How Jesus Saved the World, Part 2

Continued from Part 1

By arresting, torturing, and killing Jesus, the authorities thought that they were securing well being and peace again in their society by means of the tried and true method of a single-victim scapegoat. Everyone’s thirst for violence will be satisfied and we can get on with the business of everyday life.

Once they decided on this violence, they were all unified. Everyone’s anger and frustration and hatred converged on a single victim. If we don’t understand this process we will just be baffled by the bizarre unity achieved in John 18–19.  The escalation of the rivalries and the advent of violence always witness the strangest about-faces and the most unexpected regroupings: Pharisees and Herodians; Zealots and Sadducees.  The bodyguards of the High Priests and the Roman Cohort garrisoned in Jerusalem. Judas and Peter. Caiaphas, Annas, and Pilate. Religious leaders cooperated with political.  Barrabas was accepted by the Jews.  Jews and Romans learned to work together! “Herod and Pilate became friends with each other that very day, for before this they had been at enmity with each other” (Luke 23:12).

We have a united kingdom—one society, one kingdom, a kingdom of this world unified in their hatred and violence. They all conspire together against the Lord and his anointed (Psalm 2).

And here is Jesus, the innocent victim, the scapegoat. “My kingdom is not of this world, Governor Pilate.”

Continue reading on the Trinity House blog.

How Jesus Saved the World, Part 1

We are too used to reading the Gospels’ stories of Jesus’ arrest, trial, condemnation, and death from a devotional perspective and so we miss a lot of what’s going on. We actually have a difficult time trying to figure out the meaning of the details of the story. Of course, we will defend the historicity of the details of the story against unbelieving academics and liberal churchman. But why these details? Why any details at all?

John has already wonderfully summarized things in chapters 1 and 3. “Behold the Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world” and “God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son.” But what does God’s provision of a lamb for the sins of the world have to do with this long story of what happens to Jesus the night before he dies? What does God loving the world have to do with the machinations and conspiracies of Judas, the High Priests, Pilate, and the Jewish crowds? A great deal, truly, but we will have to learn to read the Passion accounts a bit differently.

You see, here in the narrative of Jesus’ arrest and trial and condemnation we have a somewhat surprising perspective.  It does not contradict or compete with the other apostolic explanations of Jesus’ death; rather, it complements and enriches them. Remember, the meaning of the death of Jesus is far richer than we are often used to acknowledging. When we look at the details of the text—what events and characters and words John has carefully chosen to weave together from the story of Jesus’ last few days—we can get a pretty good idea of what he is trying to communicate. This is not fiction, but history. Nevertheless, narrating history is never simply a matter of reproducing what has happened. Out of a million and more little details one must pick and choose just what to record.

Read the rest here at Trinity House.

Learning the Bible!

For years I've complained that churches don't teach the Bible.  That seminaries don't effectively teach Bible content!  That endless topical sermons in our churches are contributing to an epidemic of biblical illiteracy in the Christian community.  Here is some good stuff on this topic my Michael Bull.

“Pastor, if the local atheist knows the Bible and understands its basic implications for morality, society, politics, education, economics, history and science better than the people you instruct every week, and most likely he does, you are failing them.”

It seems to me that good Christians go off to Bible college and seminary little suspecting that these institutions are places where they teach you how not to read a book. 

Certainly, an understanding of the original languages and cultures is helpful, but somehow the modern mind takes a book that is far more than the sum of its parts and teaches it as parts. For a start, we don’t read any book like that. If we, as Christians, believe that the Bible has a single author, why would an intelligent, committed and passionate minister of the gospel tell me that Jesus’ crown of thorns has nothing to do with the thorns in Genesis 3? Why? Was it because he was taught that the Bible was written by idiots, or was it because he was taught by idiots? Please note that this man is not an idiot. He, like just about all ministers today, has been trained in a tradition that takes young heads, cuts off their ears and gouges out their eyes. They come out deaf and colorblind. They are not qualified to teach the Bible as it really is.

Read the entire article here.

