonviolent and expects his people to be nonviolent in light of the many Old Testament texts that seem to contradict this?

 Of course this question assumes two things:

  • First, that Jesus was familiar with the major stories & themes of the Old Testament (including those that depict God as violent and his people as acting violently in obedience to God’s commands.[4]
  • Second, that Jesus still believed & taught that God was nonviolent and likewise expected his followers to be nonviolent.[5]

If both of these assumptions are true,[6] we are faced with important questions: How did Jesus interpret these texts? What was his hermeneutical logic? And even more to the point, are Christians obligated to agree with his conclusions, even if we aren’t necessarily predisposed to agree with his interpretations?

We might not normally think of Jesus as a biblical interpreter or theologian, but we should. After all, he grew up in a religious environment surrounded by many different popular interpretations of his religious tradition. In this context, Jesus inherited, learned, formed, and communicated very specific beliefs about what God was like and what he expected of his people. In so doing, he also explicitly and forcefully rejected certain interpretations & expectations that were popular during his lifetime.

I have to imagine that Jesus was often confronted about his non-violent teachings, especially by the more revolutionary Jewish groups common during the first-century. In Matthew 5, he preemptively and explicitly rejects the Old Covenant law of retaliation in favor of a new, radical ethic of nonviolence. In Luke 6, Jesus tells his disciples to “love your enemies, and do good and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.” It’s not a stretch to picture Simon the Zealot disagreeing with Jesus’ assessment of the Father as a merciful enemy-lover. “Jesus, are you not aware that God commanded the slaughter of men, women, and children who stood against his people?” What would Jesus’ response be? Would he recant or qualify his statement? Or would he provide an alternate interpretation and assume that it is more authoritative than any other reading of the text that would lead to a different conclusion?

This problem is even more acute in an account in Luke 9 where Jesus rebukes his disciples for attempting to imitate a story from the Old Testament by calling down fire on their enemies in (cf. 2 Kings 1:9-12). I can imagine the disciples reminding Jesus of this beloved Old Testament story – what was his response? How did he read such texts and come to such different conclusions than many of his day (and our day)? I believe that these sorts of questions are some of the most important ones to be asked in any conversation about Jesus and violence.

Jason Micheli recently offered an excellent post attempting to answer a question of this nature: How did Jesus read Psalm 94 and it’s cry for vengeance against enemies while at the same time commanding and embodying a responsibility to love his enemies? Read his engaging post here: Jesus’ Enemy Loving Offensive. Jason’s attempt embodies the posture Christians should take when engaging Old Testament texts that seem to contradict Jesus’ own teachings and example.

I can’t help but think that Christians are making a fundamental mistake when we use the Old Testament to qualify or change the teachings of Christ. It strikes me as odd that we might imagine our interpretations of various Old Testament texts to be more authoritative than Christ’s. Did Jesus not know about these Old Testament texts? Did he misread them? Can we qualify correct Jesus’ teachings because we are better equipped to read the Tanakh?

My evaluation of the current conversation surrounding God & Old Testament violence is that we have lost our interpretative imagination under the weight of years of tradition and cultural influences. The Old Testament is not as clear on the issue of violence as one might think. There are plenty of ways to interpret the classic “texts of terror” in ways that lead logically to Jesus’ non-violence. Again, I suggest reading Jason Micheli’s enlightening post. Other options remain: perhaps we should acknowledge a multiplicity of voices in the Old Testament (some more peaceful, even promising a future of peace), perhaps a reading of the “texts of terror” in light of comparable ANE texts would reveal a fairly radical non-violent trajectory, or perhaps the point of the cumulative narrative of the Old Testament is that violence did not ultimately accomplish God’s Kingdom. These are just a few of the many possibilities for reading the Old Testament in a way congruous with Jesus’ life and teachings. But these are the types of readings that I believe Jesus forces us to explore.

 

[1] Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, 479.
[2] I find myself unable to avoid the conclusions that Jesus unequivocally commands his followers to act nonviolently and also personally modeled this nonviolent commitment with his own life. I’m also unable to ignore a theological conviction that the historic life of Jesus, as portrayed in the Gospels, is the clearest and most complete revelation of the character and will of the Triune God that humanity has ever been given. Thus I’m always a bit surprised to find that many Christians view my nonviolent stance as mistaken (at best) or heretical (at worst).
[3] I’ve found that it is, along with the violent passages in Revelation, one of the biggest obstacles for most Christians when considering a commitment to nonviolence. For the violence in Revelation, see these posts: Jesus is Cruciform, Not Octagonal (A Response to Mark Driscoll) and Interpreting the Violent Imagery in Revelation.
[4] Jesus is surrounded by Jewish groups with a violent revolutionary bent and explicitly rebukes such desires. Even more telling is that Jesus’ own theological agenda seems to be one that would fit nicely with these traditions (see the revolutionary language of his mother in her famous song), yet he interprets the revolution as a spiritual one – a battle against Satan, not Rome. Again – see N.T. Wright’s Jesus and the Victory of God.
[5] Jesus is as clear as possible: see Matthew 5:38-48.
[6] (I know of few who would doubt the first and have yet to see good evidence against the second).

A Lamech Christology

~ Mike Skinner ~ 2 Comments

The Apostle Paul regularly utilized what is called “Adam Christology” – that is, a way of understanding Christ in light of Adam. Just as Adam brought death, so Christ brought life. Just as all those who are in Adam will die, so all those who are in Christ will live.

