The perception of Christians in Western culture these days is growing increasingly negative, in large part because we are seen as focused on telling other people what to do and what not to do. Regrettably, that view has some truth to it. Regrettably, but not surprisingly; after all, we don’t cease to be sinners just because we start going to church. Even the most Christlike people I have ever known were simul iustus et peccator, in Luther’s phrase, simultaneously saint and sinner. The redeeming work of Jesus in our lives by the power of his Holy Spirit is the deepest reality of our hearts, but the reality of the sin in our hearts is very deep as well.
One of the effects of our sin is a proclivity to read our Bibles the wrong way ’round.Read more→
Whoever keeps the whole law but fails at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it. For he who said, “Do not commit adultery,” also said, “Do not murder.” If you do not commit adultery but do commit murder, you have become a lawbreaker. Speak and act as those who will be judged by the law of liberty, for judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment.
—James 2:10-13
In human courts, mercy and justice seem clearly to be mutually opposed: justice for the victims of crime means imposing punishments on criminals, and pleas for mercy are requests that those punishments be lessened (or not imposed at all). At the same time, the operation of human justice consists of the rendering and enactment of judgments on crime and criminals.
Given these realities, it’s no surprise that we assume God’s justice and mercy to be equally at odds. Salvation through Jesus is often understood as God’s mercy overcoming his justice, and this understanding is presented as a straightforward reading of James 2:13b: “Mercy triumphs over judgment.” We may not even notice that it says judgment rather than justice—after all, aren’t they the same thing?
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.
—T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets, “East Coker,” V.
If people know anything about 2 Corinthians, it’s probably the “thorn in the flesh” passage, 12:7-10. On the one hand, there are all sorts of ideas as to what the thorn in the flesh was, and those sorts of speculative disagreements always generate interest. On the other, this is where we get the oft-quoted idea that God’s power is perfected in weakness. Unfortunately, however, I think the standard interpretation of this passage misses what’s actually going on.Read more→
(This is another excerpt from my manuscript on the Sermon on the Mount. This is the whole first chapter, so it’s a longer post—about 2700 words.)
For all that I might ever say about the Sermon on the Mount, the most important single point, and the nub of all the rest, is this: The Sermon is gospel, not law. It is the proclamation of the good news that Jesus came that we might have abundant life—which is not just more of the same life the world has to offer. The life Jesus gives is wholly new because it comes from a source outside this world: it’s the life of the kingdom of God. It is life which both flows out of and creates a change of allegiance and citizenship. To be a disciple of Jesus is to be a citizen of the kingdom of heaven, giving our allegiance to the Lord of the universe above any earthly flag and any human government or authority. The Sermon on the Mount shows us what it means to live as citizens of heaven among the nations of this world.[1]Read more→
(This is a second excerpt from chapter 17 of my manuscript on the Sermon on the Mount; the first excerpt is here.)
That the Pharisees confronting Jesus [in Matthew 19] don’t believe divorce to be sinful is clear from their belief that Moses commanded divorce. Jesus shows them how far wrong they have gone, and how hard their hearts have become, by linking divorce to adultery. He does the same in the Sermon on the Mount, and it’s instructive to put the two statements together. Matthew 19:9 is straightforward: “Anyone who divorces his wife, except for marital unfaithfulness, and marries another woman commits adultery.”[1] The man is the guilty party from start to finish. If he divorces his wife unjustly, God will not grant his divorce. Any remarriage on his part is adulterous because it defies the will and purpose of God in creating marriage in the first place. God will not simply accede to our pretensions to set his work aside for our own selfish purposes.Read more→
(As I noted yesterday, though I haven’t been posting here, I have been continuing to work on the Sermon on the Mount book; so while I’m getting other things spooled up, I’m going to start posting excerpts from the manuscript as well. I’m not going to do them in any particular order, just as they occur to me. First up: the opening of chapter 17, “Our Law Is Too Small,” on Jesus’ words regarding divorce.)
The power imbalance between men and women in first-century Jewish culture shows even more clearly when Jesus turns to address divorce. He introduces the subject with the statement, “It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’”[1] The use of the word “also” acknowledges the close connection in subject matter between this quotation and his citation of the law against adultery in 5:27. Unlike 5:27, however, the law cited here is not a commandment from God through Moses. It’s inferred from the Torah, not taken from the Torah. In this case, that makes all the difference in the world.Read more→
Paying attention to the structure of the Sermon on the Mount can be difficult, because it isn’t linear in its argument, and doesn’t flow the way essays and speeches in Western culture do. As a result, there’s little agreement among scholars on its structure—or even if it has one. Some, like W. D. Davies, go so far as to conclude that it has none at all, but is merely “an agglomeration of sources and even of snippets of tradition.” This allows us to read it as a disjointed jumble of topics with little real coherence or unity.