The Apostolic Succession of Suffering, Part III

Part II noted how Christ's vicarious suffering is a model for Christian behavior, especially for the ministry.  Jesus suffered and died for us so that the kingdom might come.  We suffer and die for others so that the fullness of the kingdom comes.  Think about the book of Acts from this perspective.  Peter, John, Stephen, James, Paul, and the entire church had to suffer so that the kingdom of Jesus could grow and advance.  Every time someone suffers or dies in the story of Acts, the kingdom expands in some way or another.

And although this sounds odd to our ears, these sufferings are for the world.  In other words, they are in some deep, mystical sense vicarious.  According to Colossians 1:24, the kind of suffering that Paul rejoices in is substitutionary.  Suffering on behalf of others, in exchange for others.  Paul makes this very clear: “I rejoice in my suffering for you . . . for the sake of his body, the church."  He suffers in exchange for the sufferings that the Colossians might have had.  His suffering means that the Colossians do not have to suffer as much as they might have.

Now, we usually reserve that word “substitutionary” for the sufferings of Christ for us on the cross.  He took the punishment we deserved.  He suffered for our sins.  But that's not the only way one can "substitute" for another.

The Apostolic Succession of Suffering, Part II

I ended Part I wondering why books on the pastoral ministry typically don't include a chapter with a title like "Pastoral Care Through Vicarious Suffering."  After all, that is an accurate description of a crucial dimension of the ministry.  And this neglected feature of the pastor's vocation flows from the Apostles' foundational example and teaching, especially the Apostle Paul.  But, of course, it is grounded ultimately in the Jesus' service for us.  Oh wait, Jesus' service was the fulfillment of Israel's calling and vocation.  And even deeper, Israel was a new Adam.  So this is all about authentic human living, especially as social creatures.   But let's not get too far ahead here.  Back to Col. 1:24-26:

Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church, of which I became a minister according to the stewardship from God that was given to me for you, to make the word of God fully known, the mystery hidden for ages and generations but now revealed to his saints (Col. 1:24-26).

You see, what Paul's words here mean is that the fullness of the kingdom comes when ministers fill out the sufferings of Christ in service to the church and world.  Paul suffers so that the fullness of the kingdom might be experienced by the Colossian Christians.  That is why Paul can "rejoice" in his sufferings.  Because he knows What his tribulations will produce.  As he says in Romans 5:3, ". . . we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces. . . "

The Apostolic Succession of Suffering, Part I

"Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church, of which I became a minister according to the stewardship from God that was given to me for you, to make the word of God fully known, the mystery hidden for ages and generations but now revealed to his saints" (Col. 1:24-26).

Lots of Christians steer clear of this passage in Paul's letter to the Colossians.  They are afraid that any discussion of what may be "lacking in Christ's sufferings" will water down our strong doctrine of the substitutionary atonement of Jesus for the sins of his people.  But apparently Paul didn't think so.  Otherwise he would have phrased this differently.

The place of suffering in the Apostolic ministry in the first century church needs more study.  The apostles talk about suffering a lot, more than we are comfortable with.  The Apostle Paul seems to have believed that his suffering in particular was pivotal in the progress and maturation of the developing church.  Here in Colossians 1 he "rejoices in his sufferings. . . for the sake of his body, that is the church" (24).  But he often rejoices in his afflictions and calls attention to his suffering as a model for ministry in the church.

For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake (Phil. 1.29).

For when we were with you, we kept telling you beforehand that we were to suffer affliction, just as it has come to pass, and just as you know (1 Thess. 3:4).

Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord, nor of me his prisoner, but share in suffering for the gospel by the power of God,  who saved us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began, and which now has been manifested through the appearing of our Savior Christ Jesus, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel, for which I was appointed a preacher and apostle and teacher, which is why I suffer as I do (2 Tim. 1:8-12).

Some Thoughts on Status & Position in the Gospels

I've preached through all four Gospels.  It took me 16 years of morning sermons to go through them all paragraph by paragraph.  After finishing them I want to go back and do it again.  One of the reasons is that I now have a better grasp on them all.  There's a great deal I could say about that. But what I want to call attention to in this post is the importance of reading the Gospels in the context of the early, Apostolic church.

