The accounts in Joshua of the destruction and massacre of the inhabitants of Canaan (e.g. Joshua 8 ) are pretty difficult, as are the commandments to Israel to do so in the Law (e.g. Deuteronomy 7). They’re very hard to understand, and are, of course, picked on frequently by opponents of Christianity.

I’m not going to pretend to answer all the questions about these, but I do think we need to understand them rightly. One passage that has an interesting bearing on this issue is 2 Samuel 21:1–2:

“Now there was a famine in the days of David for three years, year after year; and David inquired of the Lord. The Lord said, ‘There is blood-guilt on Saul and on his house, because he put the Gibeonites to death.’ So the king called the Gibeonites and spoke to them. (Now the Gibeonites were not of the people of Israel, but of the remnant of the Amorites; although the people of Israel had sworn to spare them, Saul had tried to wipe them out in his zeal for the people of Israel and Judah.)”

The story of the Gibeonites’ deception of Israel, resulting in the treaty that saved them, is recorded in Joshua 9. What’s interesting here, though, is the mention that Saul’s attempted genocide of them was (a) immoral, at least partly because of the treaty, and (b) motivated by nationalistic fervour — “zeal for the people of Israel and Judah”.

I think this is important to notice, because it reminds us that the devastations of Joshua etc. were not simply a matter of ethnic cleansing or nationalistic zeal (and so can never be taken as any kind of mandate for nationalistic expansion — in fact, Saul’s doing precisely that led to the famine). The “ban” on the inhabitants of Canaan was not really about Israel at all (cf. Deuteronomy 9:5). If we get that wrong, I don’t think we have a hope of making sense of them.

One of the most famous sayings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount is this one:

“You have heard it said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” (Matthew 5:27–28)

In a world as saturated in hard and soft pornography as ours, this is a profoundly confronting word (though to be honest, I think it has always been confronting).

What Jesus is saying, here as elsewhere in the Sermon on the Mount, is that what you do in your heart matters — that it is possible to sin in your thoughts and desires. To look at a woman “with lust” (which I think implies more than accidentally noticing that someone is attractive) is to commit the sin of adultery not bodily, but in the heart.

Various thoughts flow from this idea. Amongst other things, we might reasonably infer that other types of sexual sin can be committed in the heart. An unmarried person cannot, I take it, commit the sin of adultery, whether bodily or in the heart. But an unmarried person can commit the sin of fornication, in body, and, we may suggest, in the heart. This may be a useful way of clarifying our speech which will help us talk rightly about issues like pornography.

But what I want to do here is to ask what is the form of of godliness which obedience to this teaching produces. What, to put it differently, is the virtue that corresponds to this vice? I think we could characterise this as something like “purity of the heart”. What Jesus seeks in his people in teaching them about sexual sin in the heart is for them to have hearts which are pure. In the case of the married person, whom, I think, Jesus specifically addresses here, purity particularly means faithfulness. Our Lord wants married people to be faithful not just in body but in spirit: to be people of faithful hearts, hearts which belong solely to our husband or wife, and which flee from any form of unfaithfulness.

What does it look like to be a person who is faithful in heart as well as in body. At the very least it will mean refraining from lustful looking — the sin which Jesus emphasises. But it may also mean refraining from other forms of unfaithfulness of the heart — perhaps fantasy that imagines a more desirable partner rather than delighting in what is; or perhaps emotional unfaithfulness that looks too much to another friendship to satisfy needs.

I have found thinking in this way a helpful discipline. God does not simply want me to not do something. He wants me to be a particular type of person, a person who is faithful not just on the surface, but right the way down. I suspect this kind of thinking would also be fruitful for other aspects of Jesus’ teaching. Thoughts?

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In Deuteronomy 6:25, at the end of a major thematic statement about the nature of the Law and Israel’s obligations towards God, Moses declares,

If we are careful to obey all this law before YHWH our God, as he has commanded us, that will be our righteousness.

What is the nature of the guarantee Moses asserts here? What does righteousness mean here and what does it mean for this to follow from careful obedience? These questions reach to the heart of the nature of the Old Covenant, and the relation of Jesus to it.

