Showing posts with label Ethics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ethics. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Sermon on the Mount, sections B & B' (part 2)







Continuing where I left off in part one of this series about the Sermon on the Mount…

In the previous Beatitude we learned that “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice…” and what that entails.  Here, immediately afterward in verse seven, we find “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.”

Who are “the merciful”?  And is this merciful character contrary to a hunger and thirst for justice? How should we distinguish between mercy and justice?

One of the round-about ways I have tried to understand such questions is to think about how Christians today describe God, Jesus, and our relationship with Him. For example, Christians tend to talk a lot about God’s “grace.” Grace has, for a long time, been defined among Christians as receiving what we do not deserve, whereas “mercy” is defined as not receiving what we deserve. Grace is “unmerited favor”; there is nothing you did or could do to receive it. Grace is uncalled for, unwarranted, and freely bestowed. Mercy, on the other hand, is underserved treatment in light of what you did or could have done differently. Mercy is called for, warranted, and conditionally bestowed. Grace is positive favor irregardless of what justice demands; Mercy is leniency or mitigation in regard for what justice demands. Justice does not necessitate mercy. Yet mercy cannot be implemented without an absolute standard of justice. I think these are all helpful distinctions.

St. Jerome also spoke with agreement, saying that “Justice and mercy are so united, that the one ought to be mingled with the other; justice without mercy is cruelty; mercy without justice, profusion.”1

And as St. Augustine points out, mercy is "coming to the aid of the miserable.”2

Therefore the merciful could be understood as those who hunger and thirst for Godly, or absolute, justice, the justice which only God can perfectly know and dish out. Like Jesus, the merciful are meek before the wicked who oppose Him; they mourn over what absolute justice demands, and so, as St. Augustine pointed out, they come to the aid of the miserable. By contrast, those who remain “rich in spirit” should be expected to receive absolute justice without mercy.



Who, then, according to the next Beatitude, are “the pure in heart”? And what does that have to do with “seeing God”?

The Greek word for “pure” could also (and probably does) mean “clean.” It is most frequently used throughout the Torah to describe those in need of ceremonial impurity, in order to draw near to God.

For example, within God’s Law the hands of God’s people needed to be clean, free from blood and other impurities. Their clothes needed to be clean, free from blood, bodily fluids, and contact with the dead. Their sacrifices also needed to be clean, free from blemishes and sickness. Their houses needed to be clean, free from pollution, mold, and contagious skin diseases. 

All of these were necessary to draw near to God in His house, but interestingly, a “clean heart” was not prescribed; instead, a “clean heart”, was developed through a relationship with God in his Temple. Such was not only taught in the Torah, but Paul also implies that he thought it developed over time through interaction with God. According to I Timothy 1:3-11, it’s developed through understanding and trusting in the goodness of God’s Law, in accordance with the gospel of God. Through understanding and believing in the goodness of God's Law, a “clean heart” that is accompanied by a good conscience and sincere faith in Jesus Christ produces the love which Paul aims for when he commissioned Timothy to confront enemies within the Church. Go and read I Timothy 1 for yourself. It's all taught there. 

In God’s Law, a person who is “clean in heart” is one who fears God and will not betray Him; he is one who loves God with undivided allegiance with all his heart (Deut. 6:1-6). The “clean in heart” are allowed to ascend the Mountain of the Lord, and stand in His Holy Place (i.e the Temple, which was God's "House"). The clean in heart are the ones who want to remain faithful to the Lord without reservation or falsehood, in order to teach others the ways of the Lord (Psalm 24:3-4; 51:10; 73:13).
“Who shall ascend the mountain of the Lord? And who shall stand in his holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to what is false and does not swear deceitfully.” (Psalm 24:3-4) 

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. …Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you.” (Psalm 51:10, 13)

Along with the Psalmist, Christians ought to see how clear the biblical symbolism must have been for first century Jews. St Jerome even noticed it when he said that “The pure is known by purity of heart, for the temple of God cannot be impure.”3



All of this, of course, connects with the next Beatitude. So then, why do we find, in the following Beatitude, it forecasted that “the peacemakers” are going to be called “sons of God”?