I am convinced of the early church "Augustinian" view of the order the Gospels.  The first Gospel to be written was Matthew's, then Mark's, then Luke's, then John's.  The canonical order is the order in which they were composed.  In fact, I'm pretty radical.  I believe Matthew was written within a year or so of the church's formation in Acts 2.  The apostles needed a "book" to ground what they were teaching on the life and words of Jesus.  Mark was written about a decade later and reflects the intense persecution the church was experiencing at the hands of the Jewish leaders.  That was already going on at the time of Matthew's Gospel, but it had increased in the 40's.  Luke, of course, was written under the supervision of Paul and addresses the church's situation in the wider world, especially the inclusion of the Gentiles.  John penned his Gospel in the late 60's when the old world was about to be deconstructed with the judgment against Israel and the destruction of the Temple.

During this time of transition (AD 30–70) the disciples of Jesus were in a precarious position.  Having no status and position in the old world of Judaism, the challenge was to trust Jesus' promises that the church would one day be exalted and be at the center of a new civilization (= the Kingdom of God).

Human Temple

One of the lectionary readings for the second Sunday of Advent was Malachi 3:1-4.  The prophet prophesies that the Lord will "suddenly come to his temple" and that he will be "like a refiner's fire and like fullers' soap."  A couple of interesting things to note here:

First, the tabernacle and temple always stood for the people Israel gathered, organized around God’s special presence.  When Peter talks about us being "living stones" he's not introducing something new.  After all, did anyone expect Jesus to be scrubbing the stones on the physical temple with a soapy brush?  Or blasting away at the gold and silver with a blow torch to purify the precious metals?  Of course not.  Jesus' cleansing the temple was all about reforming the people.  The gold, silver, and stones of the temple represented various kinds of people.  When Nebuchadnezzar raided the temple and took the gold and silver, at the same time he also snatched the best and brightest of Israel and brought them back to Babylon.  And when he came again to destroy the temple, he destroyed and captured the rest of the people, thereby deconstructing the entire nation of Israel.

Second, the promise of the Lord coming to his temple also has a surprising fulfillment.  The Son of God did not merely appear in the midst of his people as an angel or a theophany to deliver messages from heaven.  And he did not simply cause his Glory to fill the old temple as in the past.  The time for stone temples was past.  Was a stone temple ever really a fitting dwelling place for God?  Would God the Son come to his people to reside permanently in a stone house?  No.  Stephen makes this clear in his speech to the rulers of Israel.  "The Most High does not dwell in houses made by hands" (Acts 7:48-49; quoting Isaiah 66).

Jesus Reveals God's True Character

Let me briefly address a mistake that continues to be perpetuated and it sounds so right because it is popularly repeated over and over again in apologetics and evangelism books, tracts, and sermons.

The mistake is to think that the miracles that Jesus did proves that he was divine.  That the clearest, most compelling evidence of the divinity of Jesus was when he did miraculous works of power.  No.  Read the Bible carefully.  In the Scriptures it is human prophets who do these kinds of things.  Moses was not God, but he performed great signs and wonders.  He was a mighty prophet.  And Moses discovered, too, that the magicians of Egypt could imitate these acts.  Jesus himself knew and the author of Acts relates that other people were able to perform exorcisms and what not.  Similar miracles were done by Elijah and Elisha, but they were not God.  God did "extraordinary miracles by the hands of Paul" (Acts 19:11).  But Paul was not God.

Haven’t you every thought it odd that the epistles of Paul and Peter and John make no mention of the miracles of Jesus as a proof of his divinity?  Rather, Peter says, “Jesus of Nazareth, a Man attested by God to you by miracles, wonders, and signs which God did through Him" (Acts 2:22).