In particular, we need to ask: does righteousness have the same meaning here as it does in Paul’s theology? That is, is righteousness about being “in the right” with God, and so “saved” (I am aware that this is assuming much, but I don’t see a way around a basic meaning of something like this).

Some tricky implications follow if we say yes. Most glaringly, we have to ask how the apostle Paul can say that “by observing the law no one will be justified” (Galatians 2:16; Romans 3:20)?

As far as I can tell, we have two options at this point. (1) First, we could say that the guarantee in Deuteronomy 6:25 was a real one, but never realised. That is, obedience to the law genuinely did lead to righteousness, but, as Paul points out, no one ever achieved it. This, however, leads us to a real dilemma when we consider another key factor in this discussion: Old Covenant characters in the Bible who are described as “righteous”. There are several such characters, but Zechariah and Elizabeth are particularly stark examples: “both of them were righteous in the sight of God, observing all the Lord’s commands and decrees blamelessly” (Luke 1:6). What do we do with this?

(2) Alternatively, we could say that when Paul said “by observing the law” he meant something different to what Moses meant when he said “if we are careful to obey all this law”. This may seem silly at face value, but it’s possible: Paul seems to emphasise the idea of reliance on the law (e.g. Romans 2:17; cf. Galatians 3:10). Is relying on the law what Moses was talking about? On this reading, Moses’ promise was real and Old Covenant saints like Zechariah and Elizabeth are examples of what it meant: they were truly righteous through obedience to the law. But, can we really say that “relying on the law” is not what Moses was talking about? And, where does this interpretation lead us to in terms of justification? Are we saying they were justified by works?

(3) The alternative to all of this, of course, is to say that no, actually, when Moses said “righteous” he meant something different to what Paul meant by “righteous”. Moses wasn’t talking about salvation or anything, he was talking about something a bit smaller — covenant responsibilities, perhaps. Saying this avoids a lot of the complications we’ve seen above. It would lead to the view that the Old Covenant saints have this righteousness, but that this was not righteousness in the sense Paul was interested in. However, this simplicity comes at a major cost, namely, the consistency of Scriptural terminology across the whole Bible. Do we really want to say that when we read about righteousness in the Old Testament it means something fundamentally different to righteousness in the New Testament? Would the apostle Paul have believed this?

I’m not sure what I think the answer to this one is. I’m not at all happy with option (3), though I know people who are. I’m also not happy with (1) because of what it implies about the law and because of the inconsistency with descriptions of people in the Bible. Though I’m also unclear about (2), I think overall it has the best potential. After all, what did being careful to obey the law look like according to Moses? At least in part it meant to “love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength” (Deuteronomy 6:5). This was pretty important for Jesus, too. And I don’t find it too hard to believe that this was not, actually, what Paul was talking about when he said that no one will be justified by deeds prescribed by the law. I wonder if, for Moses, “being careful to obey” the law was not at all a matter of relying on the law?

Hmmmm…

In Colossians 2:6-7, Paul calls on believers,

“As you therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so live in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith…”

There are two metaphors here for the process of Christian maturation. One is drawn from organic life – a tree which is rooted; the other is architectural – a building which is built up. These two metaphors match (sort of), two other ideas the Bible frequently uses to describe Christian maturing: to grow (Greek auxano, e.g. Col 1:10; 1 Pet 2:2; 2 Pet 3:18) and to become complete or perfect (Greek teleioo or katartizo, e.g. Phil 1:6; Heb 13:21; Js 1:4).

It seems to me that we do well to pay attention to these two metaphors. They suggest different things. One implies the idea of flourishing, growing strength, development upwards and outwards – like a tree. The other has a real sense that there is a plan to which one is moving towards, a fitting and determined shape that is the goal of development.

My impression is that in thinking about what is good for people, our world and often our church is big on the first image, growth, but perhaps not so big on the second. We like the idea that I am to flourish, fulfilling my potential perhaps. But the idea that there is a right shape for me, that I was made to be a particular way and that it is not actually up to me to decide what that is, is not so trendy.

