Finding Meaning

The purpose of this post will be to briefly explore the usefulness of symbolism, parallelism, and literary structures in divine revelation.

Why do some specific words or phrases mean different things in different contexts? To an ordinary person, this may seem like an odd question. I confess that my own interest is due to something Gordon Clark once wrote as well as impressions I've gotten through his writings:

Suppose the word man had ten different meanings: It would be possible to invent ten different terms so that each term would stand for a single meaning, and once more the predicate and the assertion as a whole would be definite. If, however, terms had an infinite number of meanings, then all reasoning would come to an end. For if a word is to convey a significance, it must not only mean something, it must also not mean something. If it had all the meanings of all the terms in the dictionary, it would be useless in speech. Therefore, if terms had an infinite number of meanings, no term would have one meaning; and not to have one meaning is to have no meaning; but if words have no meaning, it is impossible to argue with other people or even to reason privately with oneself. If we do not think one thing, we think nothing; but if we can think of one thing, then we can assign to it a single unambiguous term. (Thales to Dewey, 2000, pgs. 87-89)

Clark was quite right that words must not mean something in order to mean something definite. But the part in bold seems to conflict with what he noted elsewhere: "…all languages have words with more than one meaning and often enough use the two meanings in one sentence" (Commentaries on Pauline Epistles, 2005, pg. 90). Writings by other Scripturalists even seem to have followed Clark's suggestions about "words" or "terms" (again, the part in bold) and applied it to sentences (link).

Perhaps Clark just meant, in Thales to Dewey, that words must mean something definite, for he didn't deny double entendres, metaphors, or the like. In any case, along these lines is the more important thought I want to stress: Clark also seems right in suggesting it possible to assign to one thought a single word or term that would convey meaning. But clearly, God did not do that in Scripture. 

Symbolism and parallelism abounds in God's word (link, link, link). Most Christians know that a lamb can symbolize Christ, even if they do not understand that the temple can symbolize the world or that a tree can symbolize a man. Most Christians also understand the following parallelism: just as Christ suffered unto glory, so too the pattern of the Christian life is to share in His suffering unto the partaking of His glory (1 Peter 4:13, 5:1). There is so much more depth to be found than this, as fundamental and important as it is (Hebrews 5:11ff.), but the main point is that some divinely revealed words have a different referent depending on different contexts.

I think we see symbols and literary parallelisms in Scripture because there are overlaps in functions, characteristics, or purposes of the realities in question. Symbols and literary parallelisms - rhetorical, structural, typological, etc. - are important because they helps us to discern the rhythms in and of history and its contents. What we learn from symbols and parallels, we then are to our apply lives with wisdom. 

Of course, this is not meant to suggest that any two realities considered in symbolism or parallel are of the same nature. Some men are called "elohim" in Scripture (Psalm 82:6-8), for example, not because such men are divine. Rather, these men image God in a particular way (as "judges") that extends beyond that of all people (Genesis 1:26-27). There is a parallel function, although the function is executed on a different scale.

Likewise, a rock is strong and God is strong: in both statements, "strong" must have some overlap in meaning for the symbolic statement that "The Lord is my rock" to be meaningful (Psalm 18:2). Of course, there is also is a disanalogy between the way in which a rock is strong and the way in which God is strong, and no one would confuse the nature of a rock with the nature of God. There is a commonality in attributing the characteristic to both subjects, although the manner in which the characteristic is exemplified will differ.

In a recent post (link), I mentioned that the Word-Christ, word-Scripture, and word-church serve coordinate functions to meet a common purpose. These too are not ontologically univocal, nor do they even have the same function or role in bringing about one's sanctification. Yet that each of these realities is referred to as a "word" indicates something in which they have something in common: each reveals God, and sanctification presupposes God's being revealed in one's life. The church-word speaks the truth of the word-Scriptures about the Word-Christ. These are so integrated in common purpose that common characteristics are also [symbolically!] attributed to them (e.g. "light").

Turning to literary structures, chiasmus (a-b-b'-a' communications), for example, are common occurrences in Scripture (link). These also reflect realities, and they are more readily ascertained and expressible due to synonyms (which wouldn't exist if we assigned to each thought a single word). For example, in the morning, we get out of bed, brush our teeth, eat, and drive to work. We then drive home, eat, brush our teeth, and go to bed in the evening. Almost every day of our lives, we live chiastically. Or take our conversions:

A - ethical presentation of the gospel to us, yet we are unable to obey it

B - metaphysical regeneration of us by the indwelling of the Spirit

C - our epistemological foundation becomes [or is implicitly understood to be] divine revelation

B' - we metaphysically understand ourselves in relation to God as sinners in need of salvation

A' - we ethically understand and obey God by faith and subsequent works 

Now, when we convert, we may not consciously submit that divine revelation is our epistemic foundation even though we subconsciously will act that way due to the indwelling of the Spirit. But that metaphysical change will transform our beliefs and actions in implicit submission to what divine revelation has to say. That is, we will - despite our continual need to put sin to death in our lives until we ourselves undergo death and resurrection - implicitly accept divine revelation as epistemologically foundational.

A mature awareness of our transformed epistemology - that is, when we consciously set the self-authenticating revelation of God (the extant extent of which is, for us, codified in Scripture) as our epistemological foundation - will lead to a mature knowledge and defense of the metaphysical and ethical transformations that have already occurred in us.