As it turns out, whenever the apostles speak of Jesus as God they connect it with his incarnation and self-sacrificial death?  Jesus' divine nature and character are unveiled in his humble service to us in his birth, life, suffering, and death.  The point is that what makes, what proves, if you will, that Jesus is God, is not his works of power and might, but his humble self-sacrifice.  His self-effacing love and service for humanity.  This is who God is.  Jesus is the true revelation of God.  And God turns out to be the Chief Servant of all, rather than the big, power-hungry God that pushes people around to show off his greatness.

On Leaven, Yeast, and the Lord's Supper

I offer some biblical and theological thoughts on the question of what kind of bread to use in the Lord's Supper.  This is not a polished essay.  I'm just "casting my bread upon the waters," as Solomon advises (Eccl. 11:1).

1.  The main thing to think about is that the unleavened bread is bread made without the old sour "starter" dough that contains the yeast.  In normal situations the yeast comes from that starter  "leaven."  "Leaven" refers to the old, sour reserved dough that contains the yeast.  Leaven contains yeast.  Leaven is not the same as yeast.  The NIV and other translations screw this up entirely.

2.  When bread is being made, there are two sources for yeast.  First, you can get yeast from the old leaven that you have "reserved."  In fact, the yeast must be imported into the "leaven" at the start of the process.  When the process begins yeast is cultivated from the lees of wine.  Then the yeast is put into the dough.  A portion of the dough is used to cook the first batch, but a larger portion is "reserved" in order have the yeast readily available for use in later loaves.  This "starter" dough that is kept is what is called the "leaven."  It's the old, sour dough used as a delivery mechanism for the yeast.

3.  The second way to get yeast is to get it "fresh" when it's cultivated from wine.  In the ancient world people knew how to rise bread without the sourdough lump (leaven).  Technically, a fresh loaf of bread made with this newly cultivated yeast is not "leavened."   What this means is that the first batch of yeasted, rising bread that is made with the new yeast is not leavened bread.  It is yeasted, but not from the sour dough leaven.  So you could say that a loaf made with yeast not from the reserved, sour leaven is still unleavened bread.  It's new.  It doesn't use the old, sour stuff.  The bread we use for the Lord's  Supper in our church is not sour dough bread.  It is not leavened bread.  It contains fresh yeast.  It is yeasted, but not leavened.  This is theologically and symbolically significant.

The Heresy with the Really Cool Name

The Good News is not that God made some external determination to forgive man, superficially exercised his divine will, waved a disinterested wand and sprinkled some salvation dust across the human race.  What he did was penetrate the very depths of humanity’s being and life, to restore the distorted and corrupt condition of man’s actual human existence.  In his innermost being as the Son he genuinely united himself to human, finite, creaturely existence.  We call that the incarnation.

God himself bore our infirmities and sins and the whole inheritance of judgment that lay against us—God himself, not merely in some extrinsic, detached way.  He personally bore all of this.

Incidentally, it is important to not evade this point by denying that Jesus assumed our fallen, mortal human nature.  The Greek culture where the Gospel was preached held to the apathy or passionlessness of the divine nature.  In order to avoid the revolutionary doctrine of God presented in the Scriptures, the heresy of aphthartodocetism was invented.  The error here is to say that Jesus took to himself a flawless human nature, one that was not affected by the curse.  God himself didn't really suffer, he only appeared to do so.  Jesus' mind and body were not subject to sickness, weakness, and the liabilities of our mortal existence.  That, of course, frees God from any contact with the yuckiness of mortal human existence as we experience it.

But this is not what we read in the Scriptures.  Jesus, as true God, was also a man like us subject to our frailties though without sin.  This is not only essential to his being our Savior; it is precisely the way the Son has revealed the true character of God to us. If the weakness, suffering, and death of Jesus was simply that of a good man from Nazareth, then God is inevitably bound to become a cold, silent, unknown heavenly power.  And even if God had united himself with a pre-fall Adamic human nature, somehow remaining aloof and detached from the weakness as suffering associated with humanity's present condition, then that would be the end of the Christian faith.  What Jesus’ birth—and then, of course, his life as a mortal man—manifests to us is the willing suffering of the passionate God.

Holiday Feasting!

