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By philhigley, January 12, 2010 10:31 am

“O Death, where is your sting?”

1 Corinthians 15:15

It may seem a mystery to the world that people should be happy in death, which the world considers to be the most terrible of all things, but this is the case of saints. Their happiness is built on a rock that will stand the shock of death. When the storm and floods of death come with their greatest violence, this rock stands firm; neither death nor hell can overthrow it.

The notion of death implies destruction, or perishing, in it, but the godly are not destroyed by death. Death cannot destroy them. As Christ says, they will never perish: “Whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:15). A godly person, when they die, in no way perishes. There is no end put to his life as a Christian because the spiritual life remains unquenched by death. A wicked person, when they die, dies indeed, because all the life they have ends; they have no other life but temporal life, and no other life which they value and love. But a Christian’s life is hidden with Christ and safely laid up with Him in heaven.

Therefore death cannot reach the Christian’s life because it cannot reach heaven. Death can no more reach the believer’s life than Christ’s life. Christ says, for the comfort of His saints, “I am He who lives, and was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore. Amen. And I have the keys of Hades and of Death” (Revelation 1:18).

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By philhigley, January 10, 2010 12:49 pm

Someone recently asked me about a previous post that I did on John’s Logos concept. I’m re-posting that blog post today:-) Enjoy

By Phillip Higley

In his now classic survey text, Christianity & Western Thought, Colin Brown briefly challenges the interpretation by John Herman Randall, Jr., that the λογος (trans. logos) language in the prologue of John is an adoption of “Philo Judaeus’ earlier Platonization of the Hebraic tradition.” Brown’s argument consists of (1) not overlooking “John’s Jewishness and closeness to Jesus’ life and times,” and (2) that viewing λογος through a Philonic paradigm distorts “parallels between John and the Old Testament.” In an attempt to follow Brown’s tentative challenge with more depth, and to show this depth in a briefly stated blog entry, the point before us is to investigate the use of the Greek word λογος and its Hellenistic and Jewish connotations, which may or may not be present, in the Prologue of John 1. Immediate emphasis will be given to a careful contextual analysis of the λογος concept in its Johannine context. It will subsequently be argued that the evangelist’s choice of λογος , as a designation for the pre-incarnate Jesus Christ, is neither principally derived from Hellenistic philosophy (e.g., Stoicism) or Jewish philosophical theology (e.g., Philo), but rather from early Judeo-Christian belief informed by Old Testament scripture and by the person of Jesus himself in his revelation of himself to his own disciples. Thus, the evangelist’s perspective is rather unique in light of his Hellenistic context.

Contextual Considerations

The question of the evangelist’s audience is important for understanding his use of λογος, for the word has multi-dimensional qualities in Hellenistic thought. The question remains, however: What did original audiences envisage when they heard or read about the λογος, and what might have the evangelist meant by using the term? Did they hear the Philonic concept of λογος as an impersonal Reason whether human or divine? Did they hear the Stoic concept of λογος which posited the notion of god and the λογος as one in the same? Obviously there are multiple ways of answering these questions, and thus it is not surprising that scholars are in a state of perpetual disagreement on the subject. For example, many reputable minds have placed the gospel’s composition in the late second-century. If the gospel is seen as a late composition, then one might have warrant to presuppose that there is some type of proto-Gnostic induced theological perspective which is present in the prologue. Additionally, this view would probably have to reject the idea that the author was an actual disciple or associated with the twelve.

Another way to look at the problem, however, is proposed by Luke Timothy Johnson. He concludes that late second-century dating of the gospel is based on an assumption that the evangelist’s symbolism (in this case, λογος) is dependent on Hellenistic philosophy. Johnson’s criticism, for example, may be directed toward a smug scholar like Rudolph Bultmann, who held to this type of perspective. In fact, Bultmann interestingly posited that the λογος “hymn” (C. K. Barrett challenges the hymn hypothesis) in the prologue was a synthesized Gnostic composition from Baptist circles. Thus, interpretation of the prologue is in this sense dependant on Hellenistic thought.

Nevertheless, contemporary scholarship is drifting away from understanding the evangelist’s use of λογος primarily through late second-century Hellenism. As an example of such scholarship, Richard N. Longenecker has said, regarding the concept of λογος in ancient Hellenistic thought and literature, that many scholars “have begun to be convinced that such parallels have been considerably overdrawn and that the connections between the New Testament and these bodies of literature are slight.” In agreement, Andrew T. Lincoln notes that “the origins of the prologue’s use of ‘the Word’ are in all probability to be found within earlier Jewish thought about both Wisdom and the Word of God.” (See Lincoln’s The Gospel According to Saint John, p. 95) In any case, even if the fourth gospel underwent multiple redactions, the argument remains that much of what the evangelist communicates in his prologue, and even throughout the text’s entirety, is rooted in a first century Jewish-Christian ethos.

That being said, this certainly does not mean that the author’s use of λογος is somehow void of any Hellenistic connotations at all, for it is indubitable that both he and his late first-century audience were aware of the term. Brown admits, for instance, that “it is possible that John was using language which had meaning to readers who were attuned to Stoicism and Philo.” The principle difference, however, is that the evangelist’s concept of λογος should not first be interpreted through Stoicism or Philo, and then, secondly, Christologically assessed. (This seems to be the error of scholars like Bultmann, Reitzenstein and Bousset, all of whom attributed the Johannine idea’s origin to ancient mythological speculation.) Doing so seems to make a premature hermeneutical leap which the evangelist may not have intended for his audience. This is probably the reason that someone like F. F. Bruce could state with confidence that “it is not in Greek philosophical usage, however, that the background of John’s thought and language should be sought….The true background to John’s thought and language is found not in Greek philosophy but in Hebrew revelation.” I would add to Bruce’s statement with a Barthian twist in that it is not just Hebrew revelation per se, but the revelation of the Triune God who has now revealed himself, who continues to reveal himself, and will eternally reveal himself through the second person of the Trintiy, Jesus Christ-the λογος. Thus, in light of this Johannine λογος concept, a carefully contextual analysis of λογος is still in order.