I think that an understanding of that question goes along with understanding of first century history. Most Christians I know have absolutely no clue about what was going on in the first century. Nevertheless, we find a taste of something crucial woven throughout the New Testament Scriptures. Indeed, throughout Matthew’s Gospel and throughout the history of first century Christianity, the “sons of God” were divided between Christian Jews and anti-Christian Jews. The anti-Christian Jews of Rabbinic Judaism considered themselves to be the true “sons of God.” That's a fact. According to various historians (like Eusebius, Hegessipus, etc.), first century Rabbinic Judaism was hostile to the “conversion” of Jews to Christianity. Josephus is also heavy on the emphasis of how radical and extreme first century Judaism was. Christian-Jews, on the other hand, did not consider themselves to be “converts,” but rather true heirs of the faith of Abraham through Israel’s promised Messiah; and they were at peace with their rejection by Rabbinic authorities.

Jesus, therefore, was likely teaching Israel that peacemaking would be essential for the world to see who was and was not a child of God and a faithful worshiper of God. It was because Jesus forecasted that there would be warfare and bloodshed that he also forecasted the need for his disciples to be true, non-violent peacemakers. 

As I was studying the Fathers’ comments about the Sermon on the Mount, I came across an interesting comment by St Augustine about the tension between war and peace. He wrote: 
Peace is the fixedness of order; by order, I mean an arrangement of things like and unlike giving to each its own place. And as there is no man who would not willingly have joy, so is there no man who would not have peace; since even those who go to war desire nothing more than by war to come to a glorious peace.4

Here are some questions floating around in my mind, which I think are helpful for us all to consider: Is peacemaking contrary to a hunger and thirst for justice? Is peacemaking contrary to just warfare? Is there even such a thing as just warfare, if God’s people are called to be peacemakers?

One interesting implication of that statement by Augustine is the way in which it relates to God. If it is true that people who go to war desire nothing more than to come to a glorious peace through it, then what does this teach us about the desire of the God we image, who does go to war against His enemies?

When we read the history of Israel and sometimes see the Lord going to war against the evil people and corrupt gods of certain nations (which they remained loyal to), we find at least two issues looming in the background:
  1. Those wicked nations and their gods relentlessly contended with the Lord, without repentance
  2. God’s enemies would not accept His terms of peace or heed his desire for brotherly love

In light of Augustine’s statement above, coupled with the Scripture’s own accounts, one implication of such warfare by God was His desire to bring his people, who did love Him, to “a glorious peace.”

The Scriptures only continue adding to this complex paradox. For instance, it is in the Scriptures that we find God waging war sometimes, but not all times. God wages war against certain people, but not all people. Jesus, the Son of God, says that he did not come to bring peace, but a sword; yet Jesus also says blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Jesus says that those who live by the sword will die by the sword; yet Jesus is the one who promises that many people of Israel in his generation would fall by the edge of the sword and be led captive among all nations, and Jerusalem would be trampled underfoot by the Gentiles (Luke 21). And in the book of Revelation we find a whole host of examples of Jesus and his angels waging war upon "the land" from "the heavens." In chapter nineteen the sharp sword used to strike down the unfruitful vineyard of Israel even comes from Jesus’ mouth.

With all of these added complexities in mind, let me show another important quote from St Augustine, who wrote:
Because nothing can contend against God, the children of God are peacemakers; for, of course, children ought to have a likeness to their Father.5

St. Hillary also wrote something along the same train of thought, when he wrote: 
The blessedness of the peacemakers is the reward of adoption, ‘they shall be called the sons of God.’ For God is our common parent, and no other way can we pass into His family than by living in brotherly love together.6

If such claims are all true, the complexities don’t end there. They get even more difficult to sort through once some other views of these saints come into play. For instance, both St. Augustine and St. Hillary believed and taught a “just war” theory, and they even contended against many enemies of the Christian faith; yet in all of their works they also promoted peacemaking and brotherly love, and in some of their works they even pray that God would avenge His persecuted saints in order to bring them peace.

How in the world are Christians supposed to solve this great complex paradox? 

Believe it or not, I have an answer. Or, I should say, the Christian Tradition has an answer which is deduced from the Scriptures themselves. That answer might not satisfy all people, but I have an answer; and that answer begins by understanding the history behind the New Testament. 

It is pretty much an indisputable fact that many first century Jewish authorities and their disciples displayed a kind of ruthless and bloodthirsty zealousness for the expansion of their own empire. They wanted the Roman empire gone and their own independence secured. (An excellent book on this subject is The Rise and Fall of Jewish Nationalism: Jewish and Christian Ethnicity in Ancient Palestine, by Doron Mendels.)

The first century was a time for the people of Christ’s kingdom to make peace and promote brotherly love as much as possible, and to die for the sake of Christ as necessary. By such faithful peacemaking unto death, not only would Christians be dissociated from the “richness of spirit” among the Jewish brethren, but their faithful witness to the truth-claims of Jesus would not be futile either.