Everyone knows, of course, that the pilgrims established a feast, invited the Indians and the whole community, and all for the purpose of giving thanks to God for his gracious provisions.  But did you know that in decreeing a feast, they were acting according to a long tradition among the people of God?A tradition that gives priority to feasts—joyous communal eating and drinking—over against fasting and penitential self-affliction?

When the church is healthy she multiplies feasts, when she is sick and wayward she increases fasting and turns the feasting Table of the Lord’s Supper into a somber Tomb.   This is what happened in the late Middle Ages, before Calvin and Luther restored weekly communion, feasting, singing, and gave Christian people a reason for giving thanks.  Knowing that Jesus died to set us from from sin, death, and the devil leads to thankful feasting.

This tradition of giving precedence to feasting is not merely a tradition, it’s mandated by God in the Bible—Old and New Testaments.  God multiplied feasts and commanded his people to eat and drink and rejoice regularly, repeatedly.  Here is just one example:

And before the LORD your God, in the place that he will choose, to make his name dwell there, you shall eat the tithe of your grain, of your wine, and of your oil, and the firstborn of your herd and flock, that you may learn to fear the LORD your God always. And if the way is too long for you, so that you are not able to carry the tithe, when the LORD your God blesses you, because the place is too far from you, which the LORD your God chooses, to set his name there, then you shall turn it into money and bind up the money in your hand and go to the place that the LORD your God chooses and spend the money for whatever you desire—oxen or sheep or wine or strong drink, whatever your appetite craves. And you shall eat there before the LORD your God and rejoice, you and your household (Deut. 14:23-26).

So why does God command us to feast?

On Interviews & Testimonies, Part II

Continued from Part I.

Another problem I've observed in interviews conducted with the intention of discovering the authenticity of someone's faith has to do with a popular set of "diagnostic" questions.  Of course, we have to ask diagnostic questions of the one being interviewed.  It's not so much the questions that are the problem; rather, the answers that are given need to be wisely analyzed.  Whatever answers our questions provoke must be carefully evaluated.  Too often we react to the sound of certain words and phrases and are too eager to jump to cookie-cutter conclusions about the person's spiritual status.  So what am I talking about?

Probably the most popular set of diagnostic questions for evangelically oriented elders and boards are the two Evangelism Explosion (EE) questions:  

1.  Have you come to the place in your spiritual life where you can say you know for certain that if you were to die today you would go to heaven?

2.  Suppose that you were to die today and stand before God and he were to say to you, "Why should I let you into my heaven?" what would you say?

I've used these questions many times in my conversations with people and on evangelistic forays into the neighborhood around the churches I've served.  They are not bad questions.  They can be productive conversation starters.  But evaluating the answers given to these questions is a lot harder than is commonly thought.  For one thing, we need to be very careful about jumping to quick conclusions about somebody's spiritual life and relationship to God based on their short, off-the-cuff answers to these two questions.  I've seen young Christians and wiser elders draw unwarranted conclusions about a person's "unsaved" status simply because the person being interviewed didn't answer these questions with familiar terminology or used words and phrases that evoked "works righteousness" fears.  And conversely, just because a person knows all the right lingo in response to questions like this doesn't mean they are genuine believers. Are these issues for which school and elder boards are thoughtfully prepared?   I want to unpack this a little bit more.

Usus Politicus

The "political" or "civil use" of the Decalogue often gets little or no attention these days.  But every polis needs a legal code that will shape the way people live in relation to one another; and the ten commandments have an inexorably social dimension.  Yahweh gave the Ten Words to an amorphous Israel gathered at the foot of Mt. Sinai.  It was to be the charter for their new culture, foundational words that would mold and shape them into a peaceful, productive society.  The Decalogue is not given simply to guide individuals in their religious, private piety.  They are about how the community is called to live together in marriages, families, cities, and larger communities.  Here are two ways of summarizing the Ten Words that bring out the cultural focus.

The first way highlights what God seeks to promote in human civilization. The Ten Words are intended to form a particular type of society. A community of people . . .