What this chiasm enables us to see more clearly is the relationship between epistemology and metaphysics. Our knowledge is caused, not self-originated. Indeed, there are good arguments for why our knowledge cannot be self-originated (link, link). Metaphysics precedes epistemology in the order of being. Metaphysical regeneration logically precedes epistemological transformation. 

That being said, epistemology logically precedes (or at least has equally primacy with) metaphysics in the order of knowing, for it is only from a correct epistemological foundation that one is able to know metaphysical truths (including the foundation itself, or how one came to know it in the order of his being).

In sum, because symbols, parallels, and structures are patterns in reality, they are reflected in divine revelation. These help us to find meaning in our lives. We ourselves are images of God (Genesis 1:26-27). Thus, as words of God (Revelation 19:9), we can only find meaning in relating ourselves to the Word of God (Christ, Revelation 19:9) by structuring our lives according to the word of God (Scripture, Revelation 22:7).

"Sound" Theology: Parallelisms and the Word[s] of God

There is a consistent parallelism - not only in the rhetoric of Scripture but also in history - in which and in that we find that the teleological functions of the Word of God, word of God, and words of God consistently coordinate. The writers of the New Testament progressively unfold this mystery of these forms of divine "revelation." Christ is the Word of God (John 1:1). Scripture is the word of God (2 Timothy 3:16). Christians are the words of God (Revelation 19:9). 

God's revealed Word, Christ, is the way, truth and life (John 1:18, 14:6, 1 John 1). God's revealed word, Scripture, is the way, truth, and life (Psalm 119:9, 25, 160). This Word and word go hand in hand, because by the latter we are saved by faith in the former (Romans 10:14-17). Indeed, the church itself preaches the latter about the former such that Christians likewise are said to be lights to the world (Matthews 5:14), pillars of truth (1 Timothy 3:15), and envoys of life (Proverbs 13:17). Christians too are God's revealed words, for the church functions as His voice who thunder the truth of the word-Scriptures about the Word-Christ in history (Revelation 19:6-8). 

History itself is the song of the Lord, and we are His instruments (Acts 9:15, 1 Corinthians 14:6-7). He is the true Choirmaster, and Scripture is the sheet music that sets the tone for our lives that are to be lived in righteousness after the pattern of the Word (2 Timothy 1:13). It is no wonder that we see typological, structural, and thematic patterns in Scripture. It is no wonder we see parallels between Christology, ecclesiology, anthropology, cosmology, and so forth (link, link, link). These rhythms depict reality: our own, individual lives are microsonic words in the macrosonic eternal decree of God. The sound of one life in Christ may seem small when compared to the scale of history, but even one life can reverberate and echo in history through its vibrations in the lives one touches. 

Even when we present ourselves as instruments of unrighteousness (Romans 6:13), God's song of history doesn't skip a beat. Every note and word has its place. The music plays out exactly as God orchestrated (Isaiah 55:11) and crescendos at the consummation of the new creation, a new stanza that He inaugurated by the death and resurrection of His Word (Revelation 5:9ff.).

One often hears of people trying to "find their voice." Sanctification is the process by which the church and her members find their voice in history. We become true words of God whose voices the Spirit has, through Scripture, conformed to the sound of the Word. Again we see a coordinated parallel between the "Word" of God in Whom men are sanctified (1 Corinthians 1:30) and the "word[s]" of God through whose ministries (Romans 15:16) of the "word" of truth (John 17:17) men are, by the unifying power of the Spirit, sanctified.

As we become fully assured and aware of who we are in Christ, we grow more bold to become voices in the world, testifying of the Word-Christ by the truth of the word-Scriptures (1 Thessalonians 1:8). Thereby, just as the Holy Spirit sounded out God's word through the apostles and prophets, He too may now sound Christ into the sinner, making the deaf man hear and beginning in him the same work of new creation - albeit on a smaller scale - that will also be completed when the Word will come again (Philippians 1:6).

That is, just as this Word created all things (John 1:1-3) by divine speech, so too the word-bride of this Word-husband was created through His divine speech of Scripture and its gospel about His work for us. In thanks, the church sings when it is able to be helper to her Head in fruitfully bearing many children by the word of this gospel (Isaiah 54, Galatians 4:26-27). 

The individual voices within the church may have different pitches. The individual instruments within the church may be of a different set of strings. But they sing as one choir with one voice the same song, and in their harmony, the melody is accentuated (cf. 1 Corinthians 12:12ff.). When we make a joyful noise to the Lord, He hears us all (Psalm 100).

The Day Draws Near

Hebrews 10:24-25 And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.

As I was listening to Dr. Masters preach at our church yesterday on Hebrews 10:19-25 (link), I was drawn, so to speak, to the last phrase: you see the Day drawing near. 

At first glance, I supposed the reference was to when an event would happen. The Day "drawing near" would then mean that the readers should keep in mind a future, destined event that would become a present one. Similar to the way in which Paul writes that salvation is nearer to us than when we first believed and then draws out the inference that we ought to remain awake and watchful (link), the author of Hebrews would then similarly be exhorting his readers to stir up one another to love and good works, meeting together as the means by which such takes place. 

If true, one could think about what event might be in view, like the destruction of Jerusalem or eschatological Parousia. In favor of the former, the vanishing of the old covenantal (8:13) is certainly a concern of the book, and the destruction of the second temple was a sort of visible seal of judgment of the obsolescence of that covenant. Christians were being persecuted by the Jews, and so the author's call that they should not shrink back (10:39) or neglect to meet was a timely injunction. His timely injunction is matched by his timely encouragement. The author would be following his own advice in stirring up his audience to love and good works. [Incidentally, this would suggest Hebrews was written well before 70 A.D.]