With all of this in mind, one might also recall that in the book of Revelation, which describes first century Jewish persecution, we learn that the prayers of the saints who had died in the first century were heard, and the persecution they received for their faithful witness to Jesus was expected to be vindicated. That vindication of the prayers of Jesus’ peacemaking disciples occurred just as promised, by Jesus, beginning in the Jewish wars of 66 A.D. and definitively ending the old covenant administration in 70 A.D., by the destruction of Jerusalem and Herod’s Temple.
The I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne. They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the land?”  

Then they were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the number of their fellow servants and their brothers should be complete, who were to be killed as they themselves had been. When he opened the sixth seal, I looked, and behold, there was a great earthquake. 

…Then the kings of the earth and the great ones and the generals and the rich and the powerful, and everyone, slave and free, hid themselves in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains, calling to the mountains and rocks, “Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb, for the great day of wrath has come, and who can stand?” 
(Rev. 6:9-17)

According to the Book of Revelation, the prayers of the peacemaking saints were effective and necessary in bringing about God’s justice. Peacemaking is not contrary to praying for God to respond to injustice with perfect justice. We—the Church—need to learn how to put our complete trust in God. And I believe that a life of prayer is the answer to that “how.”

Those of us who tend toward being bloodthirsty for justice, who struggle with jealousy and selfish ambition, need to learn how to pray for God’s mercy and peace upon His enemies and upon ourselves. 

Those of us who tend toward an unrealistic ideal of total peacemaking and pacifism, who delight in timidity or struggle with having any desire for justice (as though that desire itself is taboo in God’s sight), need to learn how to pray for God’s perfect justice. But as we pray for God’s justice and peace, we must not pray or live according to a double-standard

If we pray that others would receive God’s peace, we must be peacemakers ourselves. If we petition God to bring justice upon others who persecute us unjustly, we must expect the same justice to applied to our own selves as well, if God ever catches us persecuting others.




All of this sheds light on the closing Beatitude: “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness (i.e. justice’s) sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Why are they “fortunate” if they are persecuted for the sake of justice? And what justice (or whose justice) are they going to be persecuted for?

In the following verse (Matthew 5:11), Jesus tells us whose justice threatens their enemies: “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.” 

Those who are persecuted for the sake of justice are the same as those who are persecuted falsely on Jesus’ account. They go out among their family and friends, proclaiming the “Gospel of the Kingdom,” but receive persecution for it, as Jesus would forecast again in Matthew chapter 10.


They were “fortunate” to be persecuted for “the sake of the justice” on Jesus’ account—on account of the Just One. They would also be persecuted for being more just than their enemies, and Jesus promised to reward their faithfulness with vindication. 

Since this is what Jesus promised to his first disciples, how much more does such a promise apply to his disciples in every generation thereafter?










1.  Thomas Aquinas, Catena Aurea: Commentary on the Four Gospels (volume 1), John Henry Newman, trans. (Veritatis Splendor Publications, 2012) p. 131
2.  Denis J. Kavanagh, trans., The Fathers of the Church: St. Augustine Commentary on the Lord's Sermon on the Mount with Seventeen Related Sermons (Catholic University Press: Washington, D.C., 2001 reprint) pp. 23
3.  Thomas Aquinas, Catena Aurea: Commentary on the Four Gospels (volume 1), John Henry Newman, trans. (Veritatis Splendor Publications, 2012) p. 132
4.  Ibid.
5.  Ibid. p. 133
6.  Ibid.







Friday, December 30, 2016

Suffering with Him




Jesus enters the world as we know it as it truly is. He enters a very human world, a world with human evil, human foolishness, and human suffering. He did not enter a sanitary world, or even a sanitized community of believers. If you've ever read the gospels, it's clear that the people of God and the land in the first century were both thoroughly polluted and in need of cleansing. Jesus came into that world--the world of evil, foolishness, and suffering as we still know it today. 

By entering this world, Jesus was willing to get his hands dirty in the muck and filth of humanity, and even suffer at the hands of the wicked. His suffering then led to scandal, exile, and death. From this paradigm, spokesmen for the Christian cause sometimes say that Jesus is connected with all of humanity's suffering, and that the incarnation gives meaning and purpose to "our" suffering. 

This is what I want to comment about.

I want to make very clear from the outset what Jesus did not do in making this "connection". What he did not do was suffer for the sake of suffering itself, or welcome scandals for the sake of being associated with the scandalous. He suffered because he preached repentance from sin and faith toward God in a world so perverse and lawless that God's very own people would crucify him for it. Jesus was scandalized because he exhorted his own people to forsake the perverse traditions of that generation and of their fathers. He was scandalized because he preached against the moral relativism of his generation, and led people to embrace the singular way of truth, justice, mercy, and peace. 