1.  that put their trust in the true God (“In God we trust”), 

2.  that worship God in a fitting way, 

3.  that bear the name of God in a glorious way in their daily lives, 

4.  A civilization that safeguards people from the slavery of never-ending work and frees them to gather for worship on the day of the Lord, 

5.  A culture that honors and obeys parents and others in authority, 

6.  one that protects the life of the innocent, 

7.  that remains true to their marriage covenants.  

8.  that respects the right of private property against theft,

9.  where the courts are respected and justice is the norm because people testify honestly,

10. that are content with what gifts and goods with which God has blessed them.

The second way of summarizing the Ten Words calls attention to what is prohibited and the consequences of violating God's law.  

Not All Killing is Killing

Thou shalt not kill - Deut. 5:17

To even understand what this law forbids you have to know something of the context of the Bible as a whole. This is simply a summary command.  Everyone who knows the Bible as a whole knows that this imperative is not meant to be taken absolutely.   It has to be understood in context.

About a decade ago, after the 9-11 attacks on the World Trade Center, this appeared in Christianity Today: “If we kill as a response to this great tragedy, we are no better than the terrorists who launched this awful offensive. Killing is killing, and killing is always wrong.”

No, that's not the case at all.  Suppose someone says, "I take the 6th commandment seriously. I believe all killing is wrong.  That's why I'm a vegetarian."  Has he really understood the meaning of this commandment.  Is he taking the commandment seriously? You want to ask him: So do you also not kill mosquitoes, roaches, and mice?

Thou Shalt Not Play God

When I was a teenager, a few buddies and I would periodically break into a local business.  We used credit cards to jimmy the locks on the back door.  There was no alarm.  We would never steal anything of real value, but we always left with something little—maybe some food (ice cream or candy) or a pen—just enough to top off the experience.  What experience?  The exhilaration that attends such audacious mischief.  For us to roam through the facility and not get caught was an adrenaline rush.  We could do it.  We did it. We were young, but we had the power.  And we didn’t get caught.  We were untouchable.  We were like gods.

Download and listen to the entire sermon on the 8th commandment.

The Triune God & Creation

Unexplored Dimensions of Our Christian Worldview

Of him, through him, and to him are all things — Romans 11:36

I.  What was God doing before he created the world?

    A.  WCF 2.2  God has all life, glory, goodness, blessedness, in and of himself; and is alone in and unto himself all-sufficient, not standing in need of any creatures which he hath made, nor deriving any glory from them, but only manifesting his own glory in, by, unto, and upon them. He is the alone fountain of all being, of whom, through whom, and to whom are all things.

    B.   God’s ontological/relational independence

        1.  God neither depends upon, nor needs any other (Exodus 3:14; Psalm 5:9; Acts 17:24, 25; Col. 1:16; Rev. 4:11). God has/d no need for creation.  God desired to created, he didn't need to.

        2.  As Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (Matt. 28:19; 1 John 4:8, 16) God experiences the fulness of personal relationship apart from creation.  Out of that fulness of relational happiness the Father, Son, ad Holy Spirit created the world and humanity.

Job's Lament - Part II

Continued from Part I

Let the day perish on which I was born,

and the night that said,

"A man is conceived."

Let that day be darkness!

May God above not seek it,

nor light shine upon it.

This is the beginning of Job's lament in which he curses the day of his birth (Job 3:1-26).  What are we to make of this?  Does Job's poem reveal sinful thoughts?  Is Job's faith wavering?  Has he gone too far?  There are many commentators who believe that this poem uncovers a sinful attitude of ingratitude and anxiety on Job's part.  Matthew Henry says,

"The extremity of his trouble and discomposure of his spirit may excuse it in part, but he can by no means be justified in it. . . . to curse the day of our birth because then we entered upon the calamitous scene of life is to quarrel with the God of nature, to despise the dignity of our being, and to indulge a passion which our own calm and sober thoughts will make us ashamed of.  Certainly there is no condition of life a man can be in this world but he may in it (if it be not his own fault) so honour God, and work out his own salvation, and make sure a happiness for himself in a better world, that he will have no reason at all to wish he had never been born, but a great deal of reason to say that he had his being to good purpose. . . There can be no reason for so vain and ungrateful a wish.  It was Job’s folly and weakness to curse his [birth] day”

The Widow's Mite

I see that the Gospel reading in the lectionary this week is Mark 12: 38-44.  I'm preaching through the 10 commandments, so I won't be commenting on this passage on Sunday.  But I would like to give a different perspective on this passage than what is normally heard.