On the other hand, I don't think we need to pit one interpretation against another. The Bible depicts many pictures of our salvation, each of which has been drawn by God in the course of history. Even if the above is true, history is rhythmic. The judgment of Jerusalem was typological of the final judgment, when all of God's enemies will experience fearful punishment. Peter wrote that Christians in every age should pattern their lives accordingly (2 Peter 3).

Peter also wrote that God's word is sometimes difficult. The author of Hebrews differentiates between basic and mature principles of the oracles of God (Hebrews 5). Let's face it: God's word is sometimes vague. Why? Well, one benefit is that in order to understand the whole counsel of God, the reader has to actively meditate on the word, not just passively receive it. Jacob wrestled with God while day had not yet broken and prevailed, receiving a thigh wound and a new name (Genesis 32). We wrestle with God through learning to wield the sword of His word while "Day" has yet to break. When Day does break, will we have prevailed? Will we receive blessing? Though we may limp, will we be named Christians after the name written on the thigh of the sword-wielding King of kings and Lord of lords (Revelation 19:16), Jesus Christ? Holding fast until (or "in"?) the Day is a theme of Hebrews (Hebrews 3-4, 10).

Another benefit of vagueness is versatility. Thus far, this post has used the word "draw" in four or five different ways: I was "drawn" or attracted to God's word. We can "draw" or figuratively pull out inferences from God's word as drawing water from a well. God's word itself "draws" or illustrates salvation in multiple, picturesque stories. A day can figuratively "draw" closer in that there is less and less time until a destined event will occur. People, too, can "draw" near to one another (spatially or spiritually), which I will to return in a moment. The point here is just that we can say more with fewer words: the disciples were drawn to Jesus. Do I mean that they were attracted to Him, that they got nearer to Him in a spatial sense, or that someone or something pulled them toward Jesus? My statement isn't an either/or, it's all of the above: The Father drew (pulled) the disciples to Jesus by making them drawn (attracted) to Jesus, and therefore they were drawn (spatially) to Jesus.

That is what struck me about the passage in Hebrews: the Day is not just a time, He is a person. More than any other New Testament book, it is the concern of the author to argue it is possible and important for his readers to draw near to God (4:16, 7:19, 25, 10:1, 22, 11:6). When 10:25 uses the same language, then, we should see "the Day" not only (or even principally) as a reference to when an event will come but also who is coming. Christ is the Day. Our persons ought to draw near to Him, not draw back from Him, for His person is inevitably drawing nearer to us, whether that be to fearful judgment or blessing. Ready or not, here He comes.

When Christ spoke to Nicodemus at night (John 3:2), it had not dawned on Him that he was witnessing the Day drawing near for the first time. We often think of daybreak as when we can begin to see one another face to face. We forget that Light can be blinding (cf. Acts 9, cf. John 12:40). Daybreak was in the presence of Nicodemus, yet he was so used to the shadowy darkness of the old covenant that the Light actually blinded him from seeing the kingdom of God (John 3:3). 

How much more should we who have been born of God hold fast, not shrinking back or seeking to hide ourselves from the [second] coming of the Day-light, as if darkness can allow us to perpetually keep evil works secret (John 3:19-21). The Light came into the world once before (John 1). Once more will He return, and then there will no longer be any cover of night (Revelation 21). Christians ought not to draw back, as the author of Hebrews said was the way of those who, to their own destruction, wished to remain under the terms of the old covenant. 

Because our hope and faith in Christ’s return unites us to Him, we are enabled to enter the same holy places He entered (Hebrews 10:19). Our objective grounds for confidence gives us subjective reason for full assurance (10:22). All that remains for us to do is consider how to love and do good works for one another (10:24), knowing that all works will be brought to the light of Day (10:25). Joshua may not given the people rest, but God has "spoken of another Day later on" (Hebrews 4:8) in whom we who have believed enter rest: His Son, the radiance of His glory (Hebrews 1:2-3, 4:3).

Rhetorical criticism

Recently, Steve Matthews wrote a series of articles on his time at Knox Seminary (link), a follow-up to his 2008 book, "Imagining a Vain Thing." The subject of his book is a controversy surrounding then professor Warren Gage. I've recently been reading through Warren Gage's works which I find, on the whole, to be quite insightful. I can see some of the points Matthews makes in his criticisms here and elsewhere (link), but I also think he is, for whatever reason, harsh in his conclusions. Mainly, while Matthews does not believe that Gage is a Christian, from what I have read, Gage consistently aims to defend Reformed soteriology.

What I do want to do in this post is note a potentially useful apologetic method when arguing about textual variants and canonicity. Gage refers to this method as "rhetorical criticism." Rhetorical criticism involves considering structural or thematic issues within a text when attempting to argue for or against given variants. In this post, I'll just be dealing with the former. It is for this reason I bring up the aforementioned criticisms by Matthews. Consider one of Matthews' remarks:

...even if Gage were to establish his case for the existence of chiastic structure in John and Revelation and for intertextuality between these two books, precisely no logically valid doctrinal conclusions could be drawn from it. One can imagine and intuit anything he wants from a literary pattern. If Gage claims to divine a particular meaning from the use of chiastic structure in the Biblical text, a thousand others can draw a thousand different conclusions, and all of them will be just as legitimate as those intuited by Gage. For that reason, literary patterns do not and cannot furnish us with knowledge... nothing valid can be inferred from literary patterns... (link)

Maybe Matthews did not intend his statements to be read this way, but if he did, a blanket statement to the effect that a structure or order embedded in a book or books isn't meaningful or useful strikes me as narrow-minded. It's also quite interesting when compared with statements made by other TrinityFoundation authors about the meaningfulness or usefulness of logical principles being embedded throughout Scripture. Although it's possible Matthews would not agree with these authors, I doubt it, especially given that Matthews seems to contradict himself when he later writes, "chiastic structure is simply a technique ancient authors used to organize their material." I could be wrong about what Matthews is getting at in his article and book, but is that not an inference he thinks would be valid?

