Biblical narrative and artful sermons

Robert Alter’s The Art of Biblical Narrative (Basic Books, 1981), which I have only just belatedly read, thanks to Chris’ recommendations, is stunning. Alter compellingly describes biblical narrative as historical prose fiction, and outlines numerous techniques and styles used by the biblical authors to create their accounts. Even more interestingly, Alter shows how the literary style of the Bible is of a piece with the underlying theological convictions of the Hebrew faith. Here’s an example:

“The underlying biblical conception of character as often unpredictable, in some ways impenetrable, constantly emerging from and slipping back into a penumbra of ambiguity, in fact has greater affinity with dominant modern notions than do the habits of conceiving character typical of the Greek epics. The monotheistic revolution in consciousness profoundly altered the ways in which man as well as God was imagined, and the effects of that revolution probably still determine certain aspects of our conceptual world more than we suspect. This altered consciousness was of course expressed ideologically in the legislative and prophetic impulses of the Bible, but in biblical narrative it was also realized through the bold and subtle articulation of an innovative literary form. The narrative art of the Bible, then, is more than an aesthetic enterprise, and learning to read its fine calibrations may bring us closer than the broad-gauge concepts of intellectual history and comparative religion to a structure of imagination in whose shadow we still stand.”

To my mind, Alter convincingly shows that the biblical narratives are carefully constructed stories, with deliberate and stylized arrangement; and that this is not at all in conflict with their status as theological works.

This, to me, suggests an application for preaching on narratives: sermons split up unified stories into “points” to their peril. Biblical narratives are narratives, designed to be read as such. This means they do not simply make “points”. The truths they seek to communicate are reducible to propositions only at the cost of their generic presentation. This is not to say they cannot be explained in terms of propositions; but their value is not equivalent to these propositional explications. They teach us as stories. They are not simply ideas expanded into story form, which we can then unpick and restate simply. If we will be taught through these parts of Scripture, we need to experience them as stories. Perhaps this will make preaching more difficult; but perhaps it will also make it better.

The synoptic gospels and the nature of Scripture (5)

5. Matthew 24:15–22 || Mark 13:14–20 || Luke 21:20–24. Editing and “errors” (Part 3)

The different synoptic accounts of the “Olivet Discourse” (Jesus’ famous speech given while overlooking Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives) offer a fascinating comparison and give us a nice insight into the processes that went on in producing the gospels. A key part of the speech is Jesus’ prediction about “the desolating sacrilege” and what to do when it comes:

‘But when you see the desolating sacrilege set up where it ought not to be (let the reader understand), then those in Judea must flee to the mountains; someone on the housetop must not go down or enter the house to take anything away; someone in the field must not turn back to get a coat. Woe to those who are pregnant and to those who are nursing infants in those days! Pray that it may not be in winter. For in those days there will be suffering, such as has not been from the beginning of the creation that God created until now, no, and never will be. And if the Lord had not cut short those days, no one would be saved; but for the sake of the elect, whom he chose, he has cut short those days. (Mark 13:14–20)

‘So when you see the desolating sacrilege standing in the holy place, as was spoken of by the prophet Daniel (let the reader understand), then those in Judea must flee to the mountains; someone on the housetop must not go down to take what is in the house; someone in the field must not turn back to get a coat. Woe to those who are pregnant and to those who are nursing infants in those days! Pray that your flight may not be in winter or on a sabbath. For at that time there will be great suffering, such as has not been from the beginning of the world until now, no, and never will be. And if those days had not been cut short, no one would be saved; but for the sake of the elect those days will be cut short. (Matthew 24:15–22)

‘When you see Jerusalem surrounded by armies, then know that its desolation has come near. Then those in Judea must flee to the mountains, and those inside the city must leave it, and those out in the country must not enter it; for these are days of vengeance, as a fulfilment of all that is written. Woe to those who are pregnant and to those who are nursing infants in those days! For there will be great distress on the earth and wrath against this people; they will fall by the edge of the sword and be taken away as captives among all nations; and Jerusalem will be trampled on by the Gentiles, until the times of the Gentiles are fulfilled. (Luke 21:20–24)