It is purported that Jesus wasn't afraid to hang out with the scandalous. Jesus was willing to "connect" with prostitutes and tax collectors and sinners. From this, allegedly, we learn that we who also live scandalous lives have this same connection with Jesus, because that's what his ministry was all about: connecting with the scandalous. He even suffered the shame of a scandalous life and death in order to show the world how purposeful and meaningful "our suffering" is.

Depending on what one means by that, that could be complete ethical nonsense.

Jesus' solidarity was not with fools or suffering-people in general, but rather the faithful first century remnant of his disciples who were willing to follow him and suffer for righteousness' sake, for the sake of the truth spoken by his prophets and just-ones. His solidarity is with those who turn away from evil and foolishness, and turn toward Him, never looking back. His solidarity is with those who have "washed their robes so that they may have the right to the tree of life and that they may enter the city by the gates" (Rev. 22:14). Their robes were bloody, and needed to be washed, because they were willing to be martyrs for the sake of the truth spoken by Jesus' prophets and just-ones. Their robes were spotted by the sins and injustice of others who hated Christ and his following of disciples. If our lives as Christians remain scandalous for the sake of actual injustice and falsehood and foolishness and evil, Jesus will say to us on the day we bow before his throne, "Outside with the sexually immoral and murderers and adulterers, and everyone who loves and practices falsehood" (Rev. 22:15). 

In other words, Jesus did not enter a very human world of evil, foolishness, and suffering in order to show perpetual solidarity with the lowliest of sinners. He stooped down to that low level to wash the feet of his disciples, not the feet of disciples of Apollo, Cybele, Diana, Baal, or even Caesar. He stooped low to wash his disciples, and to make better disciples. He stooped low and showed solidarity with the lowliest because he loved humanity, and wanted humanity to receive purification from him. Jesus did not and does not love sin, and by extension, those who habitually and unrepentantly sin (I John 3:6, 9). Sure, if we say that we have no sin at all, then the truth of Jesus Christ does not dwell in us (1 John 1:8-10). But the belief that we will not or cannot sin at all is a very different belief than the one revealed by Christ's apostles, that we ought not and are now able to not make a habit of it. The incarnation gives meaning and purpose to that very specific type of suffering--a cruciform one, one which looks like Jesus's suffering through obedience. If his disciples suffered for the sake of their own injustices, their own falsehoods, and their own foolishness, that suffering is their own fault, and Jesus wants nothing to do with it. But if we suffer in his name (i.e. as "Christians") for what is truly just and right, and for what is absolutely true, and for what God has revealed to be wise and good, then Jesus welcomes us to the tree of life.

But that's part of our problem, right? Instead of conforming our thoughts and our ethical standards to God's revealed standards, we question his revelation. In our own subtle, serpentine manner we think, "Did God really say that?" Instead of forsaking what God demands us to forsake--our foolishness, our relative and lax moral standards--we want Jesus to accept our foolishness and laxity. We want to remain what we are now, and we want Jesus to accept us for what we will always want to be, even if we want to remain infantile. When we read the gospels and think that Jesus wants solidarity with the foolish, sin-filled world he entered, we are the ones who are mistaken. He does not. Jesus entered this fallen world in order to raise sinners up with him, from death to eternal life. He stooped very, very low, not to "connect" with us where we are, in order to remain where we are, but to tell us face to face, eye to eye, in flesh and blood, "Repent!" and "Go and sin no more!"

That brings up the last problem I want to address: guilt and pity.

I can't tell you how many Christians I know who wallow in their own guilt and self-pity. They constantly sin and fall into foolish ways of thinking; and they admit it; they wallow in it. They think they can't escape it. And to claim otherwise--so it is thought--is blasphemy; it's allegedly contrary to "the gospel."

But is it really contrary to the gospel, to think and live as though you have been delivered from slavery to sin and foolishness? Is it really contrary to the "good news" that Jesus says to us, "Go and sin no more!", and he really expects us to do that? I don't think so. And I think that it's the height of spiritual arrogance to excuse ourselves from trying, as though no matter how hard we try we're not actually able to do so. 

But then one might respond: "Because we will sin in the future, at some point, we might as well rest content in being who we are, wretched fools saved only by the grace of God."