In any case, at the very least, surely Christians ought to at least be able to appreciate the beauty in a design or pattern. Noting a particular example of a pattern and being a bit awe-struck isn't an inappropriate reaction. Frankly, the patterns Gage recognizes have the potential to be just as convicting as, say, Clark's ability to reduce non-Christian views to absurdity. Both are plausible in their intention to provide a gracious occasion for belief in redemptive, revealed truths.

Structural order in particular has the plausible effect of drawing one's attention in a certain way. For instance, when I see the chiastic structure inherent in the Flood narrative (link), my attention is drawn to the truth that God remembered Noah and the creatures in the ark. That's the pivot point of the specified structure. Is that an invalid inference? No. There is a structure. The structure "ascends" to a certain point and, upon reaching that point, it correspondingly "descends." Is this to say that the pivot point is any more true than the bookends of it? Of course not. That was never in question. But a literary as well as logical structure underlies the narrative.

Yet another consideration is that a belief needn't be validly derived in order to be useful - indeed, to even be known, as in the case of foundational or externally justified beliefs. Anyone who agrees with Clark's philosophy of science can at least agree with the first half of the above. If I think a baseball is flying towards my face, I'm not going to take my time to reason out whether or not I should duck or block it with my glove. I'm going to do one or the other! I didn't need to carefully lay out a number of premises in order for my quickly formed belief that "I really, really would prefer to duck or block this baseball to avoid being hit in the face" to be highly useful towards a self-preserving course of action.

Now, keeping these and preliminary points in my post on textual criticism in mind (link), let's turn to consideration of how rhetorical criticism in the form of a biblical text's structure might be able to provide a Christian apologist with an alternative avenue by which he can argue for or against certain textual variants. A case study can be found in Gage's book, "A Literary Guide to the Life of Christ in Matthew, Mark, and Luke-Acts," in which Gage argues that the "longer" ending of Mark is canonically authentic.

To begin, I don't see anything in Mark 16:9-20 which is logically incoherent with the rest of the canon of special divine revelation. So it passes the " logical coherence test," if you can call it that (since there is no live possibility of divine revelation actually failing any rigid "test" like that). Yet there seemingly are no preconditions for knowledge given in Mark 16:9-20 which are not given elsewhere, so from an apologetic standpoint, both positions are defensible in that respect.

Next, Gage defines what he calls "deltaforms" throughout Mark. Basically, these are pivot points in Mark around which a truth is exemplified or expounded in different contexts roughly equidistant from the pivot point. It's very complex and very beautiful. I will give a short example to clarify what he means:

Mark 1:24 I (the demon) know who You are, the Holy One of God!
Mark 8:27 He asked His disciples, "Whom do men say that I am?"
Mark 14:61 Again the high priest asked Him, "Are You the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?"

The pivot point is the middle verse, both other verses being 288 verses away from it. The bookends both inform or relate to the pivot point. Another example:

Mark 1:10-11 And immediately as He came up out of the water, the heavens were rent, and the Spirit descended upon Him like a dove. And there was a voice from heaven, ‘You are My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased'
Mark 9:7 And there was a cloud that overshadowed them: and a voice came out of the cloud, saying, ‘This is My beloved Son. Hear Him!’
Mark 15:37-39 And Jesus cried out with a loud voice, and gave up the spirit. And the veil of the temple was rent in two from top to bottom. And the centurion … said, ‘Truly this Man was the Son of God’

Approximately 320 verses from the pivot point (Mark 9:7), in which the Father's voice expresses that Christ is His Son, we find bookends. These bookends express the same truth, a truth also expressed by voices which speak that Jesus is the Son whose baptism rent heaven and whose baptism-crucifixion rent the temple veil.

The structural argument for the "longer" ending of Mark, then, is that their are pivot verses or deltaforms which extend to this longer ending. We can suspect that there is such a pivot or deltaform when we see textual echoes. Mark 16:17-18 echoes Mark 6:13-14. Mark 11:15 lies roughly between those verses:

Mark 6:13-14 And they were casting out many demons and were anointing with oil many sick and healing them. And King Herod heard of it, for His name had become well known
Mark 11:15 And they came to Jerusalem. And he entered the temple and began to cast out those who were buying and selling in the temple, and overturned the tables of the moneychangers and seats of those who were selling doves
Mark 16:17-18 [I]n My name they will cast out demons … they will lay hands on the sick, and they will recover

Demons are cast out and the sick are healed by Jesus' name in both the front and back side bookend passages. Gage notes that in driving out the moneychangers at the pivot point, Jesus also "performed a sort of exorcism on the temple." He further notes that Mark 11:15 can function as a pivot point for other "bookend" passages in Mark, like 6:12 and 16:20, 10:17-18 and 12:32, and a dozen or so others.