What is fascinating here is to see the way Jesus’ speech was interpreted by Matthew and Luke (assuming what we said in earlier posts about the priority of Mark is right, although even if you think Matthew came first, it’s still interesting). Both Matthew and Luke make adjustments to make the speech a little easier to understand. Matthew’s adjustments are far more minor. Notably, he clarifies that “the desolating sacrilege” is a reference to Daniel (Note that he puts this clarification on the lips of Jesus). He also simplifies some of the final section, sometimes changing the tense of some verbs, as well as adding the idea of the flight not being on a sabbath (which may tell us something about the purpose or audience of his gospel).

Luke, however, completely overhauls this section. He completely demystifies the cryptic reference to “the desolating sacrilege” and writes, “When you see Jerusalem surrounded by armies, then know that its desolation has come near.” In fact, this whole section is rewritten to give no doubt that this is a prophecy about the impending destruction of Jerusalem at the hands of the Gentiles. Luke is still keenly aware that this is not just any old political event. It will happen “as a fulfilment of all that is written”; and the categories in which the speech is written are soaked in imagery from the prophets. Nevertheless, this is a major revision.

What does this tell us about Scripture? Nothing, I don’t think, we haven’t seen already. But it’s a particularly clear example of how the evangelists seem to have been happy on occasion to reinterpret Jesus’ words in order to make them clearer, or shorter, or perhaps to make them appropriate for a new context. Luke may very well have been writing after the destruction of Jerusalem did in fact take place (AD70). Perhaps he wanted to draw attention to the accuracy of Jesus’ prediction?

Why does it matter? Well, mainly because it’s good to have a clear-sighted understanding what kind of thing Scripture is. But also, in this case, because the comparison may significantly effect interpretation. To my mind, we would need special bravado to deny that when Jesus originally spoke on the Mount of Olives, he had in mind the destruction of Jerusalem, given the way Luke interprets this speech.

The synoptic gospels and the nature of Scripture (4)

4. Matthew 21:1–22 || Mark 11:1–26. Editing and “errors” (Part 2)

Matthew 21 and Mark 11 both record the beginning of Jesus’ climactic confrontation with the Jerusalem elite. Based in Bethany, probably at the home of Lazarus, Mary and Martha (cf. John 12:1–15), Jesus makes a number of forays into Jerusalem, with great effect. The two accounts are very similar, and as we have discussed previously, it is highly likely that Matthew used Mark’s account as a source for his own here. There are, however, a few differences in the way the material is ordered. These differences can most clearly be seen when the two versions of the fig tree incident are compared:

On the following day, when they came from Bethany, he was hungry. Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to see whether perhaps he would find anything on it. When he came to it, he found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs. He said to it, ‘May no one ever eat fruit from you again.’ And his disciples heard it. Then they came to Jerusalem… And when evening came, Jesus and his disciples went out of the city. In the morning as they passed by, they saw the fig tree withered away to its roots. Then Peter remembered and said to him, ‘Rabbi, look! The fig tree that you cursed has withered.’ (Mark 11:12–21)

In the morning, when he returned to the city, he was hungry. And seeing a fig tree by the side of the road, he went to it and found nothing at all on it but leaves. Then he said to it, ‘May no fruit ever come from you again!’ And the fig tree withered at once.When the disciples saw it, they were amazed, saying, ‘How did the fig tree wither at once?’ (Matthew 21:18–20)

The main difference here is that, whereas in Mark the fig tree incident happens over two days—on the morning of the first day (which is Jesus’ second day in Jerusalem, cf. 11:11), Jesus curses the fig tree; on the morning of the following day (Jesus’ third day in Jerusalem), the disciples notice the fig tree is withered—in Matthew, the account happens all at once, on what seems to be the morning of Jesus’ second day in Jerusalem. For whereas Mark has Jesus go back to Bethany immediately after the triumphal entry (Mark 11:11), Matthew skips this interlude, and the story of the temple action follows immediately after the triumphal entry, giving the impression that it happened all at once (Matthew 21:10–13). Of course, Matthew doesn’t say this explicitly, but this is what it feels like.

