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In looking again at Leviticus 8, I noticed that in the baptism>anointing sequence, only Aaron gets anointed at first. Then, after the sin offering and ascension offerings are completed, not only Aaron but also his sons are anointed.

That fascinates me in connection with the sequence of things in the Gospels and Acts. Jesus is baptized by John and immediately anointed by the Spirit. But while many others are baptized, both by John and by Jesus’ disciples, no one else gets anointed.

Jesus becomes the sin offering on the cross and completes His role of ascension offering when He ascends to heaven. It is only then, after the completion of the sin and ascension offerings, that He pours out the Spirit and the “sons” are anointed.

One of Peter Leithart’s chief insights is that a priest is a palace servant.

In preparing a sermon on Lord’s Day 12 for this Sunday (by way of Revelation 1 – which, by the way, focuses upon God’s people as servants in 1.1 and as a priesthood in 1.7), this got me reflecting on the question of how the high priest relates to this. If a priest is a palace servant, what is a “high” palace servant?

This in turn led me to think about the predominant Servant theme in Isaiah, a rabbit trail that turned out to be helpful, although I’m not entirely sure yet where to go with it. (more…)

The links between David and Christmas are clear enough on the surface of the various texts. It is after all an event that happens in Bethlehem, the city of David, and Joseph and Mary are there precisely because Joseph is of David’s lineage (Lk 2.4).

But as well as what is quite explicit, there are also other undertones and overtones from the David story.

For overtones, we can simply note that just as God passed over the “obvious” choices among Jesse’s sons in favour of the shepherd boy, so too God passes over the “obvious” choices regarding whom will receive the proclamation of the birth of the Messiah, and sends His army to make the royal announcement to… a bunch of shepherds.

Undertones: In Matthew 2, we find Herod making the mothers of Bethlehem childless; in the few verses immediately preceding the record of David’s anointing, we find Samuel hacking Agag of Amalek to pieces with the words, “As your sword has made women childless, so shall your mother be childless among women” (1 Sam 15.33). The connection gives us a pretty good idea what is going to happen to Herod very shortly, and so we are not surprised to learn of his death not far down the road.

I’ve long held that Romans 11 promises a future conversion for “all Israel” – i.e. the preponderance of the people. (See esp my essay here: http://www.biblicalstudiescenter.org/interpretation/rom11_26.htm as well as my forthcoming essay in the James Jordan festschrift which is in the works.)

But I’ve largely remained indifferent to whether there remains a future land promise (built e.g. on Gen 12 and a host of related passages), and I’m more than wary of Zionism, which I take to be a very misguided attempt to manufacture a fulfillment of God’s promises without understanding either the promises or the corollary conditions.

I still don’t claim to have a settled position on the land issue. But I was forced to lean toward it when I was struck recently by how much sense it would make. After all:

1. We know that a whole host of Israelites have savingly believed God over the years, both before and after the advent of Christ.
2. We believe in the resurrection of the body, not an eternal state of disembodied “spirituality.”
3. Correspondingly, we believe in the renovation of the earth, just as we believe in the renovation of the body.
4. Surely a renovated earth would have geography, and since the renovation is a renovation of this earth, it seems at least plausible – nay, overwhelmingly likely – that the new earth will have the land of Canaan.
5. Since everyone has to live somewhere – why wouldn’t believing Israelites live in Palestine? Why should that be thought the least bit “strange”?

…to Lisa Miller of Newsweek.

It’s beyond amazing what sort of gall both Miller and her editor displayed in this.

Vote with your pocketbook, is all I say. The media is becoming rapidly more contemptible and corrupt (and it wasn’t starting from a very high point to begin with).

Has it ever struck you that the culmination of the wall of Jerusalem going up in Nehemiah 12 is a great music procession (12.27-43)?

Surely this is intended as a reversal of the wall of Jericho going down in response to a great music procession.

This correspondence is drawn closer by the fact that the procession in Nehemiah comes at the dedication of the wall. To my knowledge, no city or its walls had been dedicated (consecrated) before. That is a form of setting apart (sanctifying to Yahweh’s use).

Or rather, one city had been so set apart previously.

Jericho.