Gage finishes his structural discussion by observing "23 separate deltaform structures that include correspondences extending into the longer Markan ending." In other words, sections in the longer ending of Mark are at least 23 times anchored to earlier bookend passages by means of a pivot point, as in the above examples. In fact, some of these sections in the longer ending are found to be "back" side bookends for more than one pivot point in Mark, meaning that these sections are anchored to multiple earlier, "front" side bookend passages, depending upon which pivot point one wishes to consider.

Now, given this information, I can anticipate a few replies. Matthews or others could argue that while a logical structure must necessarily be embedded in the text of Scripture in order for it to qualify as divine revelation, an ordered structure of a different variety - chiastic, deltaformic, etc. - is not. Therefore, an argument might be given that Scripture does not explicitly identify any such order of the latter variety, so they cannot be known.

But I believe would miss the point. Yes, for all we know, God could have revealed Himself in any number of ways. But this would equally apply to the actual content of divine revelation as well as its structure. To be saved, to know anything, it is not necessary that I know Jesus wept and was deeply moved by Lazarus' death. Yet because this contingent truth has been revealed, I can know it. Likewise, while an ordered structure of a text may not be necessary for me to be saved or know anything, if there is a structure, I can know it. Contingent divine revelation is just as knowable as necessary divine revelation; anything being divinely revealed is sufficient for us to know it.

The other reply I can anticipate is that one could argue that just because an ordered structure can appear to extend to the longer ending of Mark, such does not prove that the longer ending of Mark is divinely revealed. While true, this would also miss the point. As I mentioned in a post on textual criticism (link):

...while I think the goal of the textual critic shouldn't be to collect texts, compare and contrast them, and use that as an evidentiary basis to infer or reason to what has been specially divinely revealed, there certainly would be use in disposing ourselves and others to a causal process which tracks truth about what has been specially divinely revealed and codified in physical media - in this case, texts. So one function of textual criticism could lie in its capability to cause externalist knowledge of special divine revelation. In any case, there is certainly some apologetic role textual criticism may play within one's worldview, so long as it is remembered that apologetics is subservient to and in fact derives from one's epistemology.

True, rhetorical criticism cannot prove something has been divinely revealed. Then again, nothing can prove that, so such a criticism is fundamentally flawed and fails to acknowledge the practical means and purpose of apologetics.

Fuzzy Language

From pgs. 205-206 of A Christian View of Men and Things:

Now, any given word must signify one thing, or a finite number of things, or an infinite number of things. If the word has a finite number of meanings, then it would be possible to invent a name for each meaning, so that all words would have a single meaning. But if each word has an infinite number of meanings, reasoning and conversation have become impossible, because not to have one meaning is to have no meaning. But if a word has a meaning, the object cannot be both man and not-man. If the skeptic attempt to avoid the arguments, he might do so by saying nothing. In this case, however, there is no skeptical theory awaiting refutation. Or he might accuse Aristotle of begging the question by using the law of contradiction. But, then, if he says this, he has said something, and has himself admitted the force of logic.

While true, I don’t think the above is meant to suggest fuzziness in language is entirely useless. In some cases, ambiguity seems preferable. In particular, I’m thinking about instances of justified deception. A Nazi shows up on my door asking if I am hiding Jews. I respond, “there are no Jews here.” Now, through no fault of my own, the Nazi might interpret this to mean I am not hiding any Jews “at all,” whereas I actually meant I am not hiding Jews “in the visible vicinity.” The fuzziness lies in the meaning of “here.” Obviously, I didn’t answer the question the Nazi asked, but then again, I am under no obligation to answer him in the first place.

Now, if there were no ambiguity in language, I obviously could not deceive a Nazi. At best, I could say “search for yourself.” But if he persisted in questioning me, he would come to realize I was intentionally avoiding his question. What would follow I would consider to be less than desirable. So there is good reason for language to be fuzzy, though in an ideal world – a world without Nazis – clarity would be a worthy goal.

When Is or Was Atonement Made?

In his exposition of Hebrews, John Owen said:

The high priest of old made atonement, and typically purged the sins of the people, by sacrificing of beasts according to the appointment of the law, Lev. xvi. This our high priest did by the sacrifice of himself, Isa. liii. 10. Heb. ix. 12. Of the nature of propitiatory or expiatory sacrifices, we must treat at large afterwards. We keep ourselves now to the apostle’s general proposition, expressing briefly the sacerdotal office of Christ, and the excellency of it, in that he really purged our sins, and that by the sacrifice of himself. And this was in and by his death on the cross, with his antecedent preparatory sufferings. Some distinguish between his death and the oblation of himself. This they say he performed in heaven, when as the High Priest of his church, he entered into the holiest not made with hands, whereunto his death was but a preparation. For the slaying of the beast, they say, was not the sacrifice, but the offering of its blood on the altar, and the carrying of it into the holy place. But this utterly overthrows the whole sacrifice of Christ, which indeed is the thing by them aimed at. It is true the slaying of the beast was not the whole sacrifice, but only an essential part of it, as was also the offering of its blood, and the sprinkling of it in the holy place, in the anniversary sacrifice of atonement, but not in any other. And the reason why the whole sacrifice could not consist in any one action, arose merely from the imperfection of the things and persons employed in that work. The priest was one thing, the beast to be sacrificed another, the altar another, the fire and the altar another, the incense added another, each of them limited and designed to its peculiar end, so that the atonement could not be made by any one of them, nor the sacrifice consist in them. But now in this sacrifice of Christ all these meet in one, because of his perfection. He himself was both priest, sacrifice, altar and incense, as we see in our progress, and he perfected his whole sacrifice at once, in and by his death and blood-shedding, as the apostle evidently declares, chap. ix. 12. 14.
 Thus by himself did Christ purge our sins, making an atonement for them by the sacrifice of himself in his death, that they should never be imputed to them that believe.

