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Here is a very nice summary of Romans, by David Field. Concise and accurate.

[Note: this post also appears at the Biblical Horizons blog.]

In our earlier look at Paul’s use of Scripture in Romans 3, we focused upon how Psalm 51, from which the apostle quotes in verse 4, determines and shapes our reading of 3.1-8. We also noted that the psalm contains a reference to divine righteousness (Ps 51.14), where it refers to God’s salvific activity. In this post, we move on to the next subsection, and begin our consideration of Romans 3.9-20. What are these passages from which Paul quotes? What do they contribute to our understanding of Paul’s train of thought?

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[Note: This post also appears at the Biblical Horizons blog.]

It has always been important to pay attention to the Old Testament quotations we find in the New Testament, but in recent years, it has become even more clear that one must take into account the extended context of the passage cited, not simply the words directly quoted. This is understandable: unlike our situation, the ancient world largely communicated texts as an oral culture, and nobody footnoted.

But it is understandable on an even more important level: the New Testament writers are not manufacturing a de novo religion; they are drawing upon an inspired and authoritative text that has come to new light with the advent of Christ and the Spirit. (Indeed, this is what Paul says almost directly in 2 Corinthians 3.) And if this is the case, we can be sure that – no matter what our untrained eyes may lead us to believe at first glance – the writers of the New Testament were contextual and faithful to the Scriptures from which they drew. Our failure to recognize this stems, not from our superior training in hermeneutics, but from the poverty and weakness of our biblical understanding.

In the case of Romans 3, we have one of the heaviest concentrations of biblical citations to be found within the Pauline corpus. This means that proceeding to define terms and phrases must not be done in a vacuum; we must investigate the passages Paul cites.

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Well, it’s been a long time coming, and with schedules in the publishing world, it could be well over another year yet, but….

Canon Press informed me today that they would like to publish my little book. The full title is These Are Two Covenants: Reconsidering Paul on the Mosaic Law. It was originally intended as a chapter (an admittedly long one) in an Athanasius Press book which ultimately did not get published. I prepared it in 2004, although I did some minor touchups last year when I decided I needed to release it as a standalone book. Thus most of the work done on this is a few years old, and it’s relatively short (probably somewhere around 100 pages), but those who helped me vet the manuscript seemed to indicate that they found it a very helpful treatment of Paul’s view of the law. So although some time in the far distant future, I’d like to do a more comprehensive treatment of the subject, I’m very much looking forward to seeing this essay finally come to print.

I am conversing with someone who asked me where infant baptism can be found in Scripture. Here is what I wrote in response.

Thank you for your question. I am glad to see that you are concerned to
follow the Bible in this way. I hope you don’t mind if I take a few
paragraphs to talk about this.

Paul mentions baptism which includes infants in 1 Corinthians 10.2. Of
course, he is referring to an Old Testament event, but as he continues, we
find that he says that the Red Sea and wilderness partaking of water from
the rock and manna were of the same pattern as baptism and the Lord’s
Supper. To be more precise: he uses the language of “tupos” in verses 6 and
11, which is more than “example;” it refers to a pattern or matrix. And this
pattern of Israel was set for “us” (new covenant believers, including
Gentiles), who partake of the Lord’s Supper (1 Corinthians 10.16-22).

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[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog June 16 2007]

I recall that when I first started writing sermons, I was given to lengthiness. I suppose I saw those sermons as short – my Dad used to preach anywhere from an hour (on the very short end) to 3-4 hours (!).

When I was pastoring in Montana, I was in a local church context where the people really weren’t accustomed to long sermons, and I suppose I was kind of already going in the direction of shorter ones, anyway. I suspect my average sermon clocked in somewhere around 22-25 minutes by the time I left.

I find I’m going back up a bit. I hope that doesn’t mean that I’m just becoming more wordy and difficult; the truth is that while I still retain a very high view of preaching, I now recognize that it does not carry the full weight of the liturgy. God speaks to His people throughout the service, and not just in the sermon.

Anyway, I’ve just completed my sermon draft for tomorrow. It’s up in the 3300 word range; most of my Montana sermon drafts were around 2300-2600. But I don’t feel bad…. I guess I feel safe, since I think my sermons are usually shorter than my fellow preachers in the rotation. :p

But the real issue is doing justice to the text. I have to admit that I was a bit surprised by Galatians 3.6-9, since this is a chapter I’ve devoted extensive study to. I honestly didn’t really think it would be easy to come up with enough material for a sermon, but once again, I’ve not only come up with a rather long sermon, I haven’t managed to even go over every phrase directly.