Conceptual and Literary Context of John’s λογος

With respect to the context of λογος in John’s Gospel, one must remember that “verbal similarities do not necessarily imply conceptual similarities,” as Luke Timothy Johnson reminds us. (It should also be noted that scholars like Carson have postulated that John may be referring to Mark’s opening as well. In this sense, John may be saying something to the effect, “Mark has told you about the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry; I want to show you that the starting point of the gospel can be traced farther back than that, before the beginning of the entire universe.”) Further, “the use of similar words in seemingly similar ways,” D. H. Johnson observes, “can deceive us into thinking that two authors are discussing the same concept. Only when one document is understood in its own right can it be compared to another which must also be understood in its own right.” This proverbial insight especially applies to the the term λογος in the prologue.

As alluded to above, the charge against particular interpreters of the Johannine concept of λογος is that they view dominant or more ancient concepts of the term as a lens through which one should view John’s own use of the term. Although this method can be insightful for additional theological and philosophical research, starting with it can be problematic for understanding the theological significance of John’s message. Put in another way, pushing the concept of λογος through a plethora of Hellenistic categories, in some type of anomalous Kantian fashion, without actually understanding John’s Christology is premature at best, and confusing at worst. Basically it is just a bad hermeneutic. I could go on about the hermeneutical problem, but that is a different post and argument which deserves more in depth treatment.

The Text in Context

The first words of the evangelist’s gospel are perhaps the most profound. The phrase, εν αρχη ην ο λογος (trans. In the beginning was the word) obviously functions as a harkening to the beginning of the Hebrew Bible. Schnackenburg asserts that the production of the “Logos-hymn” in this instance is clearly from “Christian ‘Hellenists’, as is shown by the use of the title ‘λογος’ without any qualification.” (This, of course, does not imply that Schnackenburg does not speak to the correlation to Gen 1, but only that his interpretation leans on the Hellenistic understanding of λογος instead of the Jewish ideal of the creation account.) One wonders, however, if Schnackenburg has devoted more attention to the Hellenistic context of λογος (in this instance) instead of the clear reference to the opening lines of Genesis. After all, it is by no accident that the evangelist begins with the same two words from the LXX: εν αρχη. Further, the Hebrew conception of OT books was always based on the first words of the book; “therefore, the expression would be widely known,” so says Leon Morris. But here in the John 1:1 & v. 14 the emphasis is not just on creation, but according to George Beasley-Murray, it is “to what existed when creation came into being, namely the Word….” Thus, there is an immediate qualification of the term, that is, the allusion and clear echo of Genesis 1 and the concept of God’s speaking. In the Genesis creation account, it should also be emphasized that, as Andrew Lincoln reminds us, “…each stage of creation is depicted as a result of God’s word.” This is particularly important for the contextual understanding of the author’s subsequent elucidation of the λογος, which is part and parcel of a Christological exegesis of Genesis 1.

Another often emphasized feature about the evangelist’s use of λογος as a designation for Jesus, is that the term is absent from the rest of the gospel. Again, some (e.g., Bultmann) have taken this fact as an evidence that the prologue material is a later insertion or “unoriginal” to the rest of the gospel. However, jumping to this conclusion without considering other evidences seems unsound and unwarranted. D. A. Carson mentions, for example, that the prologue, which obviously includes the contextual unfolding of Jesus as the λογος, is written in such a way that the evangelist evidently expected his readers “…to detect a certain progression in his line of thought.” (cf. Carson, The Gospel According to John) What is particularly interesting as well as baffling, then, is that certain scholars make so much out of the subsequent absence of the term. To resolve the apparent “mystery,” the reader must merely read the rest of the gospel for the evangelist’s unfolding of the person of Jesus! Is this not expected of the audience? Furthermore, Johnson rightly says that “the prologue in this case gives explicit expression to the constant assumption behind the deeds and words of Jesus; he acts and speaks as the incarnate expression of God’s speech. As word gives body to thought, so does Jesus give visible expression in the world to the invisible power and presence of God.” (cf. Johnson, The Writings of the New Testament, p. 535) Johnson is right, but it may also be briefly noted that this same type of literary and theological feature occurs in other gospels as well. Take Matthew’s use of Immanuel, for example (1:23). In a declaration about the fulfillment of a prophecy by Isaiah, Matthew boldly declares that the messiah’s name will be called Immanuel-God with us. However, the Immanuel title is never again used in the gospel. Instead, the person of Jesus is elucidated as God incarnate, who is actually forever with his people (28:20). So then, just as Matthew does not require the actual word “Immanuel” in his later context, so too the author of John also does not require the word λογος. The reason is that Jesus gives substantive definition and embodiment to the concept. This is not that difficult of a point to recognize, and I do not mean to be arrogant in my bringing it up, but I certainly expected more from Bultmann’s treatment of the topic, to be sure.