Recently, I watched a debate between James White and Robert Sungenis on whether the Mass is a propitiatory sacrifice (link). It reminded me of discussions I’ve had with Roman Catholic on this subject. I’ve spoken with Roman Catholics who have pointed out that Leviticus 16:17 says that the sacrificial ritual which [typically] made atonement for the people of Israel was incomplete until the high priest sprinkled the blood of the sacrifice in the holy of holies; Owen agrees. But they would then use this to argue that Christ’s antitypical death on the cross was a necessary but insufficient condition for our atonement, for it is clear in Hebrews 9 that Christ’s entrance into the holy of holies followed His death. You might ask why it would matter so much to Roman Catholics when atonement was or is made. Philip Hughes touches on the seeming answer here:

Another view, which is similar only in incidental respects and which is advocated in the main by Anglo-Catholic and Roman Catholic scholars, is that in the heavenly sanctuary a perpetual sacrificial offering by Christ of Himself takes place. This interpretation is commonly linked with a particular doctrine of eucharistic sacrifice taking place simultaneously here on earth. It is argued, further, on the basis of Hebrews 8:3, according to which “every high priest is appointed to offer gifts and sacrifices,” so that “it is necessary for this priest (the ascended Lord ministering in the true tabernacle, 8:1-2) also to have something to offer,” that if Christ is not offering sacrifice He cannot fulfill the priestly function, and that therefore His role in heaven must be that of a constantly sacrificing priest. Because of the emphatic teaching of the New Testament, and not least the Epistle to the Hebrews, regarding the final once-for-all character of Christ’s atoning sacrifice on the cross, it is hardly open to anyone to suggest that in heaven He offers an atoning sacrifice other than that which He offered on the cross; consequently the explanation is proposed that it is a perpetual offering of this same sacrifice that takes place in the heavenly sanctuary.

Before recently studying the subject, this used to trouble me quite a bit. The doctrinal system Roman Catholics have erected is quite intricate, and to an inexperienced Christian, a knowledgeable Roman Catholic can put a daunting amount of words to paper on pet subjects like the Eucharist.

Now, though, I find it rather ironic that some of the same Roman Catholics who argue for a strict correspondence between type and antitype also argue that the throne on which Christ is seated is an altar. Though this would need to be true for a Eucharistic sacrifice, there is never said to be an altar in the typical holy of holies. Speaking of altars, though, Hebrews does clearly use the Day of Atonement ritual as a lens through which believers can understand the import of Christ’s work:

Hebrews 13:9 Do not be carried away by all sorts of strange teachings. For it is good for the heart to be strengthened by grace, not ritual meals, which have never benefited those who participated in them.

10 We have an altar that those who serve in the tabernacle have no right to eat from. 

11 For the bodies of those animals whose blood the high priest brings into the sanctuary as an offering for sin are burned outside the camp. 

12 Therefore, to sanctify the people by his own blood, Jesus also suffered outside the camp.

While priests were usually apportioned meat to eat from a sin or purification offering, they were precluded from this rite when blood was required to be brought into the tent of meeting to make atonement (Leviticus 6:24-30). Such offerings occurred after the anointed [high (cf. Numbers 35:25)] priest or the congregation had inadvertently sinned (4:7, 18) as well as on the annual Day of Atonement (16:3, 5). Rather than being permitted to eat of these sacrifices, following the priestly ritual, the bodies of the priest’s bull and the congregations’ bull or goat were carried to and burned outside of the camp (4:12, 21, 16:27). 

  

Clearly, Christ’s suffering and abuse which the author of Hebrews intended to parallel to the sin offering is in reference to His sacrificial, bodily, bloody crucifixion, the result of which sanctifies the people. The cross corresponds to the altar of burnt offering on which sacrifices were made under the OT sacrificial system. The cross was outside Jerusalem (John 19:20), the camp.

So Christ’s sacrifice on the cross is the Christian altar from which grace can be conferred to believer-priests who eat from it. Such participation in His sacrifice is through assent to right doctrine. Thus, no spiritual benefit can come from accepting and acting upon strange teachings such as an inordinate or passé emphasis on ritual meals. Those who still serve in earthly tabernacles have forsaken the realized reality for the external shadow which merely typified it. 

This is all very interesting, but we have to be careful not to push parallels too far. There are the obvious examples: Christ needs no sacrifice for Himself, His sacrifice for those whom He functions as a priestly representative is Himself rather than some other living entity, etc. These manifest His superiority, the central theme of Hebrews. After reviewing the rites performed by the high priest under old system in the first section of chapter 9, the author of Hebrews mentions another dissimilarity:

Hebrews 9:11 But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things to come, He entered through the greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to say, not of this creation;

12 and not through the blood of goats and calves, but through His own blood, He entered the holy place once for all, having obtained eternal redemption. 

13 For if the blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkling those who have been defiled sanctify for the cleansing of the flesh,

14 how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God, cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?

15 For this reason He is the mediator of a new covenant, so that, since a death has taken place for the redemption of the transgressions that were committed under the first covenant, those who have been called may receive the promise of the eternal inheritance. 