Here's what I have to say to that: Grow up. Stop thinking like a child, and forsake such childish ways of thinking. If he saved you from your sins, he delivered you from enslavement to sin. You don't have to wallow in some imaginary bondage to sin. If you're still enslaved to sin, as though there is nothing you could do to stop it, then Jesus did not save you. You don't have to remain a fool, and he doesn't want you to.    

Now, someone might respond to these claims of mine by suggesting that Jesus expects perfection from us. And to that I respond, "No". That, to me, seems like another excuse to rationalize away one's need to "sin no more." The truth revealed in Scripture is that Jesus expects us to grow up. Jesus expects all of his children to increase in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man, just as he did (Luke 2:52). If we have true solidarity with him, that's what our lives ought to look like. Once "saved" from bondage to sin, we mature from childish ways to mature, godly ways. Jesus expects us to become equipped for the work of ministering to other sinners in need of godliness, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of "mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes" (Ephesians 4:12-14).














Monday, September 5, 2016

Athletes of Piety







Other writers of historical works have confined themselves to the written tradition of victories in wars, of triumphs over enemies, of the exploits of generals and the valour of soldiers, men stained with blood and with countless murders for the sake of children and country and other possessions; but it is wars most peaceful, waged for the very peace of the soul, and men who therein have been valiant for truth rather than for country, and for piety rather than for their dear ones, that our record of those who order their lives according to God will inscribe on everlasting monuments: it is the struggles of the athletes of piety and their valour which braved so much, trophies won from demons, and victories against unseen adversaries, and the crowns at the end of all, that it will proclaim for everlasting remembrance.1



1. Eusebius, Historia Ecclesiastica, 5.praef.3-4; cited in Aaron P. Johnson, Eusebius: Understanding Classics (New York, NY: L.B. Taurus & Co. Ltd.; 2014) pp. 100-101

















Wednesday, August 24, 2016

From Milwaukee






AP photo/ Jeffrey Phelps



Here is a link to an article I wrote for the Theopolis Institute about the 2016 Milwaukee riots. The link to that article can be found here.










Thursday, August 11, 2016

What Removes the Veil (A homily for Transfiguration Sunday, Year C)







Exod 34:29-35
2 Cor 3:12-4:2
Year C, last Sunday of Epiphany

Do you remember the story of the Ten Commandments and the golden calf incident? Do you also remember what happens at the very end of that story? Another way of asking the same thing is, do you remember how the story of the Ten Commandments ends? What happens at the very end of that story? It's strange, it's mysterious, and the apostle Paul thought it was so important that he wrote about it in his second epistle to the church in Corinth.

Now do you remember? 

That's right. The face of Moses shines and he veils his face when confronted by the people of Israel.

This is how the story unfolds: Immediately after the golden calf incident, God told Moses that he would no longer lead the people of Israel into the promised land—God would NOT go with them—and God's reason for that was because, even though God has just delivered them from Egypt with great signs and wonders, those people were still incredibly stubborn and rebellious. They had not yet faced the reality that the God delivering them is the Creator of all things. He alone is supreme. He is the Most High God, who rules over all things.

Unfortunately, after the golden calf incident, In the eyes of the people, the God who just delivered them wasn't much different than the gods of other nations. 

After God tells Moses that He won't be going with the people into the promised land, Moses pleads with God to go with them somehow. It is only after pleading multiple times, that the Lord relents and finally promises to send His glory among the Israelites. But the glory of God that was going to be among them was the glory reflected in the face of Moses himself. The Lord passed in glory before Moses, and then Moses went down from the mountain with the Ten Commandments again, shining with the glory of God—his face shining like the sun.

Here is where Paul picks up the story. 

The Apostle Paul understood that Moses veiled his face from the people of Israel because their hearts were still hardened against God. They didn't even realize that they broke God's covenant, and that the glory of God's covenant with them was already fading away. 

When Moses came down from the mountain a second time, he came down to tell the people that God's covenant with them was fading away, but because of his pleading on their behalf, God was willing to renew His covenant with them. It is at that time when Moses veils his face so that the stubborn and rebellious people of that generation could not see the end of encountering God's glory—and die in the wilderness as a result. As long as the people had hardened minds and hearts, they could not dwell in the glorious presence of God. The veil over Moses' face was the only thing protecting them, so that God could still dwell among them and lead them into the promised land.

Now, fast forward to the days of Jesus and his apostles

Paul tells us that with the incarnation of God, with Jesus coming into this world, the veil which covered God's glory is lifted. No Israelite in Jesus's day could encounter Jesus and not see the glory of God dwelling among them. This is why Paul also tells us that when The Jews of his day read the Books of Moses, a veil rests over their hearts and minds. They choose not to see the glory of God in Jesus, or even among His people. They choose not to be judged, or saved, by Jesus. When drawing upon a clear description of Israel at Sinai, Paul teaches that many Jews in his own generation were just as stubborn and rebellious as the Jews in Moses' day, with the golden calf incident. 