So what we probably have is Matthew contracting Mark’s account by compressing the action of two days into one. This means he places the whole fig tree incident, which in Mark occurred on the mornings of days two and three, on the morning of his day two. Make sense?

But there’s a little more: in the process of Matthew’s contraction, he makes a significant alteration. He adds the idea that the fig tree withered “at once” (parachrêma). This change is then emphasised in the altered interaction between the disciples and Jesus. Whereas Mark has Peter say, “Rabbi, look! The fig tree that you cursed has withered”, Matthew has the disciples ask “How did the fig tree wither at once?”

What should we make of this? We need to recognise that, presuming we have reconstructed things rightly, this is a pretty legitimate move on Matthew’s part. It is an obvious way to contract the account, and Matthew has done so in a way which doesn’t really lose much except Mark’s chronology, which he seems to have not been especially interested in. All the important bits are still there. So big deal, we might say.

Yet, again, we need to make sure we’re honest about what is going on here. Matthew’s account is, from one point of view, historically inaccurate. Presuming Mark’s account was primary, Matthew’s description of the fig tree incident was not actually exactly how it happened, even if all the important bits are there. Again, I want to say that an incident like this causes a problem for a “hard” view of the inerrancy of Scripture.

But why bother with all this? Well, let me suggest one last thing. If you were preaching on Matthew’s version of this passage, I think it would be wise to be careful how you dealt with the words “at once”. It would be very tempting to make much of how the immediate effect of Jesus’ action showed its power. However, we need to reckon with the fact that that’s probably not quite how it happened. So to make a big theological point of this issue might be to ignore the historical issues underlying it. It could be that Matthew simply needed a way to move directly (“at once”) from the action to the discourse.

The synoptic gospels and the nature of Scripture (3)

3. Luke 7:1–10 || Matthew 8:5–13. Editing and “errors” (Part 1)

The account of the healing of the centurion’s servant in Matthew and Luke is very interesting for thinking about the nature of the Bible God has given us.

After Jesus had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people, he entered Capernaum. A centurion there had a slave whom he valued highly, and who was ill and close to death. When he heard about Jesus, he sent some Jewish elders to him, asking him to come and heal his slave. When they came to Jesus, they appealed to him earnestly, saying, ‘He is worthy of having you do this for him, for he loves our people, and it is he who built our synagogue for us.’ And Jesus went with them, but when he was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to say to him, ‘Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; therefore I did not presume to come to you. But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed. For I also am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, “Go”, and he goes, and to another, “Come”, and he comes, and to my slave, “Do this”, and the slave does it.’ When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd that followed him, he said, ‘I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.’ When those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave in good health. (Luke 7:1–10)

When he entered Capernaum, a centurion came to him, appealing to him and saying, ‘Lord, my servant is lying at home paralysed, in terrible distress.’ And he said to him, ‘I will come and cure him.’ The centurion answered, ‘Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; but only speak the word, and my servant will be healed. For I also am a man under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, “Go”, and he goes, and to another, “Come”, and he comes, and to my slave, “Do this”, and the slave does it.’ When Jesus heard him, he was amazed and said to those who followed him, ‘Truly I tell you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith. I tell you, many will come from east and west and will eat with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, while the heirs of the kingdom will be thrown into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ And to the centurion Jesus said, ‘Go; let it be done for you according to your faith.’ And the servant was healed in that hour. (Matthew 8:5–13)

A number of things are interesting here:

1. The central section of the Centurion’s speech is almost identical in Matthew and Luke. This means two things: (a) we are probably dealing with Q material, that is, Matthew and Luke used the same source; (b) both Matthew and Luke are referring to the same historical event. It is simply inconceivable  that there were two centurions who both had a servant Jesus’ healed and who gave exactly the same speech. This is important because of the second thing that’s interesting.

2. These two accounts of what happened, as they stand at face value, cannot both be strictly what happened. Either the centurion met Jesus in person, or he didn’t. There’s no way to get around this. In Matthew, he comes to Jesus himself; in Luke he doesn’t, and makes a point of it! He sends elders, then friends who mention that he “did not presume to come to you”. Matthew and Luke can’t both be right if taken at face value.