It is not enough, however, to say that the λογος was just in the beginning, but the evangelist makes it clear that the λογος was with God and that the λογος was God. This declaration seems mysterious if left to itself-and of course it is mysterious even in the context of the whole book. But we are not left with a numinous view of the λογος. On this point we must dispense with the impersonality of the term. Instead, we must profess and recognize that the term corresponds to a person, and not a “concept” per se. Furthermore, consider Longenecker’s pithy summary of the prologue’s Christological structure and content:

John 1.1-5 refers to Jesus in terms of the λογος who is pre-existent with God, essentially divine, the Creator of all that exists, and the source of life and light. John 1:14-18 continues this imagery, speaking of him as the incarnate glory of God the Father who is the promised bringer of grace and the revealer of God’s person. (Longenecker, “The Christology of Early Jewish Christianity,” p. 144.)

In addition to Longenecker’s summary, we may note that the structure and advancement of the λογος concept is Christologically distinct by the evangelist’s understanding of OT motifs as well as his own understanding of the person of Jesus. To demonstrate this, an excurses into these two topics in relation to the evangelist’s λογος is in order.

λογος and debar (Hebrew word for, well, “word”)

Admittedly, the word of God is a complex theological concept in the OT scriptures and their appropriation into second temple Judaism. Nevertheless, we can still posit that the concept of λογος in John’s gospel has parallels in OT scripture with respect to the idea of “the word of God.” On this point, Carson for example notes that in the OT, “‘the word’ of God is connected with God’s powerful activity in creation (cf. Gn. 1:3ff.; Ps. 33:6), revelation (Je. 1:4; Is. 9:8; Ezk. 33:7; Am. 3:1, 8 ) and deliverance (Ps. 107:20; Is. 55:1).” In addition to Carson’s comment, Longenecker says that “probably more to the point in positing a terminological background for the Johannine usage are the statements regarding the Word, Wisdom, and Torah in early Jewish writings, both orthodox and sectarian.” Thus, the word of God in the Hebraic sense, or more specifically, the word of Yahweh, is an important backdrop from which to view the λογος of John’s prologue. We will here look at some of the most striking elements (there are many more) that relate to the word of God motif in OT scripture and Hebrew wisdom literature, as Longenecker has helpfully condensed them:

Judaism understood God’s Word (debar) to have almost autonomous powers and substance once it was spoken; to be, in fact, ‘a concrete reality, a veritable cause’. Thus Sir. 42:15 says that ‘by the word of the Lord his works’, Wisd. Sol. 9:1-3 speaks of God as the One ‘who have made all things by your word, and by your wisdom have formed humankind’; expressions built upon the reference to the creative word of God in Ps. 33:6 and the characterization of the near-personified word in Isa. 55:10f. More graphic still, Wisd. Sol. 18:15 reads: ‘your all-powerful word leaped from heaven, from the royal throne, a stern warrior.’ (cf. Longenecker, “The Christology of Early Jewish Christianity,” p. 145)

As can be seen by these texts, the λογος concept in John, as it relates to the Hebraic concept of the word of God, is not foreign to Hebrew thinking (let it be known that I’m not saying the Hebrew perspective of λογος is the same as John’s, but I’m merely pointing out that it is not foreign). Thus, we should not be surprised, says Longenecker, that the “…fact that parallels between John’s Logos christology and Jewish Wisdom and Torah motifs are striking.” What is remarkable, however, is John’s attribution of the term to the person of Jesus Christ. Thus, we briefly turn to the evangelist’s perspective of Jesus himself. In reality, however, keep in mind the point of God’s revealing himself through the person of Jesus and in the power of the Holy Spirit. After all, it is not as though John just by happenchance figured out that the λογος was Jesus and then wrote about it/him, but rather it was revealed to him by the Spirit and also the incarnate Jesus himself.

The Message and Person of Jesus

Regarding the λογος concept in John’s prologue, Graham Stanton states that the evangelist “may well have been influenced not only by Greek thought and by passages in Old Testament and Jewish writings, but also by early Christian usage of ‘the word’”. (Stanton,  The Gospels and Jesus, p. 109) This observation of the Christian usage may also be extended to John’s experience and apprehension of the person of Jesus (let us dispense with our modern hubris for a moment and assume that the evangelist is actually the “beloved” disciple; 13:23; 18:15-16; 19:26, 35; 20:2-10; 21:7, 20-23). Stanton follows up with inter-Johannine gospel occurrences of paradox in light of assessing λογος-Jesus-theologically:

…the evangelist [i.e., John] emphasizes that the Word was not independent of God, for he was ‘with God’, or, we might translate, ‘in God’s presence’. The Word is dependent on God, and is not simply to be equated with God; this important point is brought out in the REB translation: ‘what God was, the Word was’ (1:2). In the gospel itself Jesus claims, ‘The Father and I are one’ (10:30), but he also insists, paradoxically, that his relationship with the Father is one of dependence. He refers to himself repeatedly as the one sent by the Father, and, as if to rebut any suggestion that he is a ‘second God’, he states, ‘the Father is greater than I’ (14:28). (Stanton, p. 109)

Stanton rightly makes reference to the paradoxical reality of Jesus’ divinity with pre-trinitarian understandings. We must, however, remember that paradox does not imply contradiction in this respect. Although John presents Jesus as divine in multiple places throughout his gospel, he nonetheless places theological tension between the reality of Jesus-the λογος, being God and yet being Son to the Father from the very first verse. We may look to Karl Barth for a masterful expression of this dynamic: “Jesus Christ, the Word of God, meets us as no other than God, but in another way, in a different way of being compared with God in so far as God speaks the Word, in so far as the Word goes forth from Him. The same revelation thus compels us to separate God and His Word and also to unite them.” (CD I/1/p. 435)