So what’s so special about this passage?

At first, it looks fairly straightforward: Paul is telling the Galatians that justification is by faith; Abraham was justified by faith, as borne witness by Gen 15.6.

But a closer look uncovers rather a lot more. For starters, consider a couple of questions:

1. The immediate link in the text is between the Galatians’ experience of the Spirit and the counting of Abraham as righteous through faith. (This has led some people to pretty much equate the gift of the Spirit with justification.) What’s the nature of the link?

2. Genesis 15.6 occurs, not at the outset of Abraham’s walk with Yahweh, but several years in. But wait: Isn’t justification something that happens once, at the beginning?

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[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog Jan 11 2007]

In the face of a feminist culture, the Church struggles to respond in a biblical fashion. Of course, many virtually cave in to the surrounding ethos.

Others, however, resort to various levels of patriarchalism. Given the mess of our society, this can look quite attractive.

And I suppose that my own viewpoint would be considered patriarchalism of a sort, as well. It’s a tag I’ve been given by unbelieving folk, at any rate. I’m appalled by women who neglect their families for the sake of getting “fulfillment” through their careers, and by a great deal else that characterizes our culture. And on a more general level, I’m disturbed by women who talk like men, adopt manly mannerisms, and are offended if a man wishes to defer to them by opening a door.

Assumptions of Hyper-Patriarchalism

Still, there are some (to put it prejudicially) oddities out there on the “patriarchal” side of things – oddities frequently arising out of questionable assumptions or insufficient attention to biblical detail.

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[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog Jan 11 2007]

It is interesting to read this attempt at an alternative reading that will supposedly deflate the paedo case.

I have devoted an entire chapter to 1 Corinthians 11 in Feed My Lambs, as well as articles online, so I won’t explore all the facets here. But there are some pertinent things to say with regard to Clark’s post that I think I should address.

Note first of all that Clark frames things in a vertical versus horizontal/sociological cast. Now, this places a certain colour upon the discussion from the outset, since the implication is that the Church is simply a horizontally related body, an object of “mere sociology” (Clark’s own dismissive phrase).

But of course his opponents do not think that way at all. We believe, as Paul himself writes in the preceding chapter, that the bread and cup shared are our mutual participation in Christ Himself. The whole vertical/horizontal structure is suspect to begin with. While we clearly must distinguish Christ from His people, nonetheless Paul writes, the Church is Christ’s body, “the fullness of Him who fills all in all” (Eph 1.22-23). To speak of a Church-oriented interpretation as having to do with “mere sociology” is an affront, not merely to paedocommunion advocates, but to the Church of the living God.

Second, Clark correctly, but nonetheless rather astonishingly, writes this: “In its nature, the Supper is Christ’s covenant with his people.” That is exactly right, and follows very nicely from the analogy to Genesis 17. But I say it is astonishing, because if this is the case, Clark’s anti-paedocommunion position entails the denial of the covenant to the children of believers, whether elect or non-elect, regenerate or not. In effect, the covenant is for adults, or at least, those old enough to profess faith to his satisfaction. This is not the Reformed position, and never has been.

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[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog Nov 25 2006]

I’m working on finalizing tomorrow’s sermon on Gal 2.15-16. One of the things that I am arguing is that Paul is drawing upon an Isaianic context within which justification is seen as an eschatological event. This is based upon three Isaianic pillars: justification is in Yahweh (Is 45.25); the Servant will be justified (Is 50.8); and the Servant in turn will justify many (Is 53.11). Thus there is a justification that arises with the advent of the Servant.

Today, it occurs to me further that the biblical relationship between covenant and righteousness confirms this.

N. T. Wright has correctly identified Romans 4.11 as a gloss on Genesis 17.11. Whereas Genesis says that circumcision is a sign of the covenant, Paul says that God gave Abraham the sign of circumcision, epexegetically articulated as “a seal of the righteousness of the faith” Abraham had while still uncircumcised. Which all indicates that the justification-righteousness word complex – despite their disparity in English, these words are cognate in both Hebrew and Greek – is essentially covenantal in nature. (This, of course, is not to deny in any sense that justification is a forensic – legal, courtroom – term; it is only to clarify that the legal cast derives from the covenant. Hence the frequent observation by the commentators that the prophetic writings largely consist of “covenant lawsuits” by Yahweh over against His people, with the prophets acting in His stead somewhat along the lines of prosecuting attorneys.)