However, I don’t think Adam is the only foundational human being capable of being utilized in the christological enterprise. Another monumental figure among our “older siblings” is a man named Lamech. His story is told in Genesis 4 – he hails from the line of Cain (the first murderer), is the first polygamous man in Scripture, and intensifies the violence of Cain. His story ends with this poetic brag:

“Lamech said to his wives:
‘Adah and Zillah, hear my voice;
  you wives of Lamech, listen to what I say:
I have killed a man for wounding me,
  a young man for striking me.
If Cain’s revenge is sevenfold,
  then Lamech’s is seventy-sevenfold.'”

Lamech’s song is the song of human history. Our world is a world of glorified violence, a moral ghetto where revenge is trusted above all else.  If there is one non-negotiable creed in our blood-stained culture, it’s the myth of redemptive violence.

In a world like ours, Christ appears as a kind of “second-Lamech.” While our older brother Lamech forged the path of vengeance on which we slavishly walk, our even older brother, Christ, has charted a new path of Kingdom peace and forgiveness.

Interestingly, Jesus explicitly alludes to Lamech’s infamous speech after an inquiry into the number of times required to forgive one’s enemy: “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.” As Richard Beck says poignantly, the Song of Lamech is not the Song of the Lamb.  One might also read Jesus’ statement in Luke 6:27-29 as a direct retort to Lamech’s lyrical boast: “But I say to you who hear, ‘Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To the one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either.'”

Vengeance came through Lamech, forgiveness has come through Christ.
Lamech brought glorified violence, Christ has brought peace.

All in Lamech will die, but all in Christ shall live.

Intertextuality in Micah 7 (Part Three: Evaluation)

~ Mike Skinner ~ Leave a comment

In two previous posts I have examined and analyzed the evidence for an intertextual relationship between Micah 7:8-20 and The Song of the Sea in Exodus 15:1-18.

Intertextuality in Micah 7 (Part One: Evidence)
Intertextuality in Micah 7 (Part Two: Analysis)

I would like to now evaluate the results of Micah’s transformation of the Song of the Sea. In particular, I believe that Micah is utilizing intertextuality as a countercultural and prophetic act.[1] His refiguring of the imagery from the Song of the Sea would have been unexpected to his audience, challenging their traditions and hopes. The Israelites had been conditioned (by the Song of the Sea, no less!) to see their enemies as the foreign nations who oppressed them. Yet Micah’s revisionary tune would have subverted their nationalistic hopes, violent tendencies, and eschatological expectations for YHWH’s act of salvation.

Countercultural Attitudes & Actions

First, Micah’s audience would be challenged to see and respond to the world differently. The hatred they felt towards their socio-political enemies, which fueled many aspects of their political goals and eschatological hopes, would be exposed as shallow and futile. If Israel’s sins were the true enemy, God’s people would be called to replace their hatred with humility, recognizing their complicity in the evils of the world and their own state of exile. Likewise, Israel would be called to repent of any hopes or plans of violence against their enemies. Such actions would only be a distraction from the real problem and a waste of energy. Instead, the appropriate action for those who recognize their enemy as sin is that of repentance and transformation.

Countercultural Image of God

Second, Micah’s reconfiguration of the Song of the Sea presented a new and somewhat surprising image of God. While the Song of the Sea portrays a violent God committed to spilling blood for his people, Micah ends his book with a forgiving God who will use his rightful authority and power as the Warrior-King to forgive, instead of kill. This is a fitting end to both the textual unit of Micah 7:8-20 and the book as a whole. It would appear that YHWH’s war-like action towards his people’s sin is Micah’s ultimate prophetic answer to the problem of destruction which Israel faced in Micah 1:5 – “All this for the transgression of Jacob and for the sins of the house of Israel.” YHWH would act again as the Exodus-God, but this time there would be no mass killing of Israel’s enemies. Instead, even the foreign nations would have some share in the life to come (Micah 4:1-5; 7:12).

Canonical Coherence

Finally, Micah’s identification of sin as the ultimate enemy of God’s people has clear affinities with the larger context of the Christian canon. Micah is simply one of the earliest in a long line of prophets to call attention to this truth. Jesus does this in the Gospels by calling Israel to peaceful interactions with Rome and to repentance of her own sin. As N.T. Wright says, “Jesus called Israel to repent of her nationalistic ambition and to follow him in a new vision of God’s purpose for Israel. Resistance to Rome was to be replaced by love and prayer for the enemy. Israel’s plight was radically redefined: sin, not Rome, was the real enemy.”[2] St. Paul echoes this sentiment with his frequent personification of sin as a power that enslaves and an enemy that must be conquered. He states in Ephesians 6:12: “we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces in the heavenly places.” I believe that Micah would be tempted to give a hearty “Amen” to statements such as these.

The book of Micah thus ends with a prophetic invitation to see the world through the lens of a new Song of the Sea. It was still a song of victory, though its militaristic and nationalistic themes had been prophetically re-interpreted. Perhaps, if we have ears to hear and eyes to see, we will find ourselves listening to Micah’s new tune and responding with the dances of faithful, repentant, and peaceful lives.

[1] I draw the concept of “intertextuality as a countercultural practice” from Richard Hays’ work in his article “The Liberation of Luke-Acts: Intertextual Narration as Countercultural Practice” from Reading the Bible Intertextually (p. 101-118).
[2] Wright, “Jesus” in The New Dictionary of Theology, 348-351. See extended discussion in his Jesus and The Victory of God, 451-463.