Alongside Stanton’s comment above, Carson recommends that “the wealth of possible backgrounds to the term logos in John’s Prologue suggests that the determining factor is not this or that background but the church’s experience of Jesus Christ.” And it is exactly this experience of Jesus Christ that John is alluding to. Thus, interpreters of the λογος would do well to seriously “…listen to the Evangelist himself,” for if he was actually with Jesus himself, then “we know that his testimony is true” (21:24). Johnson’s exposition of this very point is refreshing:

The Fourth Gospel ultimately derives from an eyewitness designated as ‘the disciple whom Jesus love’…but it also shows how that witness passed through a period of reflection in light of the church’s postresurrection experience. No other Gospel, in fact, is so transparent concerning the ways in which the story of Jesus is read in light of the community’s experience of his resurrection, the gift of the Holy Spirit, and the words of Scripture. (Johnson, The Living Jesus, p. 177)

Thus, these observations are but a few of the many reasons that the Johannine concept of λογος is forever and necessarily tied to the person of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. How this is theologically understood and communicated throughout the history of the church, however, is a question which remains to be understood.

Conclusion

Theological conversation about John’s concept and use of λογος will continue into the future as it has in the past. This short study has hopefully added to this immense and ongoing conversation. Additionally, debate about the concept and how we are to understand the person of Jesus Christ gives substantive theological purpose to this conversation as well. Nevertheless, we have seen, albeit briefly, that there is tenable evidence to read, understand, and interpret John’s λογος concept as informed by OT scripture and wisdom literature, and by the person of Jesus Christ himself as he is witnessed to in the canon of scripture, and in the proclamation of the church through the power of the Holy Spirit. In this venture of reading about John’s λογος and his Christological elucidation of the term, the interpreter is by no means cautioned against being aware of its Hellenistic connotations or considering them. Rather, as indicated above, the interpreter is cautioned against superimposing Hellenistic philosophies of the λογος onto the person of Jesus. In this sense, we must let the gospel of John be the gospel of John; we must let the evangelist speak and proclaim his message about Jesus Christ, the λογος of God.

____________________________________

Below are references from works I’ve used for my various John studies and included in quotes for this specific study. Additionally, if you are interested in further John studies or systematic theology in the area of Christology, then take a look through the books below. I have provided links to each book on either Amazon or CBD.

Barth, Karl. Church Dogmatics. Vol. I, Pt. 1. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1975.

Beasley-Murray, George R. John.Word Biblical Commentary, Vol. 36. 2^nd ed. Nashville: Thomas Nelson 1999.

Blomberg, Craig L. Jesus and the Gospels: An Introduction and Survey. Nashville: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 1997.

Brown, Colin. Christianity & Western Thought: From the Ancient World to the Age of the Enlightenment, Vol. 1. Downers Grove: IVP: 1990.

Bruce, F. F. The Gospel of John: Introduction, Exposition and Notes. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983.

Carson, D. A. The Gospel According to John. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991.

Guthrie, Donald. New Testament Theology. Leicester: IVP, 1981.

Johnson, D. H. “Logos.” In Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels. Edited by Joel B. Green and Scot McKnight. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1992.

Johnson, Luke Timothy. The Writings of the New Testament: An Interpretation, Rev. ed. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999.

______. Living Jesus: Learning the Heart of the Gospel. San Francisco: Harper Collins, 2000.

Longenecker, Richard N. “The Christology of Early Jewish Christianity.” Studies in Biblical Theology. Second Series #17. Naperville: SCM Press, 1970.

Kysar, Robert. “Christology and Controversy.” Currents in Theology and Mission 5.6 (Dec 1978): 348-364. [Go to your library to get this Journal]

Lincoln, Andrew T. The Gospel According to Saint John. Black’s New Testament Commentaries. London: Continuum, 2005.

Morris, Leon. The Gospel According to John, Rev. ed. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995.

Randall Jr., John Herman. Hellenistic Ways of Deliverance and the Making of the Christian Synthesis. New York: Columbia University Press, 1970.

Schnackenburg, Rudolph. The Gospel According to St. John, Vol. 1. Translated by Kevin Smyth. New York: Herder and Herder, 1968.

______. Jesus in the Gospels: A Biblical Christology. Translated by O. C. Dean, Jr. Louisville: WJKP, 2005.

Stanton, Graham. The Gospels and Jesus, 2^nd ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.

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By philhigley, January 9, 2010 12:33 am

I recently finished making a quick intro guide to the Gospel of Mark for my church. This weekend we’re starting a new series on one of the shortest, strangest, and most difficult gospel accounts to grasp. I thought the intro would be good to post on my blog because it’s short and sweet—I hope.

About the Gospel of Mark:

The Gospel of Mark is anonymous—like the other Gospels—but unlike the other Gospels it does not have any allusions or clues as to its authorship (e.g., Lk 1:1-4; Jn 21:24). However, it is possible that the author of the Gospel assumed the readers’ knowledge of authorship (e.g., Lk 1:1-4; Acts 1:1). More likely, the author’s understanding that his Gospel was hardly a creative literary product but rather was an expression of the gospel from God promised by Isaiah (52:7; 61:1) and expressed in the teaching and stories of Jesus as preached in the early church (see Mk 1:1; 1:14).