It should be carefully noted that the 2 synoptic Gospels that include the account of the destitute widow dropping her little gift into the offering box at the temple have it sandwiched between 1) Jesus' warning about the scribes "who devour widows' houses," and 2) his indignant prophesy that Israel's temple/house will be destroyed (Mark 12:38–13:2; Luke 20:45–21:9).  These three blocks of texts are inexorably connected.

      - A warning against the scribes devouring widows' houses
      - A poor widow giving all she has at the temple/house offering box
      - Jesus condemning the temple/house of Israel to destruction

The widow is often used by preachers as an illustration of exemplary giving. She gives all that she has. Isn't that wonderful?  Really?  Would I as a pastor accept everything a poor widow had if I knew she was putting that much into the offering plate?  No way.  Think about it.  Apparently this widow's poverty was known.  And Jesus is not happy that the leaders of Israel are permitting this—more than that—encouraging it.  He's pretty angry.

This story of the widow's offering is not intended to be read as a object lesson about sacrificial giving.  It's not really about the exemplary piety of this widow.  She is so faithful that she gives sacrificially and generously.  There's some truth to this, of course. She is only following the advice of her pastors.  The problem is that the advice of her pastors is monstrously wicked and she apparently doesn't know any better.

This story is an indictment of the leadership of Israel—this is how they “devour widows' houses.”  They have created a system that preys on the weak and helpless.  That makes them believe they are being faithful and godly when they give much more than they need to or can afford to give. They have taught the poor to give everything they have to the temple building fund, which is contrary to the intention of the temple and the treasury system in Israel.  And all to line their own pockets.  Jesus is not first of all praising the widow’s action.  We are being told this story so that we can know why the temple treasury system is going to be demolished and destroyed – because instead of providing for widows and the poor, it sucks up their wealth and leaves them utterly destitute.  This is why the temple must be torn down, not one stone left upon another.

Job's lament

Job's curse-lament begins, "After this Job opened his mouth and cursed the day of his birth.  And Job said, 'Let the day perish on which I was born. . .'" (Job 3:1-3).  Not every commentator thinks that this is Job's finest moment.  Some even think that these sentiments are sinful and self-absorbed.  Divorced from the context of the story of Job this dark little poem might indeed be condemned as narcissistic. But I'm convinced it calls for a careful appraisal.  After all, remember that Job is wisdom literature.  And the words of the wise are not usually superficial.  They are "dark sayings" and "riddles" to be thoughtfully deciphered (Prov. 1:6).

Job was a ruler, a chief elder or probably even a king (Job 29:7; 31:21).  His "friends" are not simply chums, they are his "advisors," his "cabinet," if you will (2 Sam. 16:16).  The calamity that befalls him in the first chapters of the book have repercussions for the entire community, which is why his "friends" spend so much time trying to advise him how to respond well.  Job loses his sons and daughters, his health, the respect of his people, his standing in the community, his wife, his friends, and more.  But what is worse, Job loses the experience of the love and favor of God, his heavenly Father. The long arguments and further laments of Job as book progresses make it pretty clear that this last deprivation that is the most confusing and horrific to Job.

Before I talk about the content of the lament, the first thing we ought to note is how remarkable it is that in the context of Job’s abject misery he bothers to carefully compose, to artistically fashion this curse-lament. It is a complex, artistic poem with a very sophisticated heptamerous literary structure based on Genesis chapter one.  There's a lesson here about the value of art and beauty, even—or especially—in the midst of human suffering.  I am reminded of C. S. Lewis's sermon on the value of Learning in War-Time.

Continued in Part II