3. What has most likely happened is that Matthew has cut out the middle men in order to shorten the account. This kind of thing is not that unusual for Matthew (compare, e.g. Mark 5:21–43 to Matthew 9:18–26). Matthew obviously has a particular interest in telling this story: to use the centurion as an example of gentile faith, using Jesus’ comment about Israel to introduce the apocalyptic prophecy about many from east and west. These factors mean it is perhaps a little ridiculous to condemn Matthew’s truncation of the account. He knew what he was doing and did it deliberately. Furthermore, his alteration has not undermined the essential features of the story: the centurion remains humble, and makes the same statement. If you needed to shorten the account, how would you have done it better?

But what does this mean for our understanding of Scripture? I think what it means is this: we can’t blindly hold to a narrow or “hard” understanding of the inerrancy of Scripture. We cannot simply state that Scripture is inerrant without explaining further what we mean. For the fact of the matter is that, from one perspective, one of Matthew or Luke is in error here.

But that’s not to say we jettison inerrancy completely. Because it is frankly silly to make a big thing of Matthew’s inaccuracy here (assuming my comments above is fair) when you consider (a) it was all deliberate, and (b) it didn’t really make much difference to anything important about the story. Did the centurion “come” to Jesus? Well, yes he did. Matthew’s account is still accurate. We should not make more of this than there is. I believe some concept of inerrancy is essential (as I have argued before). I just don’t think it can be a simple concept—it has to be nuanced.

The synoptic Gospels and the nature of Scripture (2)

2. Matthew 5:3–12 || Luke 6:20–26. The possibilities of oral tradition.

As is well known, Matthew and Luke both have a version of Jesus’ famous “Sermon on the Mount” (Matthew 5–7; Luke 6:20–49). Luke’s is sometimes called the Sermon on the Plain, because we are told in Luke 6:17 that Jesus gave this teaching standing on “a level place”. There are lots of similarities, but there are also lots of differences. These are nowhere better demonstrated than in the two versions of the beatitudes.

“Then he looked up at his disciples and said: ‘Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. ‘Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. ‘Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. ‘Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice on that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.’” (Luke 6:20–23)

“When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying: ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. ‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. ‘Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. ‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. ‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. ‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. ‘Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.’” (Matthew 5:1–12)

There are obvious similarities here, both in vocabulary, structure, and ideas. But there are also very significant differences: Matthew’s version looks decidedly more “spiritual” than Luke’s — “poor in spirit”, or “poor”. Moreover, in Luke, a series of “woes” follow immediately, on the rich and those doing well (6:24–26).

So what is going on here? As far as I can see, there are at least four possibilities at this point. (1) First, we could conclude that because of the extensive disagreements, it’s all a hoax and nothing happened. This is silly. (2) Second, we could attempt to harmonize the two accounts and try to work out how they could both derive from one original occasion. Perhaps Jesus gave this sermon from a flat ridge on the side of a mountain, and perhaps he was sometimes standing and sometimes sitting (compare Matthew 5:1 with Luke 6:17). But this sounds ridiculous and ends up riding rough-shod over the differences. (3) Third, we could argue that this is a case of a common underlying source (Q) being developed in two different ways by Luke and Matthew. The problem here, though, is that the differences are very substantial, much more than in the passage we looked at in Part 1. Are we really dealing with a common written source? And if so, how do we account for the changes? (4) Finally, we might say that these sermons simply reflect two (or more) different historical occasions. As N. T. Wright suggests,

“My guess would be that we have two versions of the great supper parable, two versions of the talents/pounds parable, and two versions of the beatitudes, not because one is adapted from the other, or both from a single common written source, but because these are two out of a dozen or more possible variations that, had one been in Galilee with a tape-recorder, one might have ‘collected’.” (N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, 170).

So these two accounts might simply reflect two different events. This is getting interesting.