The other cities of Canaan were given to Israel to plunder for themselves, but Jericho was the “firstborn,” as it were, set apart for God. The city itself became a sort of ascension offering (otherwise known as a burnt offering); it was burned along with everything in it (Josh 6.24), with the exception of the silver, gold and vessels of metal, which were put into Yahweh’s treasury. Jericho was devoted (a city of cherem, sometimes translated along the lines of “accursed,” but the fundamental meaning is devotion) to Yahweh, which was why Achan’s theft of its treasures was dealt with so severely. (And also, incidentally, why his punishment took the specific form it did in Josh 7.25. Just as Jericho was “stoned” with its own walls and burned with fire, so Achan and his family, who had apparently been in collusion with him, were stoned with stones and burned with fire. By laying hold of the devoted things, the things of cherem, Achan also became cherem.)

Leithart points out that in Nehemiah 12, the whole city of Jerusalem has become “the house of God” (see 12.40). This is confirmed by the anomalous dedication (anomalous in the sense that this was normally something done to the temple or its vessels, not to a city or its walls), as well as by the fact that the returnees from Babylon are chosen by lot to be tithed to God to live in Jerusalem (Neh 11.1-2).

I believe there is a strong correspondence between that “tithing” event and the choice of the Levites to serve as the firstborn in Numbers 3.40-45. (Note again that the “firstborn” in Numbers 3 are set over against the destroyed firstborn of Egypt; a further suggestion that we are on the right track in seeing the chosen in Nehemiah as being set over against the destroyed “devoted” population of Jericho.)

I’m sure that it would be fruitful to reflect further upon this correspondence between Jericho’s destruction and Jerusalem’s rebuilding….

I’m a member of a Christian forum where someone cited an online article, claiming that the “revival” of c. 1907 was dead, because it became institutionalized.

As one who grew up within Pentecostal revivalism, I know these matters from the inside out: My father was as anti-institutional as nearly anyone of his generation of Pentecostals. He was usually suspicious of local churches, and downright hostile to denominations.

But the problem runs even deeper than anti-institutionalism; the theology of revivalism (insofar as it has unique theology) is fundamentally problematic. Here is what I wrote in response to the forum post. (more…)

We had a sermon today on Achan (Joshua 7), and during the process I began reflecting on the connections between Achan and Jericho.

Of course, the connection is immediate: Achan’s transgression was to take “the devoted things” from Jericho for himself. But there is more to it than that.

(more…)

It has been well-noted that the return of the ark from Philistia replete with gifts is an exodus story. And of course, there are numerous parallels between the Philistines and the Egyptians (actually, the Philistines were descendants of Mizraim = Egypt). Just as God sent plagues upon Egypt, He sent plagues upon Philistia and showed His judgment over its gods. As with Israel emerging from Egypt with all sorts of valued goods of the Egyptians, the Philistines sent the ark back to Israel with valuable gifts.

All of that, therefore, is a given and important. However, it must be recognized that 1 Samuel treats the departure of the ark from Israel to Philistia in the first place under an exodus motif, as well.

In a recent Bible study discussion, we noted that at key points in redemptive history (i.e. at the introduction of a new covenant), God sent “multi-office” figures who served not only in kingly/ “judgely” roles, but also in priestly and prophetic ones: Abraham, Moses, Samuel.

But there are further (disturbing) parallels between Moses and Samuel. Like Moses, Samuel was given up by his mother to live in the house of the leader of the land. Yes, that’s exactly what I am implying: Eli serves in parallel to Pharaoh. Now, of course, Eli in some respects fears God – he at least rebukes his sons. However, when push comes to shove, like Pharaoh, Eli does not fear God. That in fact is what the man of God suggests to Eli: Eli does not honour God, but despises Him (1 Sam 2.30). It seems clear that though Eli rebuked his sons, he was willing to become heavy (“glorious”) from the food they had stolen from Yahweh’s offerings. Thus, just as Pharaoh refused to allow Israel to worship Yahweh in the way He had commanded, Eli, through his sons, disallow Israel from worshipping rightly, as well, by stealing the Lord’s portion (1 Sam 2.13-17).

What all this means is that the departure of the ark from the possession of Eli’s house is an act of exodus. Yahweh’s presence – the place of the cloud of glory which accompanied Israel at the Egyptian exodus – goes up from the presence of this new Pharaoh, and as it turns out, the Philistines treat Yahweh’s ark with more reverence and good sense than Eli’s own house had done. (They at least sent the ark back with a guilt offering.)