Traditionally, within the earliest years of the church, the Gospel became known as the “Gospel according to Mark.” The earliest known reference to the Gospel being attributed to Mark is by Papias, Bishop of Hierapolis in what is today known as southwest Turkey. Bishop Papias provides the earliest documentable testimony to Mark as author of the Gospel in his five-volume work Interpretation of the Lord’s Sayings (A.D. 120). Papias claimed to have learned that Mark authored the Gospel by a significant leader in the church whom he references as the Elder (possibly a disciple to one of the twelve Apostles or one of the twelve): Papias states: “And this is what the Elder said, ‘Mark, who became Peter’s interpreter, accurately wrote, though not in order, as many of the things said and done by the Lord as he had noted.” If Papias is correct, then it appears that Mark was transcribing the very words of Peter the Apostle and these writings subsequently became known as the Gospel according to Mark. It is also significant that one of the most significant church fathers, Irenaeus, mentions that Papias was a hearer of the Apostle John himself, and a companion of Polycarp, who was also a disciple of the Apostle John. Either way, Papias’ witness to Mark as being the author of the Gospel has a great deal of extra biblical historical evidence to support Markan authorship.

But if Mark was a disciple of Peter, Apostle to the Lord Jesus Christ, then who exactly was Mark? All evidence from the early church and the Bible itself point to “John Mark,” the disciple of Peter mentioned many times in the New Testament (see 1 Pet 5:13; Acts 12:12, 25; 13:13; 15:37-39 and in the Pauline writings: Philem 24; Col 4:10; 2 Tim 4:11). Therefore, in light of the biblical and early church evidence, Mark was the companion of both peter and Paul, a member of the primitive community in Jerusalem that met in the upper room of his mother’s home (Acts 12:12) where Jesus might have celebrated the Last Supper (see Mk 14:14-15; Acts 1:13-14).

Gospel of Mark Background and Miscellaneous Facts

Whereas Matthew was written to a Jewish audience, Mark is likely targeted to Roman audiences within Italy. Therefore Mark was written for the most part toward a gentile socio-cultural context. Evidences of this are (1) that Mark often translates Aramaic terms for his readers and in other places he uses Latin expressions, which would be more suited to a Roman audience; (2) he explains Jewish customs; (3) he omits Jewish elements, such as genealogies found in Matthew and Luke; and lastly (4) that Mark makes the fewest references to the OT out of all the gospels.

What was life like in Rome when Mark wrote his gospel account? The state of affairs in Rome was bleak to say the least. For example, in A.D. 64, very close to when Mark wrote his account, a devastating fire broke out in Rome. More than half the city was destroyed; and strong rumors persisted that the emperor Nero set them himself. Unfortunately for Christians in the city and region, the emperor Nero himself devised a plan to blame the Christians for the travesty. The Roman historian Tacitus recounts the situation that followed (keep in mind Tacitus is no Christian or Christian sympathizer):

But neither human help, nor imperial munificence, nor all the modes of placating Heaven, could stifle scandal or dispel the belief that the fire had taken place by order of the Emperor. Therefore, to scotch the rumor, Nero substituted as culprits, and punished with the utmost refinements of cruelty, a class of men and women, loathed for their vices, whom the crowd styled Christians. Christus, the founder of the name, had undergone the death penalty in the reign of Tiberius, by sentence of the procurator Pontius Pilatus, and the pernicious superstition was checked for a moment, only to break out once more, not merely in Judea, the home of the disease, but in the capital itself, where all things horrible or shameful in the world collect and find a vogue. First, then, the confessed members of the Christian sect were arrested; next, on their confessions of being Christ followers, vast numbers were convicted, not so much on the count of being arsonists but for the hatred of the human race. And ridicule accompanied their end: they were covered with wild beasts’ skins and torn to death by dogs; or they were fastened on crosses, and when daylight failed were burned to serve as lamps by night. Nero had offered his gardens for the spectacle, and gave an exhibition in his circus, mixing with the crowd in the habit of a charioteer. Hence, in spite of a guilt which had earned the most exemplary and brutal punishment conceivable, there rose a sentiment of pity, due to the impression that they were being sacrificed not for the welfare of Rome but to the ferocity of a single man. (Annals 15.44)

So if the Gospel of Mark was written sometime during this period of persecution, between A.D. 65-68, this passage from Tacitus sheds light on Mark’s contextual setting. The Roman church was both literally and figuratively experiencing the fires of persecution. Mark’s purpose in writing was “not historical or biographical,” per se, but intensely practical. He was writing a book for the guidance and support of his fellow Christians in a situation of intense crisis.

Jesus: “King of the Broken”

The way Mark prepares his readers for suffering is by placing before them the passion experience of Jesus. Jesus’ way was a via dolorosa (Latin for “way of suffering”). The way of discipleship for Christians is the same way—the cross. And about one-third of Mark’s Gospel is devoted to the death of Jesus. Thus, the Gospel of Mark points to Jesus as the suffering Servant of the Lord (Mk 10:45) and this suffering servant of the Lord is also the King of those who are broken and in need of wholeness. All this said, Mark demonstrates Jesus’ actions and deeds more so than his teaching, particularly emphasizing the service and sacrifice of Jesus for his people; and it is not that Mark isn’t concerned with the teaching of Jesus, but he is painting a picture in the gospel account of Jesus’ actions being representative more so than his teaching. The motto actions speak louder than words is definitely true of Mark’s gospel. In light of Jesus’ actions, Mark focuses on the humanity of Jesus more clearly than any of the other evangelists, emphasizing Jesus’ human emotions (1:41; 3:5; 6:34; 8:12; 9:36), his human limitations (4:38; 11:12; 13:32), and other small details that highlight the human side of the Son of God (e.g., 7:33, 34; 8:12; 9:36; 10:13-16). The savior of the world and messiah, the King, is also the one who suffered with his broken people.