What should we conclude? We do, I think, need to embrace the insight that there were multiple historical occasions of teaching. After all, Jesus had a long ministry, and he would surely have said the same kind of stuff on more than one occasion. Jesus would have done many different sermons, so (as Calvin also suggested) we are probably dealing here with summaries of Jesus’ teaching on several occasions.

But is the recognition that there were multiple historical occasions of Jesus’ teaching sufficient to account for what we have in the Gospels, and particularly, for the similarities between accounts? The problem is that there is still the process of transmission to think about, the gap between Jesus and the Gospels. And this gap is normally seen to involve the development and preservation of oral traditions, which then formed the basis for the Gospel accounts. We know Luke and Matthew used sources, and that at points they used the same sources. For this reason, I’m hesitant to throw out the hypothesis that the similarities at a point like this are partly due to dependence on common material.

I reckon we probably need to sketch an outline of the process as follows.

1. There probably were multiple historical occasions of Jesus’ teaching, and the disciples would have heard things more than once.
2. This teaching was consciously and deliberately formulated into relatively fixed traditions in the early church, for the purpose of preaching and instruction. This process was careful and subject to the authority of eyewitnesses. It also would have included translation into Greek. These traditions could easily have “cross-polinated” to some extent. Bits could be picked up and reframed and the order of things might have changed in the process.
3. The evangelists adapted and shaped these traditions in producing the gospels.

The differences and similarities between the synoptic accounts of the Sermon on the Mount/Plain could be the product of all three stages: Jesus said the same kinds of things in different ways more than once; the early church consolidated and formulated this teaching in potentially more than one form; and the evangelists adapted this material to fit their presentation. What we have in the case of the Sermon is two carefully preserved traditions of Jesus’ teaching. Their differences may well derive originally from Jesus himself and the variations in his preaching. But I don’t think we can assume that’s the whole explanation. There could easily have been some kind of relationship and mutual interaction between the traditions in the course of their preservation.

What would this mean for the way we think about Scripture? Well, it forces us to think carefully about the relation accounts in the texts have to historical events. We need to bite a historical bullet: probably neither Matthew’s nor Luke’s version is
strictly what Jesus said on exactly one occasion. Rather, they are both probably careful, summarised formulations that reflect historical occasions. They are still good history, though. In fact, the differences between Matthew and Luke look very much like they derive from genuine memory of different historical events. There is every reason to think these accounts accurately reflect Jesus’ teaching. Jesus certainly said these things, and he was most likely responsible for the common structure we have preserved by both evangelists. But I don’t think we can just assume there is a kind of one-to-one correspondence between events and accounts.

All this is a bit speculative, I know; and at points I am probably in error. But here are some thoughts. I’d appreciate your responses!

The Synoptic Gospels and the Nature of Scripture (1)

1. Luke 3:7–9 || Matthew 3:7–10. The case for underlying sources.

The Gospels, especially Matthew and Luke, were partially based on underlying sources. This is not a controversial claim these days, and it’s an accepted starting point for Gospels study.

But why do scholars think this? The basic reason is the elaborate verbal parallels between the Gospels. Matthew and Luke reproduce, sometimes word for word, much of Mark’s Gospel, which makes you think they had a copy.* There are also other parallels between Matthew and Luke that suggest something below the surface. I reckon when you get a bit of a look at these, they are very compelling evidence that there were sources underlying the written accounts we now have. Let me give one good example: Luke 3:7–9 || Matthew 3:7–10.

He said therefore to the multitudes that came out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits that befit repentance, and do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is laid to the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” (Luke 3:7–9)

But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit that befits repentance, and do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is laid to the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” (Matthew 3:7–10)

This is a classic “Q” passage: it’s not from Mark, but it’s almost exactly the same in Matthew and Luke. The italicised sections are those which are identical. There are a few minor differences: Matthew has “fruit” (singular), while Luke has “fruits” (plural); and Matthew says do not “presume” (Greek: doxête) where Luke has “begin” (Greek: arxêsthe). Other than that, all that differs is the introduction.