I believe the Sermon has a strong structure which makes sense if we understand and remember the common literary structures of the Old Testament, and particularly its use of parallelism. Parallelism of various types is common in the literature of the ancient world, both for aesthetic effect and as an aid to memory—which was of great importance in those largely pre-literate cultures. The Old Testament is no exception. Most simply, we see parallelism in individual verses, such as the step parallelism (AB A’B’ pattern) of Isaiah 28:17:
I will make justicethe measuring line,
and righteousnessthe plumb line.
In verses like Isaiah 41:9, we see an AB B’A’ pattern, called inverted parallelism or chiasm:
I took youfrom the ends of the earth,
and from its farthest cornersI called you.
(The word “chiasm” comes from the Greek letter X (pronounced khi); if one draws lines between the parallel elements in these lines, they form an X.)
These basic forms can be extended beyond just two lines into more complex parallels.
This is especially true of inverted parallelism, which scholars like Kenneth Bailey argue is used to structure paragraphs, whole passages, and perhaps even entire biblical books. These larger forms are also commonly referred to as chiasms or chiastic structures; since the original visual metaphor is lost on this scale, however, I prefer the term “ring composition” for these texts. In such literary units, the parallelism serves a purpose beyond the aesthetic or the mnemonic: it also functions in part to shape and reinforce the message and meaning of the text. The climax of the piece typically comes not at the end but in the center section around which it turns. The opening and closing sections are next in importance because they set the theme of the composition and provide the context for its argument.
I believe the Sermon on the Mount is a ring composition, and that understanding this opens up the meaning of the text and helps us make sense of its more obscure parts. Viewed in this way, for instance, it isn’t necessary to say, “The connection of Matt. 7:1–11 (cf. Luke 6:37–38, 41–42) to the preceding context is not easy to discern,” or to conclude that Matthew 7:6 is a “detached unrelated saying,” as David L. Turner does, because the structure shows us the connections.
The Sermon on the Mount as Ring Composition
A 5:1-10 The way of the disciple: already blessed
B 5:11-16 The way of the disciple: marks of a true disciple
C 5:17-20 Thesis: Jesus fulfills the Law and the Prophets
D 5:21-37 The true application of the law (correcting misuse)
E 5:38-48 Trust in God (contrast with Gentiles)
F 6:1-6 Reward: earth vs. heaven
G 6:7-8 On prayer: trust
H 6:9-13 Lord’s Prayer
G` 6:14-15 On prayer: forgiveness
F` 6:16-24 Reward: earth vs. heaven
E` 6:25-34 Trust in God (contrast with Gentiles)
D` 7:1-6 The true application of the law (correcting misuse)
G“ 7:7-11 On prayer: trust
C` 7:12 Thesis: Jesus summarizes the Law and the Prophets
B` 7:13-23 Two ways: marks of a false disciple
A` 7:24-29 Two ways: already blessed/already cursed
E: God’s character: justice, longsuffering, ḥesed, including his provision for the world
E:` God’s character: his care for us, illustrated by his provision for the world
Over two and a half months ago, I began a series of posts in response to a blog post by Mark Sandlin (a liberal PC(USA) pastor) titled “At What Point Do We Get to Say Parts of Christianity Are No Longer Christian?” Yes, this is the second in that series. I truly did not intend to take that long to get back to this; life and other topics intervened. I’m quite sure I’ll have the third up much more quickly than that, since I’ve already started working on it. For now, though, go read Sandlin’s post and the first part of my response; I’ll still be here when you get back.
If you’ve done that, then I can take my positive comments on Sandlin’s post as read and go from there. This is important because my first critical observation is actually implicit in my praise of his work. Sandlin frames his subject in terms of judgment, and frets that identifying and calling out people who are using Christianity rather than practicing it (the distinction is his, and it’s a good one) is “judgmental” and “mean.” My response, by contrast, is framed in terms of discernment, which is related but significantly different. I believe there’s a category error lurking at the heart of Sandlin’s argument; it’s a subtle one, but important nonetheless.
I love the Metaphysical poets. Henry Vaughan wasn’t as great a poet as John Donne or George Herbert, but that’s mostly because he didn’t write as many truly great poems as those two men. At his best, his poetry was among the most brilliant the English language has yet seen. This is my favorite of his poems, a meditation inspired by the visit of Nicodemus to Jesus in John 3.