The Bible, however, has both these ideas, and both of them are for our good. We are meant to grow and flourish in Christ, like a tree; but we are also meant to become complete or finished, like a building.

*”Weekly Digests” have been renamed “Dots and Strokes”. This is a reference to Matthew 5:18, but was also necessitated by the irregularity of these posts, which had rendered the old name a bit of a nonsense.

Towards the end of Paul’s long argument in response to the factionalism in the Corinthian church the apostle makes a surprising move. He returns to his central exhortation — “So let no one boast about human leaders” — but then says this as the reason:

For all things are yours, 22whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future—all belong to you, 23and you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God. (1 Cor. 3:21–23)

Why does Paul give this reason? What is the underlying rationale here? I think the apostle has tapped into something deeply interesting: what is attractive about factionalism is the sense of possession it creates. To be a member of a party defined over against other parties, and claiming to be the superior one, is to make a claim to possess truth most fully. And truth brings with it the sense of right, the right to control, the right to influence, the right to command. but Paul counters this with a remarkable claim: all things are yours! Because of Christ, there is no need to fight for possession, to treat life and power as a zero sum game where if one group has, the other does not. No, that is the way of the wisdom of the world; but that is foolishness to God (3:19). The fulness of possession that comes through Christ is the antidote to the competitive games of parties and gurus.

In John 16:8–11, Jesus makes an interesting comment which I believe bears on debates about the nature of justification. Speaking of the Spirit as the Advocate, he says,

And when he comes, he will prove the world wrong about sin and righteousness and judgment: about sin, because they do no believe in me; about righteousness, because I am going to the Father and you will see me no longer; about judgment, because the ruler of this world has been driven out.

There is much that could interest us here (not least the clear statement that judgment is first and foremost about the devil); but what I want to draw attention to is Jesus’ association of righteousness with his going to the Father, which I believe is a reference to his exaltation. The Spirit’s revelation to the world about the reality of righteousness is a function of Jesus’ ascension. Why? I think it is because Jesus’ exaltation from death to the Father’s right hand is to be understood as his vindication, or indeed, his justification, by the Father (compare 1 Tim. 3:16). The exalted Jesus is the justified, vindicated one. He is the righteous one.

There are not many places in the New Testament which describe Jesus’ exaltation as his vindication. But I think the association is there in this passage. If this is correct, it adds to Michael Bird’s argument, discussed recently here on Michael Jensen’s blog, and mentioned previously on this blog here and here, that our justification is about being united to Christ in his own exaltation, his going to the Father.

I am currently in a country in which icons and religious images abound – most buses will have a picture of Jesus inside, statues of Mary are frequently found in roadside shrines, etc. It is often assumed that the problem with such a proliferation of  images is idolatry. There is no doubt truth in this. But interestingly, it is not simply images that are common; there are words everywhere as well. Truck bumper bars will often have a slogan like ‘Dios es amor’ (God is love). Shops will have religious titles like ‘Botica niño Jesus’ (Pharmacy of the baby Jesus!). And it seems to me that perhaps a bigger problem than idolatry raised by such an abundance of public religious expression is the danger of hypocritical piety. Jesus’ words in the sermon on the mount need to be heard:

Beware of practising your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven… And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 6But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. (Matthew 6:1, 5-6)

Jesus identifies true piety with private piety. This is not, of course, to say that all public religion is false; it is to say that religious expression that is only public is false. Religion that is content with a public frame of reference is not genuine piety: rather, it is hypocrisy – not being in truth what one claims to be through one’s actions or words. Piety which is content with public expression, but which ignores the personal reality that the private world reveals, is not true piety.

A culture that encourages and uncritically embraces public expressions of religious affection runs the risk of cultivating a false piety, a piety which is only public, a superficial and hypocritical shadow of true devotion to God. Of this kind of religion, which of course we are all n danger of in one way or another, our Lord warns us forcefully: Beware!

The first verses of 1 Timothy 2 draw a remarkable link between good government and the possibilities of gospel mission:

First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings should be made for everyone, 2for kings and all who are in high positions, so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity. 3This is right and is acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour, 4who desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.