Like with the other gospels, Mark challenges his readers with the message and hope of Jesus. But on Mark’s understanding the implication for the Roman church is clear. Faithfulness and obedience as a follower of Jesus Christ will inevitably lead to suffering and perhaps even death.

Comments (2)

By philhigley, January 2, 2010 12:59 pm

Below is an interesting passage from a book I was reading this morning. The author, Calvin Miller, is professor of divinity at Samford University. In the passage I’m quoting from him, he pretty much nails the current cultural milieu of secular naïveté and hubris that is present in America. He also takes a jab at Christians. What is this naïveté you ask? In Miller’s view, it is the fact that transformation has become a bad word, or at least a bad concept. For example, there are these new bumper stickers out now that say, “Born okay the first time.” Apparently they are a rebuttal to the concept of being “born again,” I suppose. Either way, the posterior (interpret that anyway you want) of one’s car is clearly an inglorious place to make such an unqualified and strange proclamation; though perhaps that is the best place for simpleton and imbecilic remarks. I could go on about this point but here’s Miller’s perspective on the matter of transformation and secular naïveté (the second paragraph is my favorite):

…transformation has become an ugly cultural concept. The idea that sects or denominations have the right to change others drives secularists to the wall. Secular thinkers feel that people should be free to be what they are or want to be without anyone trying to “convert” or “transform” them. This postmodern, post-denominational world we have inherited (perhaps even caused) glories in discussion. Talk is the mode of the day, not argument. Talk—as the cliché runs—is cheap. It’s not only cheap, it’s a group sport, warm and harmless and so conversational that everybody can participate. But persuasion and conversion, which have always lived at the heart of the Christian mission, are the preacher’s mission. Yet persuasion is suddenly taboo. “Just As I Am, Leave ME Alone” is not just the hymn of the penitent, it has become the creed of individual liberty espoused by the media and championed by the libertine spirit of the age.

Still, the current crop of secularists are not very informed. Naïveté is a wonderful quality: it allows even the least informed to enter every conversation with instant esteem. It fashions an equality of all views, without the inconvenience of actually having to study any view.  Christians, like the secularists they distrust, also talk a lot. Increasingly they too are unstudied and yet the force of their convictions flies at the world full tilt. But naïveté is a worm cocoon that allows the naïve to be fully authoritative and respected without facing anything dangerous or requiring.

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By philhigley, December 20, 2009 1:57 am

I haven’t posted much in the last couple of weeks because (1) December is a very busy month for everybody, (2) I’ve been working a lot, (3) I’ve been a bit lazy—no excuses, and (4) I’ve been preparing and recently delivered a sermon at my church on the voice of John the Baptist for the third week of Advent. Studying John’s voice within an Advent context was challenging, and what was even more challenging was trying to apply John’s voice to our culture two thousand years after the fact, and then trying to speak into the lives of a couple hundred people who have completely different backgrounds and are in different age groups. Anyhow, I’m no expert preacher and don’t claim to be one. In fact, preaching is extremely difficult if you really pour your heart and soul into proclaiming God’s Word. It shouldn’t be easy for anyone, and neither should the task be taken lightly. It’s a very weighty and substantive task to preach Jesus and the gospel. Why do I want to preach/study/proclaim/witness Jesus to others? Answer: Jesus has completely changed my life!

Here’s a link to the sermon/message of John’s Advent voice.

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By philhigley, December 10, 2009 4:13 pm

The following story is shocking and I was mortified by reading it. It sounds absolutely totalitarian and fascistic.

The real inconvenient truth

The whole world needs to adopt China’s one-child policy

Diane Francis,  Financial Post

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By philhigley, December 3, 2009 10:46 am

Here’s a blog post from Fuller Theological Seminary’s Rich Mouw

A Vatican Investigation

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By philhigley, November 28, 2009 6:21 pm

Here’s the skinny on this blog post: I just wrote a four page story about being at thanksgiving, getting into a political conversation with two George W. Bush worshipers, challenging them on their current doomsday prognostications concerning Obama, and then being conveniently labeled (by them) as a wacky liberal. Ok, basically, my entire post just got deleted so I’m a little annoyed. Rather than write the whole thing again, I’m going to give an ultra brief summary of the situation. Here it is in a paraphrased dialogue format:

Them: Barack Obama is going to bankrupt this country.

Me: Ya, just like George W. Bush was doing for 8 long years.

Them: Well, he had 2 wars to fight…

Me: Not really, he didn’t have to fight those wars, but the military men and women in uniform had to. In fact, he didn’t have to fight in Iraq at all (are we finished justifying the war in Iraq yet?). Additionally, he didn’t have to stay in Iraq and Afghanistan for more than a couple of years based on his own strategy of uprooting the governments.

Them: What are you saying?

Me: I’m saying that Bush screwed our economy up too, so don’t just try to blame it on Obama and his historically high spending within the first year of his presidency. (By the way, Obama has spent more in the first year than any president has in history—but that’s beside the point.) Instead, this whole economic situation, in light of the executive branch of government, is just as dependent on Bush as it is Obama. That’s what I’m saying…

Them: (Literally said) “You’re liberal aren’t you” (sniff sniff)

Me: “Thinking to myself” ??? What on earth does that have to do with what I’ve just said?