Now, the point with regard to the eschatological nature of justification is quite simple, and it assists us in seeing how it can be that there was both justification under the old covenant ; and yet, that the old covenant does not provide the justification which interests Paul. That Pauline justification draws upon the eschatology anticipated by the prophets, an eschatology which was inescapably concerned with the matter of justification.

On the one hand, the Servant in His individual manifestation (I qualify thus, because Isaiah shifts back and forth between individual and corporate senses) is only anticipated under the old covenant; thus the justification involving Him does not arrive until He arrives.

But then, also, the prophets identify the anticipated day as a new covenant (Jer 31.31-34). And if, as is suggested above, justification is covenantal, that would imply, quite by the nature of the case, that a new covenant would entail a new justification. (Indeed, Jer 31.34 itself speaks of a future forgiveness of sins in connection with the new covenant, even though there was clearly an individual forgiveness of sins already available at the time.)

When Paul says, therefore, that justification does not come through works of Torah (Gal 2.16), he is not merely saying that one cannot earn one’s own salvation by good works. That’s true enough; but it simply wasn’t an issue in context. Peter was neither thinking such nor implying such by his actions when he withdrew from table fellowship with the Gentiles, which is the issue in context (Gal 2.12).

Withdrawing from table fellowship is not a matter of merit legalism; it is a covenantal matter. Otherwise, Paul himself would be a merit legalist when he tells the Corinthians not to have table fellowship with those who are called brothers but are impenitent fornicators, covetous, idolaters, revilers, drunkards, or extortioners (1 Cor 5.11). The clear implication of that instruction is that those who practice such things are not covenantally faithful: they are unrighteous.

Thus, Peter’s fault is in no way oriented toward merit legalism; nor is it that he withdraws from table fellowship generally. Such withdrawal was mandated by Paul himself. The issue here is the covenantal basis of the withdrawal.

When Peter withdraws from table fellowship with believing Gentiles, he is identifying them as covenantally unrighteous. But of course, that judgment is not a valid judgment in terms of the new covenant, which has brought about a new justification apart from Torah; and in fact, Peter’s action places him – rather than the Gentiles whom he implicitly, even if unintentionally, judges – as condemned (Gal 2.11; the versions that render this “he was to be blamed” or “he was self-condemned” weaken the force of the original, which simply says that he was condemned). Christ has vindicated a community of Jew and Gentile, and by cutting himself off from that vindicated community, Peter was, in effect, cutting himself off from new covenant vindication itself. (My observation here is not intended to speak to Peter’s eternal standing – “If he died that day, he would have gone to hell!” I am simply pointing out the text’s own connections between condemnation in 2.12 and justification in 2.16, in terms of the argumentative context and biblical background.)

In sum, the expectation of what would happen to the Isaianic Servant (justification, which He in turn would share with others), as well as the expectation of a new covenant (and thus, a new justification), help us find our way in understanding the Pauline doctrine of justification. This doctrine does not countenance merit legalism, but neither is it raised within the context of that particular discussion. Rather, Paul is concerned to defend the definitive act which God has accomplished in vindicating His Servant, Jesus Christ, the Just One, and thus effecting an eschatological vindication for those in Him – a vindication of Jew and Gentile, and thus a vindication apart from Torah, which separated the two as a dividing wall.

[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog April 22 2006]

Nothing original for the blog, so here’s a bit of a piece I wrote in response to an English Baptist on a discussion forum. The overall topic was whether the Church is the new Israel, and whether old Israel was the Church. The gentleman I am responding to is focusing upon the issue of the Church not being the physical seed, which is all Israel was.

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Both above and later, you’re assuming that the issue is physical vs spiritual. That is a subtle but fundamental misreading of Paul. The issue is flesh vs Spirit, which is very different, having to do with the contrast between two ages, not a contrast between two metaphysical principles.