The dissimilarity with which this post is concerned is that Jesus obtained eternal redemption for those who have been called prior to His entry into the holy of holies. He offered Himself to God, a bloody sacrifice by which our consciences are cleansed so that we may on that account serve God. He made purification for sin by having offered one sacrifice for sins for all time, and He did this before He sat down at God’s right hand (1:3, 10:12). All these passages used aorist participles, on which basis Hughes notes they each convey “the same emphasis on the finality and the pastness of the unique sacrifice of Calvary. Nowhere is there any mention of a sacrifice that is prolonged in some manner or continuous in the heavenly sanctuary.” Even Hebrews 8:3, which Hughes noted Roman Catholics sometimes cite as proof that Christ must sacrifice in heaven or else He would lose His status as High Priest, uses an aorist participle; that is, the meaning is rather against the idea a perpetual [Eucharistic] offering is needed.

Thus, the throne is not an altar or mercy-seat on which Jesus must sprinkle His blood or sit in order to make atonement; Jesus Himself is the propitiatory (compare Romans 3:25 to Hebrews 9:5). That He sits down in the holy of holies – unlike the high priests of old – is conclusive evidence that far from being perpetual or ongoing, His sacrifice was completed, finished, and accepted by the Father upon His death. He now only needs to wait for what He has secured by His work to be fulfilled in due time. For by one offering He has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified:

Aaron certainly carried the sacrificial blood into the holy of holies, but our author deliberately, avoids saying that Christ carried His own blood into the heavenly sanctuary. Even as a symbolic expression this is open to objection. There have been expositors who, pressing the analogy of the Day of Atonement beyond the limits observed by our author, have agreed that the expiatory work of Christ was not completed on the cross — not completed, indeed, until He ascended from earth and “made atonement ‘for us’ in the heavenly holy of holies by the presentation of His efficacious blood.” But while it was necessary under the old covenant for the sacrificial blood first to be shed in the court and then to be brought into the holy of holies, no such division of our Lord’s sacrifice into two phases is envisaged under the new covenant.  When upon the cross He offered up His life to God as a sacrifice for His people's sin, He accomplished in reality what Aaron and his successors performed in type by the twofold act of slaying the victim and presenting its blood in the holy of holies. The title of the Anglican Article XXXI speaks rightly “of the one oblation of Christ finished upon the cross.” (F. F. Bruce, The Epistle to the Hebrews, pg. 213)

RC (and OC) Hermeneutics and New Eve typology

In my last post, I mentioned that RC seems prone to a radical hermeneutic. This is in no case more evident than in Marian dogma. Here is one recent example of RCs falling over themselves looking for any support for the Immaculate Conception.

I have been having a discussion with an OC who, like several RCs with whom I have dialogued on the same topic, argues that Eve was a type of Mary. Now it seems obvious to me that the church, not Mary, is the helpmate to the last Adam in the same way woman/Eve was the helpmate to the first:

//…for the Christ to be the true second Adam, He must have a true bride with which to generate children in His image… Paul regards the church as Christ’s antitypical helpmate in Ephesians 5:21-33. It sounds obvious when one thinks about it, yet the implications are profound. It was no more good that Christ should bring about the goals of the dominion mandate – goals which His work alone could effect – than it was for the first Adam to attempt to do so. The church is woman in Genesis 1-2 (Isaiah 54:5-8, John 3:29), yet a woman who will no longer be seduced by Satan’s temptations (Revelation 21:2, cf. Ezekiel 16, Hosea). Paul’s revelation of the relationship between Christ and the church functions as an explanation of the ways in which they interact: Christ as head, church as body; Christ as authoritative, church as submissive. Believers are not to be static after salvation – in fact, it is not a stretch to suppose co-working with Christ is a means of conformity to His image, as such would reflect what would seem to be an appropriate inter-connectedness of biblical theology.// (link to original post)

Mary wasn't married to Christ. Mary isn't called the mother of believers (Galatians 4:26) - John 19:26-27 is an exceptionally poor proof-text on which to base such a claim. Mary doesn't spread the the gospel to the ends of the earth, fulfilling the garden-temple extension mandate by the believer-temple extension. The church is and does that.

But the bad arguments don't end there. From the website of the OC with whom I was speaking, we find typical OC-RC attempts to connect Mary-Eve:

1. Jesus called Mary "woman"; Adam's wife was called "woman"; therefore, Jesus was indicating Mary was the new Eve.

2. Woman entices Adam to sin on the seventh day of the first creation; Mary entices Jesus to perform a miracle on the seventh day after John proclaimed the Lamb of God had come; therefore, Mary is a better Eve than Mary.

On the other hand:

1. Jesus calls the Samaritan woman at the well "woman" - are RCs and OCs prepared to say that every time Jesus or the prophets address a woman as "woman," a typological connection to Adam's wife is intended? How ridiculous.

2. The numerological argument above may seem air-tight... However, the OC forgot to show Adam's wife tempted Adam on the seventh day, and he forgot to show that the new creation was inaugurated with John's proclamation rather than, say, Christ's crucifixion-baptism which tore the veil symbolizing our separation from God's presence.

At least he didn't argue that Genesis 3:15 referenced Mary (which is an assertion I have unfortunately encountered more than once).

I generally avoid writings posts which can seem to cast a shade over a group of people on the basis of select individuals within the group. But I can't help but note that the above sort of argumentation is representative of every RC and OC who has told me that Mary is the New Eve. This is just my experience, and I do realize that the fact I cannot account for how the adherents to such systems can actually believe what they write apart from the suggestion their system encourages a defensive-minded, radical hermeneutic does not imply there is no other answer, but if nothing else, hopefully some of these poorer arguments will be discarded.