In Paul's day, many of his own generation refused to believe that Jesus was different than the gods of other nations. Like Israel in the wilderness, they refused to believe that God had begun a new and greater Exodus with Jesus. They refused to believe the city of Jerusalem with its corrupt priesthood and corrupt leadership had become a new and greater Egypt. They refused to believe that Jesus was the greater Moses, delivering them from bondage to their stubborn and sin-filled ways. Their refusal to gaze into the glory of God in Jesus was a very big problem, and it is still a problem for people today.

What does Paul teach about solving this big problem?

What would it take for the veil to be removed from the minds of stubborn and rebellious people? 

What would it have taken for Moses to remove his veil, so the glory of God could dwell safely among the people again?

Paul gives us the answer in our reading tonight. 

Paul tells us that "turning" (i.e. repentance) is what removes the veil (v. 16).  When we encounter the living and true God, and He makes His presence known to us, the proper response of all of us should always be repentance.  Repentance is the desire to return to God—a movement of love and trust toward Him. It is only by turning to the Lord that the veil over our sinful, stubborn minds is removed. Because our Lord, Jesus, is the “Spirit” who brings liberty (v. 17), when we turn to Him, then we can be face-to-face with God’s glory and our hearts and minds can be renewed (cf. 4:4-6). 

All of this talk about faces glowing with the glory of God might sound strange and mysterious, but it's meaning is still very practical for us today. When we encounter the living and true God, and we turn toward Him (instead of the opposite—directing our thoughts and emotions away from Him or against Him, refusing to love and trust Him), the Spirit of God liberates us and transforms us to become more like Him; The Spirit of God transforms us to become more and more godly. The Spirit of God helps us share a family resemblance with him.

As a result of that transformation, we see many things in this world change. We see people "living patient, productive, loving lives. We see parents loving children and children loving parents. We see Husbands loving wives and wives showing loving respect for their husbands. We see Servants and masters working in mutual respect and concern. We see people producing the fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control."1 

In short, we see people living like Jesus, fulfilling God's Law.


It is not enough to acknowledge sins and confess them. We must also turn to the Lord for change in life. When we turn to the Lord, the veil over our heart and mind is removed. The Spirit of the Lord is then given so that we can become fully human, with the glory of God dwelling among us.


















1. A couple insights in this post, but especially this list of ways which people are transformed by the Spirit of God, come directly from Peter Leithart. https://theopolisinstitute.com/seven-spirits/s

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Called to Freedom (A Meditation for Ordinary Time, Proper 8)




Called to Freedom 
(A Meditation for Ordinary Time, Proper 8, Year C, II)
Galatians 5:1, 13-25





Virtually every aspect of life among ancient cultures in biblical times was centered around a nation's own temple and it's god. All people of all ancient nations thought this way.

To have communion with the gods, so it was thought, you needed a house for your God to dwell in. And once your God had taken up residency among you and your people, it claimed that territory as its own, and it claimed ownership of everyone within it. Your God reigned as lord over your tribal territory, and even over your household. And if you wanted to stay in the land your god gave you, if you wanted favorable provisions in life from the hand of your god, you needed to become its household slave.  Being a slave of a king or a god wasn't a bad thing, by the way. It was, in fact, a highly privileged position to be in.

But just because your god dwelled among you and your people, that did not mean everyone else around you or your people had direct access to your god. In order for your neighbors to have access to this special relationship with your god, they needed to submit to the laws of their temple, which were the laws of their gods. The laws of their gods were the sacramental tapestry holding all of ancient social order together. 

This is the background of the "slavery" imagery which Paul uses throughout his letter to the Galatian Christians, except here, in chapter 5, we learn that there is one catch to Paul's rhetoric: with the coming of Israel's messiah, Jesus Christ had set all Christians free from such slavery.

Another important bit of background information worth remembering is that when Paul writes to the Galatian Christians, he is condemning specific types of "false-brothers" secretly planted among them, who are trying to take away their liberty in Christ (2:4). Paul is not condemning obedience to "laws" or "commandments" in the abstract. Paul is only condemning the patterns of life exhibited by such "false-brothers" who want to enslave Christians under the Law taught in Judaism (of which he, Paul, used to be an "advanced" and zealous advocate; 1:13-14). The "false-brothers" of Judaism were those who had fellowship with Christians but still insisted upon life under the law taught within Judaism, the law which centralized the liturgical and social structures of the old covenant temple, and separated Jews and Gentiles (and others) from direct access to God. 