The New Testament has absolutely no qualms about extending spiritual promises to the children of believers. Children are raised and nurtured in the Lord, not into the Lord; Peter bears witness to the new covenant gift of the Spirit at Pentecost by upholding the ancient principle that the promise is to his hearers’ children – a statement that makes sense only within the context of the ancient promises, characterized by the classic covenantal principle, “I will be God to you and to your children after you.” If Peter is not reinforcing that, he has zero reason to say such a thing; and if he believes what you do, he has every reason not to.

The hermeneutic I’m hearing from you is, at its basis, afflicted with at least a touch of dualism, because it assumes that man’s problem has to do with physicality. Everything is made to denigrate physical descent.

The Bible’s analysis of the situation is quite different.

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[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog April 4 2006]

Romans 3.29-30: “Or is He the God of the Jews only? Is He not also the God of the Gentiles? Yes, of the Gentiles also, since there is one God who will justify the circumcised by faith and the uncircumcised through faith.”

Zechariah 14.9: “And Yahweh shall be King over all the earth. In that day it shall be: ‘Yahweh is one,’ and His name one.”

[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog March 22 2006]

I’ve talked about this before (albeit some time ago), but this week I have occasion to preach a sermon on part of this chapter (3.14-21 is the Gospel for the Lenten readings), so I’ll offer a few scattered reflections.

When Jesus announces rebirth/birth from above by the Spirit, He is – surprisingly enough – announcing what He calls “earthly things” (3.12). Yet these “earthly things” are themselves a mystery even to Nicodemus, who is (shall we say) sympathetic. Why? Because he is not yet born from above, and therefore cannot even see the kingdom of God (3.3).

I’ve waffled back and forth over whether “see” there is simply synonymous to “enter” in 3.5, but I think it is more basic than that. John, after all, frequently comments on the matters of sight and blindness; similarly, Jesus as “the Light” is a major theme, including in this very discourse (vv 19ff). Those not born from above cannot so much as recognize the kingdom (cf 1 Cor 2.14).

I’ve earlier commented on the fact that being “born by water and the Spirit” refers to water baptism (with a first referent to John) and Pentecost. It is by these means that the kingdom has come, and it seems unforeseen and unintelligible, even to Nicodemus.

But this is no surprise: that born from the flesh is flesh; that born from the Spirit is s/Spirit (3.6). This is a redemptive-historical, and not simply an individual, statement. The best of the saints living at Christ’s arrival were “flesh”; the opportunity had not yet come to be “born from above.”

It is my opinion that verse 8 is one of the most radically misunderstood verses in the passage. It is usually read along these lines: “The wind blows and you can’t see its origin or its destiny, and the Spirit is the same way.” But that is not what Jesus says. There is no comparative in the verse (“just as… even so”), and neither is it likely that the wind is referenced at all. At most, it is a resonance (something akin to Ezekiel 37, where Spirit, breath and wind are interchangeable. (In Greek, pneuma refers to all three: Spirit, breath, and wind.) Moreover, 8b is not strictly about the Spirit, but about the one born from the Spirit.

Again, Jesus has already just been talking about the Spirit (3.6: “That which has been born from the flesh is flesh, and that which has been born from the Spirit is spirit”). Verse 8 can be literally rendered, “The Spirit ‘spirits’/blows where He wills, and His sound you hear, but you do not know whence He comes and where He goes: thus is everyone who has been born from the Spirit.” Verse 8 is not a comparison, but an explanation: this is how the Spirit acts, and thus this is how those born from the Spirit have their existence.

The inexplicability of the birth into the kingdom stands in contrast to those born from the flesh. The members of the kingdom will not, as it turns out, simply be all the members of Israel head for head. The kingdom arrives and doesn’t simply incorporate the whole nation. Instead, the Spirit chooses whom He will, and brings them to baptism, and ultimately, to Pentecost.

Thus far, Jesus says He has been speaking of “earthly things” (3.12), as we noted. But now He speaks of heavenly: the Son of Man who ascends and descends with reference to heaven (3.13). Thus even more mysterious than the unpredictability of the Spirit’s kingdom work is Jesus’ own identity. But if this is a reference to the eternal existence of the Son of Man (as the language of descent would seem to imply), it also seems to be bound up with one strange form of ascent, as Jesus commences to speak of the Son of Man being “lifted up” (on the cross), with the result of giving eternal life to those who believe in Him (3.14-5).