 

Paul urges prayers be made for government so that people will be able to live in peace – so that people can get on with normal life, uninterupted by the chaos that flows from the absence of political authority. Interestingly, Paul sees this as right precisely because of God’s desire for everyone to be saved. Paul thus links good government with Christian mission. Peace and security, we find, contribute to the spread and success of the gospel.  

This makes sense, of course: mission is not aided when people are fearful simply for their survival, or when communication and mobility are impeded. Peace and what is here called ”quietness” perhaps free people up to hear the gospel and to engage in the relationships that facilitate mission.

I wonder, too, whether this passage makes a contribution to the endless debate about the relationshp of ‘’social action” to Christian mission. Humanitarian action, social support, and aid seek to make it possible for people to live normal lives, to live in peace without their whole lives being consumed by fear for survival. Perhaps if we appreciated the importance of this contribution for opening possibilities for  mission, much would fall into place.

P.S. Sorry the ”weekly” digests have been a bit non-weekly – at least it’s weekly for this week:)

Byron has just posted a fantastic reflection on the US election. Everyone should read it. It’s led me to reflect a little more on stuff I’ve posted about before: the vital importance of humility for political authority. Consider how limited Paul’s view of government is:

There is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God… It is the servant of God to execute wrath on the wrongdoer. Therefore one must be subject, not only because of wrath but also because of conscience. (Romans 13:1–5)

Government is simply God’s servant, given the very small task of judgment. The world already has a Lord, and its hope and final good have already been disclosed. When a government fails to appreciate this, when it sets itself up as the focus of our hopes and dreams, then it places itself where only Jesus should go. The Bible teaches us we should be very wary of this kind of thing—it is the way of the beast:

In amazement the whole world followed the beast. They worshiped the dragon, for he had given his authority to the beast, and they worshiped the beast, saying, “Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it?” (Revelation 13:3–4)

May God preserve us all from slipping into this kind of idolatry. Because political authority is enticing. It has the power to take hold of our souls in excitement and expectation. But let no one fool us: the only hope of the world is the Lord Jesus Christ and his kingdom.

In his acceptance speech, Obama said this:

“The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America – I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you – we as a people will get there.”

Please, please, let us not be fooled: no we won’t, no you won’t. America is not the hope of the world.

We should all pray that God would give Obama and his government the humility and wisdom to seek to play the role God has given to government, and so be, as I hope they will, genuinely good.

In his famous reply to the Sadducees’ trick question about marriage in the resurrection, Jesus says this:

And as far as the dead being raised, have you never read in the book of Moses, in the story about the bush, how God said to him, ‘I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? He is God not of the dead, but of the living; you are quite wrong. (Mark 12:26–27)

This is a somewhat confusing line of argument (so much so that I once had a question at University about whether Jesus’ argument here is convincing to “the modern reader”!). Jesus is essentially saying that the truth of resurrection follows from God’s being the God of the living. And because God has bound himself in covenant to be the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, these people must still be alive. It seems that Jesus saw this as leading to a belief in their future resurrection—the God of the living will certainly give life.Jesus’ argument thus rests on his stark and beautiful claim about God: he is not God of the dead, but of the living.

Yet there are still genuine puzzles here. Most interestingly, Jesus’ words raise the question: what does it mean for someone to be alive when they are bodily dead? In what sense are Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob alive?

I think the answer that most quickly springs to mind is that the dead are in some sense “spiritually alive”. Perhaps their souls live in a spiritual realm or something. Luke’s version of this interaction, however, gives us pause here. Where Mark has “you are quite wrong”, Luke includes these words: “for to him all of them are alive”. (Luke 20:38) These words function, for Luke, as an explanation of Jesus’ comment that God is the God of the living. God is the God of the living because to him, all are alive. Notice that Luke doesn’t say, they are alive with God, but that they are alive to God.

Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are alive because they are the subjects of God’s attention. They are not alive because of anything about them, such as some kind of immortal soul. They are alive because they are alive to God—because God knows them, and he will never forget them.