Paul condemns the law under first century Judaism, not because the old covenant law per se was intrinsically "bad," but because of two other significant reasons. First, Paul condemned the law under Judaism because in the first century, the application of God's "Law" had become incredibly corrupt, abusive, and manipulative—and all for the sake of building up an empire lead by corrupt Jewish authorities, whom Jesus also condemned. Secondarily, Paul condemns the law under Judaism because Jesus came and replaced that first century Jewish temple with the temple of his body, making all of God's laws fulfilled and centralized in Christ's Body.

So when Paul spoke of Christ "freeing" the Galatian Christians "for the sake of freedom," telling them to submit to Christ and not to a yoke of slavery, his concern was very specific. Certain Jews had crept into the Christian church masquerading as disciples of God, but instead of promoting the work of God's Spirit in building his new temple, they were persuading Gentiles to enslave themselves to the old covenant temple and the laws of Jewish authorities in Jerusalem. They taught that in order to be a slave of God's house—which, again, was a highly privileged position to be in—you had to yoke yourself to the whole system of Jewish Law, which was centralized in their temple within Jerusalem.

In other words, the desire of these "false-brothers" was to make disciples of Judaism, not disciples of Jesus. Keep in mind, also,  that it was John the Baptist and Jesus who first spoke out about the corruption of Judaism and God's condemnation of their entire religious system. First century Judaism, as Paul understood best, was a yoke of slavery requiring obedience to uniquely Jewish laws as an entrance point into life and communion with God. But when God came down to earth in flesh and lived among men in the flesh, that changed everything about the relationship between God and men. That crossed a temple boundary enshrined in law which had never been crossed before in ancient history. Through faith in Jesus, Paul knew that the "false-brothers" of the Christian churches were deadly wrong in their understanding of communion with God, and any committed, first century disciple of Judaism was doomed to destruction along with the destruction of their temple (which was destroyed in 70ad). The whole sacramental fabric of Judaism's social order was doomed to die in 70ad via the prophecies of Jesus reaching their fulfillment. Life under the temple-centered mindset of Judaism was of "the flesh," Paul says, and that "lust of the flesh" brings death. Only the Jesus-centered desire of the Christianity was of the Spirit, producing life.

With all of this in mind, it's important to understand why Paul emphasizes "living by the Spirit" in contrast with living "under law." 

Did Paul mean to teach his Christian disciples that the law of God had now become obsolete—that the law of God is no longer a lamp unto our feet and a light for the path they walk on?

I think that if we are studying the letter to Galatians carefully, it's clear that for Paul the Law of God itself as a whole had not become obsolete. It's temple and God's covenant in relation with that temple had become obsolete, but not the law of God itself. Rather, Paul insists, the Law of God is fulfilled in Christ and his body. In Christ, God's Law had become the Wisdom and Spirit of God personified. 

Note carefully how this is evident by what Paul says in verses 13-14: 
For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love be slaves to one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."

In these two verses, Paul not only quotes a portion of God's Law word for word to endorse Christian love (Lev. 19:18), but he seems obligated to reveal such an objective standard for love because it is already well-known that the whole law has been fulfilled in Christ and his Body. Paul's exhortation to love one another would be meaningless if the whole law was not fulfilled by Christians. You shall love your neighbor as yourself, Paul says. You fulfill the whole law, Paul says. And in context, Paul seems to be saying that they ought to do so by the Spirit of the Law, just as Jesus did, and not merely the letter of the Law, as the false-brothers of Judaism did. 

Therefore, it can be safely asserted that Jesus fulfilled the law for us so that we might walk in him, fulfilling the Spirit of the Law to serve one another.

It is precisely because Christ has fulfilled the law that the church also shares in active fulfillment of God's law as well. But Christians ought not to do so by reconstructing society according to the letter of the law. That's what Judaizers did! The Judaizers could not grasp the idea of Jesus replacing their temple in Jerusalem. The holy city of Jerusalem, and it's temple sanctuary was mistakenly believed to be central to their identity with the living and true God, instead of Jesus being central. Likewise, many Christians today mistakenly centralize the Church in their own particular denomination instead of in Christ alone. Even worse, many Christians today have gone beyond the sin of first century Judaism by centralizing themselves individually as the temple of God, instead of committing to the health and well-being of the local, visible church. If you've ever heard a professing Christian say, "I'm spiritual, but not religious," you know what I'm talking about. The fundamental danger of that kind of reasoning is that the life within Jesus' Body (i.e. the baptized body, the Church) is not believed to be integral or necessary for life with Jesus himself. But that's like separating the head (Jesus) and a finger (one's self) from the rest of it's body (the visible, baptized body), and claiming that the finger can live perfectly healthy severed from the body as long as it knows the "head" (Jesus) it belongs with. But life in Christ is more than mere personal belonging to Jesus. It is a mutual belonging and indwelling of all members of the body, including it's head.