What does this tell us? Either Matthew used Luke or Luke used Matthew, or both of them used a common source. Because both Luke and Matthew seem to make their own alterations to Mark, but neither one seems to follow the other’s changes,‡ the best explanation seems to be that they both depend on a common source, which scholars have called Q—short for the German “Quelle”, which means “source (thanks Germany). (For another good example of a “Q” passage, compare Luke 11:9ff with Matthew 7:7–11.)

But what kind of source was this “Q”? In particular, was it a written source, or oral tradition? The jury has not returned a unanimous verdict, although the majority probably favour the written source line. Personally, I’m open to either. “Q” seems to mostly consist in teachings of Jesus—the Sermon on the Mount, for instance. I don’t find it unthinkable that all this could have originally been oral material. Luke’s reference to written sources (Luke 1:1), however, might tip the balance the other way. Either way, we’re dealing with some kind of consolidated Jesus tradition.

But to return to our topic: What does this tell us about the nature of Scripture? Well, for one thing, I think it forces us to broaden our concept of inspiration. We cannot imagine the production of the Gospels as simply the work of single authors fed words by the Spirit of God. The Gospels were the product of a gradual process involving much human labour, scholarship, and ingenuity; and the Spirit of God was involved at every step—from the conception of the Lord Jesus, through the preservation of the traditions about him in the earliest church, to Luke’s putting the finishing touches to the Gospel. The Spirit inspired not just Mark’s writing, but also Peter’s proclamation before him and Matthew’s cutting and pasting after him. If we don’t have a concept of inspiration that can encompass the process we find evidence of in the Gospels, we’re not doing justice to the Bible God has given to us.

*Some continue to argue for the “Griesbach” hypothesis: that the order went Matthew —> Luke —> Mark. I am not convinced. It seems to me to be much more likely that Mark came first.

‡This part of the argument is notoriously complicated, and many a scholar has never emerged from an undergraduate essay on this issue. For an excellent introduction, see Christopher Tuckett’s book Q and the History of Early Christianity.

New series: The synoptic Gospels and the nature of Scripture

Over the next few weeks, I plan to have a look at some examples of parallel passages in the synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark and Luke), and to ask the question what they tell us about the nature of Scripture. I find this a fascinating subject and I hope you will too. But I also think it is a good way to proceed. God has given us four Gospels, three of which overlap very significantly. If that wasn’t an invitation to ask these kinds of questions, I don’t know what would be. So with the firm assumption that Matthew, Mark, and Luke as we have them are truly the word of God to us, what I want to do is to look at some parallel passages, in order to discover more about what kind of word it is that God has given us. Sound good? Here’s an outline of what I want to look at:

1. Luke 3:7–9 || Matthew 3:7–10. The case for underlying sources.

2. Matthew 5:3–12 || Luke 6:20–26. The possibilities of oral tradition.

3. Luke 7:1–10 || Matthew 8:5–13. Editing and “errors” (Part 1)

4. Matthew 21:1–22 || Mark 11:1–26. Editing and “errors” (Part 2)

5. Matthew 24:15–22 || Mark 13:14–20 || Luke 21:20–24. Editing and “errors” (Part 3)

St Basil on Grammar

I’ve been reading Basil the Great’s On The Holy Spirit. Over the next couple of weeks I’ll probably post some highlights from this amazing theological work; but I thought I’d start with some comments from Basil on grammar and its theological significance—maybe to encourage those fellow students I know who are heading towards language exams:)

The issue Basil is wrestling with is how to speak of God the Trinity. He has argued that saying “Glory to God the Father with the Son and with the Holy Spirit” is legitimate; his opponents (who are actually subordinationists) insist that only “Glory to God the Father through the Son and in the Holy Spirit” is a legitimate way of speaking.