______________________________

Tentative conclusion: For some people, Bush walks on water and can do no wrong. If you question him or the conservative platform, then you’re immediately called a liberal. This happens on the other side of the isle of course, so I think it’s really just a case of treating politics as though they are God, which is actually just idolatry.  In reality, I don’t like playing on any of the conservative or liberal teams because they are too existentially bound, i.e., tied to the here and now of our own political situations. Those teams suck, and existentialism sucks too, hehe… Instead of politics, I want to play on the Jesus team. What this means is that (1) I want to see myself first as a follower of Jesus, and (2) let that define how I view politics. I suspect that will limit my personal attacks on other people for having different political views on things. Keep in mind that Jesus too was viewed as a political threat in the first century. Why? Because he was talking about the kingdom of God… A kingdom which is contrary to the crappy political corrosiveness of this world, which is essentially corrupt, poisonous, and deceitful into perpetuity. In sum, then: without Jesus, all things will rot away because they are like sand, which when the storm comes, washes away and is scattered. We are told to build our houses on the Rock (Jesus), for when the storms come, the rock is a solid foundation.

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By philhigley, November 24, 2009 11:04 am

Below is a news story that I’ve been following for the past couple of days. Basically, a Catholic bishop wants to limit communion—and rightfully so I believe—to Senator Patrick Kennedy, who has the audacity to call himself a Catholic while completely disregarding the church’s dogmatic teachings on the issue of abortion. By the way, one wonders what it takes to be called a Catholic in the first place, but I suppose that that’s a different post altogether. Anyhow, some people think that the Bishop is politicizing the issue by restricting communion to the senator. Maybe so, but it doesn’t really takeaway from the church’s serious teaching and stance on the issue, and the fact that the senator is in rebellion about a very serious position that literally (very literally) impacts the lives of millions of children.

On top of that, what I found really interesting is that (sorry for the critical tone) evangelical know-it-all, Brian McLaren, (quoted near the middle of the article) criticizes the Catholic church’s teachings on abortion too—and homosexuality (what else?). McLaren is basically a neo-liberal-evangelical who wants everybody to hold hands, bake cupcakes together, all while singing Kumbaya and watching Oprah re-runs. His theological ambivalence and social cowardice is sickening from my perspective. That said, he has a little blurb at the end of the article that’s just typical. My response is what do we do when we have mutually exclusive worldviews, then, Mr. McLaren? It’s easy to say be civil with your discourse, but what do we do when we actually disagree on a serious issue? Should we say nothing like, “that’s above my pay grade?” Ya, nothing I guess. Disagreeing is alright to do when we’re being honest and not trying to make innocuous statements all the time. What do you say to that? By the way, what do you really believe about anything? Can you say you have a position at all? Say something, not nothing, because it just adds to the confusion!

The way I see it, the Catholic church is pro-life no matter what. What this means is no death penalty, no abortion, period. By the way, isn’t it ironic, speaking of liberal and conservative views, that liberals often want to absolutely eradicate the death penalty because it’s horrible and cruel while trying to make it as easy as possible—to the point that tax payers should fund—abortions. It’s really weird because it’s a 100% no on the death penalty and a 100% yes on abortion. (By the way, yes, I’m using generalities to make my point. I’m obviously aware that there’s a middle ground too. However, these are the general platforms for both camps. I’m not in any camp, though I walk through different ones on occasion.) Additionally, there’s this strange view that a woman should, as it were, be able to go to a drive through abortion clinic to make the process as easy as possible, and be handed a latte on the way out. “No big deal,” the clinician says, “I do a hundred of these a day; perfectly normal.” On the other hand, and this is what really gets me, many conservatives want to immediately kill everybody on death row while saying 100% no to abortions in all circumstances, even assuming the health of the mother is at stake. Some people say paradox. Maybe, but maybe there’s selfish hypocrisy included as well. Probably both in all reality…

Back to my point: the Catholic church doesn’t accept the flippant or arbitrary killing of babies, period. Maybe the Catholics should be praised for actually holding a belief that is contrary to culture, and is 100% on the side of life. That’s not an easy position to hold, teach, or proclaim to an American culture that is narcissistically inclined toward rampant consumerism, instant gratification without any sacrifice or hard work, fear, and blatant egocentricity. All of these attributes are silent justifications, albeit bad ones, for abortion.

Washington (CNN) — A dispute over abortion between the only remaining Kennedy in Congress and his Roman Catholic bishop has highlighted the political volatility of the issue and the challenge it presents to the nation’s Catholics.

“How can you claim to be a Catholic and also support abortion?” Bishop Thomas Tobin of Providence, Rhode Island, asked Monday, discussing his request that Rep. Patrick Kennedy, a Rhode Island Democrat, stop receiving Holy Communion because of his pro-choice politics.

Kennedy went public Sunday about Tobin’s request, originally made in a private letter to Kennedy in 2007. Tobin responded with a statement Sunday followed by his television appearance Monday, in which he acknowledged holding Kennedy to a higher standard than an ordinary parishioner because of the congressman’s position as a legislator who can shape abortion laws and policy.

The issue is considered much broader than a public rift between the two men. A sweeping health care bill in Congress could get derailed by conflicts over abortion language, with the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops last week criticizing a Senate version of the measure for lacking the tougher language adopted earlier by the House.

Kennedy, a member of the most influential Catholic family in U.S. history, is the son of the late Sen. Edward Kennedy and nephew of the late John F. Kennedy, the nation’s first Catholic president. When running for president in 1960, John Kennedy famously said he was “not the Catholic candidate for president,” but “the Democratic Party’s candidate for president who also happens to be be a Catholic.”

Edward Kennedy was known for his liberal policies, including support for a woman’s right to choose an abortion. When he died earlier this year, a Roman Catholic funeral Mass was held in Boston’s Our Lady of Perpetual Help Basilica.

Patrick Kennedy holds similar views to his late father, and the dispute with Tobin festered anew when Kennedy publicly criticized the Catholic Church for opposing health care reform that lacked stringent anti-abortion language.