So how is it that we, the Church, can actively fulfill the whole law of God, as Paul commends here in Galatians?

Well, as a starting point, I suggest that when Christians today look back at the Law of God in such places like Leviticus 19, we should do our best not to reconstruct that exact system and its relationship to the temple of Jerusalem. Sadly, that is what most fundamentalists today desire (shown most explicitly among dispensational fundamentalists). Instead, Christians today should want to build up the body of Christ—the new covenant temple—with the Spirit of God's Law. Christians are fools if they go to God's law as a blueprint for reconstructing a Christless society. Instead, Christians ought go to God's Law to find Christ in it and to retrieve the fruits of his Spirit taught within it. If God's Law is not used by Christians to construct a Christlike culture, then whatever culture God is building through them cannot and will not ever be godly. Our American Christian culture is suffering greatly today, not because it needs God's law or because it is opposed to God's Law. It suffers because it lacks the Spirit of God's Law.

As the Spirit of God's law in Leviticus 19 teaches us, Christians have a responsibility before Christ to provide for the poor from their own fields. Christians ought not to steal or deal falsely with one another, or lie to each other, tearing apart the social fabric of godly integrity. Moreover, the Spirit of the Law teaches us that we ought not oppress our neighbor, or even rob them by withholding or delaying the wages they worked for—wages Christian employers might owe them. The Spirit of the Law teaches us to care for and treat those who are disabled exceptionally well. They are not to be treated as outcasts, because in Christ they are loved. The Spirit of the Law teaches that we ought to judge justly in civil matters. We ought to avoid the slander of our neighbors, not hating our brothers in the heart, but rather reasoning frankly with them, and not taking vengeance against them or bearing a grudge. Not only is that what the Spirit of Leviticus 19 teaches, but that is also what the Spirit of Jesus taught in his Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5:21-26, 33-42). The Sermon on the Mount is what living by the Spirit of Leviticus 19 looks like—it looks like the Law of the Greater Moses, Jesus Christ and the commandments he gave.

One last thing about Paul's letter to the Galatians is worth noting carefully.

Remember, Paul has the Judaizers of Galatia in mind when he quotes a portion of God's law as a standard for the whole of Christian love. Paul is not opposed to a Christian transfiguration of God's Law, because it is Christ-centered; and because it is Christ-centered, it is also Christian-Church centered. Paul (just as much as Jesus) was opposed to the way the Judaizing system of God's "Law" promoted "legal" corruption and wicked behavior, contrary to the works of God's Spirit. Throughout Paul's letter he describes the disciples of Judaism as "fleshly" and deadly, not spiritual and alive.

This is why, toward the end of the letter which we read, Paul gives a long list of unspiritual, ungodly behavior. The works of "the flesh" are found in Gal. 5:19—21. Interestingly, God's Law has something to say about all of those behavioral categories, and the Spirit of God's Law condemns and transfigures such behavior. For, Paul says, those who belong to Christ Jesus have "crucified the flesh" with such lusts and passions (5:24).

Instead of standing condemned by God's Law, the Spirit of God's law revives us, granting Christians the liberty to produce the fruits of God's Spirit. What are those fruits? Galatians 5:22—23 provides a list for us. Yet notice carefully, again, how Paul concludes his list of Spiritual fruits. He says that against such Spiritually fruitful behavior "there is no law."

What Law is Paul referring to? I would contend (along with many other Christians in history) that Paul is referring to the very well-known law—the same Law that condemned the listed "fleshly" behavior in the previous three verses. From this, we can conclude that there is no law of God which stands against the fruitful behavior of Christ's Spirit within a believer. And if we behave by the Spirit, we are not merely obeying laws of God, as those of first century Judaism who did so to build up their own tribe. Instead, the Spirit of God gives us liberty to fulfill God's Law in various ways. And as the Church is filled-full with the Spirit of God's Law, the world grows into what God wants His Temple to look like. It looks godly. It looks like our God and our King, Jesus.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.



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Almighty God, you have built your Church upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone: Grant us so to be joined together in unity of the Spirit by their teaching, that we may be made a holy temple acceptable to you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.