3.16 is, of course, the most well-known verse in the Bible. God thus loved “the world,” that He gave His only-begotten Son, so that every one who believes in Him should not be destroyed but have eternal life. John has a very strong “world” (kosmos) theme, and it begins already in 1.9-10: “That was the true Light which gives light to every man coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through Him, and the world did not know Him” (there’s our “unseeing” theme again!).

Incidentally – is v 9 speaking of Jesus giving light to “every man who comes into the world,” or is it referring to the light coming into the world, giving light to every man? [The Greek nominative neuter participle - from "light" - is the same in form as the masculine accusative - which would correspond to "every man."] The latter, I suggest, is the point; since it is Jesus who is spoken of throughout John as “coming into the world.” This is cinched by our passage in 3.19: “And this is the condemnation, that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.”

John’s use of “world” seems self-contradictory to us. For example, the world is something that was made through the Word (1.10) and which is the object of God’s love (3.16), and Jesus gives His life for the life of the world (6.51) – and yet elsewhere it is the world that hates Jesus and His disciples (7.7; 15.18-9; 16.20), cannot receive the Spirit (14.17), and is about to be judged (12.31). Are these simply two radically different ways of using the same term?

I think the answer is yes and no. Keep in mind that kosmos is an order-word (I’ll explain a bit in a moment). We must hold together at least three things here: 1) the creation of the kosmos; 2) the fallenness of the kosmos as it now is; 3) the concept of two ages. In John’s usage, it seems to me that kosmos refers to the ordered reality of the first age, including its people. This ordered reality is thus corrupt and corruptible (i.e. subject to weakness and death), sinful – and also comprised of the very people Jesus came to save. Thus the negative and positive uses of the term are not entirely antithetical but complementary within a global concept of two ages, two orders.

(There is considerable overlap here with the term flesh in Paul – and to some degree, in John as well, as here in 3.6. Even Paul can use the flesh-terminology in a positive sense corresponding to John’s world-language: Christ is of the seed of David “according to the flesh,” for instance [Rom 1.3].)

Jesus comes simultaneously to judge and to save the world – and this is so, quite apart from the issue of condemnation. (Actually, Jesus says He does not come to “judge” the world in that sense – 3.17; 12.47 – although such condemnation is a by-product of His arrival: those who do not believe are indeed condemned: 3.18-19.) This is because Jesus is the bringer of the kingdom – that is, a new order of things, a new age. For “the world” to be saved, it needs to meet its “judgment” in the cross (12.31). As the same verse notes, this “judgment” upon the world involves the “casting out” of the “ruler of this world.” In other words, the Satan can only have power to rule in the kosmos, not the kingdom. So the judgment of the world in Christ’s flesh (and I use that term in its fullest sense) amounts to the defeat of Satan: “the world” that believes in Christ passes from being kosmos and thus out of Satan’s dominion.

Anyway, we have now wandered a bit astray from John 3. Returning there, with regard to the earlier concept of “not seeing”: the point is that those who have not yet been born of the Spirit remain fully within the kosmos. As such, because they are fully in the first age, they cannot “see” the kingdom.

(Jesus will later tell His disciples that they are “not of the world” [e.g. 15.19], even though He has not yet died, nor has the Spirit come. That may seem a bit of an anomaly, but not really, since Jesus is present, and He also distinguishes between how the Spirit is present with the disciples, but will be in them [14.17]. Perhaps we might say that those who believe upon Christ prior to His death, resurrection, and Pentecost, have been given authority to become the sons of God, but have not yet entered fully into that sonship; cf 1.12.)

With regard to 3.16, however, we see God’s love for the world. He sends His Son to judge the world in His own self-giving death, which will in fact be life for the world. The judgment upon the world will be a sort of destruction (in Christ), but that will be the necessary abolition which provides the possibility of resurrection. Thus the only-begotten Son finds the “destruction” that those who believe in Him may not. (In 3.16, we usually translate the word perish, but less arcane language, it means destruction. Sometimes, abandoning an archaic term will help us hear something afresh.)

So, as John the Baptizer preached, the coming of the Son of Man into the world is judgment (“the axe is laid to the root of the trees” etc). And yet that judgment will not entail destruction for those who believe in the Son of Man. That is the good news of the kingdom, a kingdom which is entered by water and by the Spirit.

Well, that is enough for tonight. Perhaps there will be more to come; we’ll see.