[Note: This material is also posted on the Biblical Horizons blog.]

In our previous post, we examined the sundry texts from which Paul quotes in his great catena of quotations in Rom 3.10-18. But the thought unit is not yet complete; Paul makes his assessment of the implications in 3.19-20. This followup makes Paul’s intent clearer, although it is frequently misread (verse 19, in particular; I think this is likely also the case with verse 20, but my understanding of the verse is still being formed).

(more…)

[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?

(more…)

[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.

(more…)

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).

(more…)

[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.

(more…)

[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 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.

[Originally posted on my Rabbisaul blog Jan 25 2006]

Tonight I’m leading a Bible study on Peter Leithart’s excellent book, A House for My Name. We are dealing with two books which refer to the exilic time period: Daniel and Esther.

Although the general assumption is that Mordecai acts faithfully throughout the book, Leithart suggests otherwise. He believes that unlike Daniel and company, Mordecai has not submitted properly to the will of Yahweh in connection with “the times of the Gentiles.” Leithart adds that Mordecai’s mourning in sackcloth and ashes in 4.1-3 is an act of repentance.

Here is a summary of what Leithart considers to be evidence of Mordecai’s unfaithfulness:

1. Mordecai’s name, which means something like “worshipper of Marduk,” a god of Babylon

2. Mordecai’s instructions to Esther to keep her identity known; he should have encouraged confession of Yahweh and His people

3. Mordecai’s failure to bow before Haman is an act of disobedience to the authority God has established over Israel (note: it was not impermissible to bow before rulers, and faithful people throughout Scripture did so – e.g. both Bathsheba and Nathan the prophet bow before David in 1 Kg 1.16, 23).

4. Leithart also suggests that Mordecai wanted Esther to be queen so that he himself could have more power.

These are interesting observations, and I don’t claim I can explain every difficulty with regard to Mordecai’s actions. Nonetheless, at this point I do not find the above line of reasoning compelling. Taking up the above observations in order:

1. While Mordecai’s name is interesting, and could be telling where other evidence of unfaithfulness is strong, I’m not at all sure much weight can be given it. In fact, the parallel with Daniel suggests just the opposite. As we know from Daniel, numerous Jews had been renamed by the Babylonians, including all four of the principal players in the book: Daniel himself (who is called Belteshazzar), Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego – all names derived from Mesopotamian gods, replacing El and Yah based names. In fact, Belteshazzar is based upon Bel (“may Bel protect his life”) – another name for Marduk. Since Esther is set in the Persian period, the renaming has likely already taken place, and Mordecai’s name in no way demonstrates that either he or his family are devoted to Marduk rather than Yahweh. (Cf our own usage of days of the week with names rooted in pagan mythology.)

2. While Mordecai instructs Esther to maintain her identity as a secret, his own clearly is not, since Haman knows that the one who refuses to bow to him is a Jew, which is after all what provokes the decree for destruction. Hence, whatever Mordecai’s motive in calling for secrecy on Esther’s part, it doesn’t seem to be one of any general wish to fail to confess Israel and her God.

3. With regard to the authority issue, (1) is it settled that Mordecai ought to have done obeisance to an Amalekite? and (2) Mordecai’s foiling of the plot against Ahasuerus already in 2.19ff indicates that he was indeed seeking the well-being of the king God had placed in authority.

4. I don’t think it is at all clear that Mordecai is seeking personal power in desiring Esther’s queenship. Rather the opposite, it seems to me that the very fact that Mordecai instructs Esther not to make her people or family known (2.10) indicates that he really had no such concern.

As to 4.1-3, I don’t see any sign that the sackcloth and ashes are those of repentance for previous sin. The text seems completely consonant with acts of mourning elsewhere whenever disaster strikes, and there is no hint that Mordecai sees himself as having done wrong, as far as I can see. It is not his sin, but the fact that Mordecai has “learned all that happened” (i.e. the decree of destruction) that causes Mordecai to weep. And although disaster often occasions repentance in Scripture, that simply is left unmentioned here, which is odd if that is the real issue.

I’d be interested in hearing the thoughts of readers, whether in support of Leithart’s thesis, or in corrective dialogue with it.