Requests to Kennedy’s offices in Washington and Rhode Island for comment Monday went unanswered. Tobin, appearing on CNN, called Kennedy’s support of abortion “a scandal.”

Asked why he was singling out Kennedy, Tobin said the congressman started the dispute by attacking the church’s opposition to a health care bill that lacks tough abortion restrictions. He acknowledged “a difference between someone who is the average Catholic in the pew … and someone like the congressman who is in a high-profile position and is in a position to affect legislation on allowing access to abortion.”

Other Catholics questioned Tobin’s stance.

“The simple fact is that most bishops don’t want to deny communion to politicians, and we know for a fact that Pope John Paul II gave communion to pro-choice Italian politicians,” said the Rev. Thomas Reese, a senior fellow at the Woodstock Theological Center at Georgetown University. “So the question is, is Bishop Tobin more Catholic than the pope on this?”

Politicians have previously run afoul of Catholic bishops on the abortion issue. Kansas City Archbishop Joseph Naumann asked Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius to stop receiving communion when she was a pro-choice governor of Kansas, and former St. Louis Archbishop Raymond Burke said in 2004 he would deny communion to Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry for being pro-choice.

Brian McLaren, a longtime Christian pastor who has written a book coming out next year called “A New Kind of Christianity,” said politicizing religious views limits the perception and, eventually, the impact of a church’s teachings.

“Both Catholics and Protestants have allowed themselves to be pushed into this kind of binary, either-or thinking” on abortion and homosexuality, McLaren said. “It’s disturbing for me as a non-Catholic to see the Catholic Church possibly risking its moral authority on a number of other issues by only focusing on abortion.”

The Roman Catholic church strongly opposes abortion, which has been legal across the United States since 1973. The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops lobbied for tight restrictions on federal funding of abortion in the health care bill the House passed earlier this month.

In an October interview, Kennedy criticized the bishops for threatening to oppose the health care bill if it lacked the tough restrictions. In the House debate on the measure, Kennedy opposed a provision with the church-backed restrictions on federal money for abortions, but voted in favor of final passage of the bill that included that language.

He repeated that criticism and revealed Tobin’s earlier admonition in an interview published Sunday, the 46th anniversary of the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Tobin responded by calling Kennedy’s position “unacceptable to the church and scandalous to many of our members.”

Most bishops and priests oppose using communion as a “political weapon,” and Kennedy’s disclosure of Tobin’s admonition may be an attempt to push back against the bishops’ support for the abortion restrictions in the House bill, CNN senior Vatican analyst John Allen said.

“The Catholic bishops have been fairly successful, at least to date, at putting abortion at the center of the debate over health care reform, and that obviously has generated some resentment from people who don’t share their views,” Allen said. Kennedy’s decision to come forward “in effect puts the Catholic bishops in a negative light, because it ends up making them look intolerant.”

To McLaren, the admonishment by Tobin displays an inconsistency.

“The bishops have taken I think a wise stand against the proliferation of nuclear weapons,” he said. “Would they apply withholding of the Eucharist to someone who supports increasing nuclear stockpiles?”

The health care debate reveals the depth of division on the issue, according to McLaren. Both sides apparently believe they are advocating language that makes the legislation effectively “abortion neutral,” meaning it doesn’t change existing abortion law.

“What we discovered is ‘abortion neutral’ is a matter of interpretation,” McLaren said, adding: “This is what happens in the politics of polarization. Each side plays to its more extreme base. It makes common ground and respectful dialogue harder to achieve. The idea that we’re playing a win-lose game, that you’re saying if you don’t agree with us, we’re not even going to have a conversation with you, that attitude chills civil discourse.”

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By philhigley, November 21, 2009 4:58 pm

So I just watched BG’s “The Plan,” which is a movie that seeks to portray why the Cylons wanted to destroy humanity, but from the Cylons’ perspective. The movie was great, thought provoking, and definitely delivered on the series’ usual ethics and theological/religious perspectives regarding the nature of love, mercy/grace, sacrifice, redemption, repentance, relationality, and god’s love (not capitalized on purpose).

My initial overall problem/quandary with the series was the question of why Cylons would care to destroy humanity in the first place (?). I mean, they are machines after all and I’m not sure how a machine could phenomenologically experience or have the emotion of vengeance. Ah, yes, good point right–but–these “machines” have now evolved and are striving to understand themselves in the universe, both as creations of humanity, and also creations–in some way–of god. The vengeance motif is powerful within the series because the Cylons want revenge due to  humanity using them as slaves so to speak. Though again, how can a machine even perceive itself to be a slave? This question was answered in the prequel series called Carpica. Simply put, the Cylons achieved  A.I. from human cosmology, so that’s how they achieved some sort of evolutionary leap into some sort of humanity. And since they were created by humanity, then they bore the likeness of humanity (according to the series). Sound familiar? Ya, Genesis says something very similar regarding the creation of Man.

Anyhow, back to the point: the Cylons hate humanity, but come to realize that they actually want to be loved by humanity. Some Cylons rebel against the love of humanity while some embrace it. Ultimately, the Cylons realize that they need to overcome vengeance by giving mercy to the humans. The result of the mercy and grace manifests itself in reconciliation and love between both creations. This happens, of course, after the Cylons destroyed 99% of humanity. Ooops, my bad…

There’s a lot more there, but you just need to go watch the series. It’s very dark and weighty, but worth it if you’ve got the stomach for serious ethical gray areas, nebulous theological references, and a loving god who is hidden but active in every episode.

P.S. The Cylons are monotheists and the humans are polytheists, so that’s weird too.