UPDATE: TurretinFan guest hosted the 12/9/10 Dividing Line (link), on which he speaks at length on the RC arguments for Mary-New Eve typology, as well as its implications. He mentions some points I missed;. I had no idea that the RC catechism - a dogma-defining document - explicitly taught Mary is the New Eve. Another good point TFan makes: even if such a typology was valid (and the above should be sufficient to disprove that or, at least, prove that to speak dogmatically on a possible connection is absurdly presumptuous), RCs make eisegetical connections to suit their own doctrines. For instance, some RCs argue that since Eve was born without sin, so too Mary, if she is New Eve, must have been born without sin. But of course, Eve was taken from Adam's body whereas Jesus came from Mary's body, and this goes to show that to speak dogmatically about what connections between Mary and Eve must be true is arbitrary - if the relation between Eve's creation and Adam's (Adam -> Eve) differs from the relation between Mary's creation and Christ's (alleged new Eve -> new Adam), why should we not think that the creation of sinless Eve differs from the creation of Mary? And let us not forget that we are assuming that the typology is valid in the first place. Anyways, it was an interesting program and I recommend it.

RC Hermeneutics and Divine Contraception

Pope Benedict XVI’s recent comments on condoms and male prostitution have sparked numerous debates about whether or not Rome’s stance against contraception is shifting. That is an issue for which so-called “traditional” RCs can fend for themselves; I have no interest in playing he-said/she-said. The pope’s comments, however, provide an occasion for wondering why Rome opposes contraception at all, and therefore provides me with the opportunity of reflecting on the subject of typology.

This post will not pretend to address all arguments against contraception (especially since I myself lean towards anti-contraception). However, because I have been told on more than one occasion by an RC that Protestants in general (and myself in particular) do not fully appreciate Scriptural typology and analogy - and what with the recent surge amongst the Reformed in the area of so-called biblical theology, I find this criticism a little amusing - I have felt inclined to show that it is rather the case that RCs are typically wont to cite passages with the barest appearance of relevance to a subject to, as they see it, buttress their beliefs. In the case of contraception, the arguments I most often hear from RCs and the arguments that will serve as the examples of the wild nature of RC hermeneutics (admittedly based on my singular experience) are as follows:

- Men are commanded to be fruitful and multiply (Genesis 1:28, 9:7, 35:11), and since a couple’s ability to fulfill this is at least hindered if contraception is used, contraception ought not be used.

- Union between man and wife reflects the union between Christ and His bride, the church (Ephesians 5:25-32); if the concept of contraception is not found in the latter covenant, then, it should not be found in the former covenant.

The first argument, in short, presupposes that believers are under the covenant of works and/or that we constitute the physical line through which the Messiah will come, as those were the contexts in which God's commands to Adam, Noah, and Jacob, were given. Both are false and, if taken to their logical conclusions, damnable. At the very least, both fail to understand the way in which Jesus fulfills the covenants - He, by His life, death, and resurrection, merited and secured the graces necessary for the salvation of the elect. We become children of God and Abraham by the Spirit, not the flesh. Only by divorcing history from Christ could one make such a hermeneutical faux pas. Ironically, in this case it is the RC, not the Protestant, who fails to see the typological connections extant in pre-redemptive history. As I have written elsewhere:

“Jesus made it clear in the Great Commission that the church was to spread His name throughout all nations (cf. Romans 10:14-15), and the reason He did not do this on His own [is]… because the assistance of the church is necessary in the same way woman was necessary for Adam to have protologically fulfilled the dominion mandate (compare Genesis 22:18 to Matthew 28:19). The church is God’s chosen means of effecting His predestined, merited goals. She spreads the gospel which, when the Father sends His Spirit to regenerate an individual unto the image of Christ, adopts the newborn believer into God’s family so that he or she can further propagate God’s word, literally extending the temples of God in which the Holy Spirit dwells and which we are, as a royal priesthood, to treat with care. The primary point is that the dominion mandate is fulfilled spiritually, not physically (John 1:12-13), which is why Paul – who didn’t marry – could call Timothy and his other disciples his own children (1 Corinthians 7:8, Titus 1:4, &c.).”

Too, we know that the way in which Christ and the church procreates is through the preaching of the word (Romans 10:17), as that is the appointed means by which new creations – Spirit-children – come to faith (James 1:18). The assertion that in such work a notion of contraception is non-existent – and therefore ought not to be existent in the analogous relationship between man and wife – may seem plausible at first glance. However, considering the plethora of times God has hardened the minds of men against His word (John 12:37-40), refusing to work miracles or speak plainly for the express purpose of prohibiting unbelievers from becoming children in God’s family (Matthew 11:21 and 13:10-15, respectively), may one not suggest this is indeed a form of contraception? That we are to preach the gospel to all without exception, that the Son gives life to whom He wishes, and that the Son does not wish to give life to all without exception would actually seem to imply a sort of divine contraception.

One could argue that this is a case in which analogical connections are pushed too far. I would agree. But in that case, it might similarly be argued that using the fact that the union between Christ and church is similar to man and wife to argue that there must be similarities between the way in which each covenantal union procreates is a case in which analogical connections are pushed too far.

As opposed to the naive hermeneutic which republishes as commandment that which is accomplished by Christ and spiritually fulfilled by means of His bride, this second argument connotes a radical hermeneutic. The common denominator is a system which encourages a defensive, rather than a biblical, theology.