“Both doxologies are used by the faithful, and so we use both; we believe that either one ascribes perfect glory to the Spirit. The mouths of these corrupters of the truth may be more easily silenced, however, by Scripture’s identical use of the conjunction and and the preposition with… The Lord said “… the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit”; if I would say “the Father and the Son with the Holy Spirit”, have I changed the meaning of anything?… I cannot see any [difference], unless a pedantic grammarian insists that a coordinate conjunction brings about a stronger union than a preposition… I will explain why our fathers began to use the preposition with in the doxology, although it seems to me that the reason is obvious even to someone hearing it for the first time. With and and would be equally useful in fighting the wickedness of Sabellius [Modalism], since either one reveals that the Persons are distinct: “I and my Father will come”, or “I and the Father are one”. But with is an especially useful word because it testifies to eternal communion and unceasing cooperation. If we say that the Son is with the Father, we mean two things: first, that their persons are distinct, and second, that they are inseparably united in fellowship… So not only does the word with destroy the heresy of Sabellius, as no other word can, but it also defeats those who err in the opposite direction.” (On the Holy Spirit, 59)

It’s nice to know that grammar is useful, but that one doesn’t need to be a pedant to make use of it.

The Older Son and the Prodigal Son: A reflection on Luke 15

The story of the “Prodigal son” in Luke chapter 15 is one of the most powerful and moving stories in the Bible, revealing great, deep truths of the most important kind.

On the one hand, the story shows us something of the tragedy and offense of human sin. The younger son’s action (15:11–16) is arrogant, offensive, pathetic, and stupid all at the same time. It is a despicable act of proud disdain for his Father that fully deserves the strongest condemnation. But it is also a tragic act of a stupid boy that leads him into the degradation anyone could have seen coming. This is sin. Offensive, stupid self-destruction.

On the other hand, this story shows us the astonishing and truly prodigal depths of God’s love for his creatures. The Father is the story’s real surprise (15:20–24). He sees the younger son from far off — He is watching out for him. He is filled not with hatred or rage, but with compassion. He runs to him and embraces him, disgracing Himself. He restores him at his own expense and celebrates in public. As Saint John put it, “Behold what manner of love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God” (1 John 3:1).

But there is, of course, another element to the story: the older son in the field who is indignant when he finds out what has happened (15:25–32). In the context, this character represents a challenge to the disgruntlement of the Pharisees and scribes about Jesus’ association with sinners (15:1–2).

But the older son shows us more, I think, than simply how Israel’s leaders have gone wrong. Because the older son in the story is the counterpoint to Jesus. Jesus is the Bible’s true Older Son, the firstborn of all creation (Colossians 1:15), the first among many brothers (Romans 8:29); and where the older son in the story failed, Jesus succeeded. Jesus’ description of the feelings of the older son is profound, because they are the temptations He faced. The older son of Luke 15 shows us something by contrast, therefore, of the relationship of Jesus the Son to the Father.

He was “by rights” equal with his Father. His obedience was perfect (Luke 15:29; Hebrews 4:15). And truly, all that was the Father’s, was His (Luke 15:31; John 16:15). Yet the Older Son did not consider this equality as something to be exploited for his own sake (Luke 15:29; Philippians 2:6). Instead, He emptied Himself. The story in Luke 15 does not tell the whole truth. In reality, we are more lost even than the younger son. We are not able, on our own, to “come to ourselves” (15:17). We are, as the Father described the younger son, “dead” (15:24, 32; cf. Ephesians 2:1). But knowing the love of His Father for the sinful younger son, the Older Son set off and went Himself all the way into the distant country. And there He took his younger brother’s place in the humiliation of the pig trough (15:15–16), taking the form of a slave, and ransomed his younger brother’s life by dying his death.
And therefore,

God exalted Him to the highest place and gave Him the name above all names, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:9–11)

Isaiah for the new year

“Truly, O people in Zion, inhabitants of Jerusalem, you shall weep no more. He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry; when he hears it, he will answer you. Though the Lord may give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself any more, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’ Then you will defile your silver-covered idols and your gold-plated images. You will scatter them like filthy rags; you will say to them, ‘Away with you!’ ” (Isaiah 30:19-22)

I love the way that, in this passage, it is the presence of the Lord, the Teacher, that makes all the difference. Though their life may still be hard, their Teacher’s guidance will lead to wonderful spiritual renewal as they cast away their idols. This passage, I believe, should be a great reminder of the glorious blessing of God’s presence with us in his Spirit, who will guide us into all truth (Jn 16:13), and speaks a tender word behind us: “This is the way; walk in it!”