Friday, December 13
Revelation 18:1-20: This chapter deals with the city of sin, Babylon. It is not a prophecy of the downfall of Rome, such as that of A.D. 410 for instance, but an affirmation of hope for the downfall of what the pagan Roman Empire stood for.
In this vision a bright angel is seen; the very earth is illumined by his brightness. He appears with a message of concern for everyone who suffers oppression. His message (verse 2) is a direct quotation from Isaiah 21:9, and the imagery reminds us of the overthrow of Sodom and Gomorrah. The overthrow of this city is related to its place in the world of economics and commerce (verse 3), which John sees to be idolatrous (cf. Colossians 3:5).
John’s complaint against the economic and commercial idolatry of his time should be regarded against the background of the Bible’s prophetic literature, especially the prophecies of Amos and Isaiah, who spoke out frequently against the unjust practices of the business world that they knew: price fixing, monopoly, widespread unemployment, and so forth. Actually, such considerations are among the most common in the Bible.
John’s exhortation is that the believers get out of Babylon (verse 4), which is a direct quotation from Jeremiah 51:45. In that latter text the Jews were being exhorted to flee Babylon so as not to share in that ancient city’s peril. “Going out of” a place in order not to share its destruction is a theme that appears rather often in Holy Scripture. One thinks of Noah and his sons “getting out” by building the Ark, for instance. Lot and his family are led out of Sodom by the angels, and the Israelites flee Egypt, and so forth. In Chapter 12 the woman in heaven was given two eagle’s wings so that she could flee to the desert, and in the gospels Jesus tells His disciples to flee Jerusalem prior to its destruction. The spiritual message in all this is that those who belong to Christ must put some distance between themselves and those elements of existence that are inimical to man (cf. John 17:6,11,14-16).
And why is the fall of Babylon so bad? Because it is bad for business! Babylon’s overthrow means very low profits on the stock market. Verses 12-13 list various products that won’t sell any more. The “futures” in frankincense and chariots are down by sixteen points, and the shekel is in free fall!
Everyone calls it a “crisis,” and they are right. In fact, John uses the Greek word krisis (“judgment”) to describe it (verse 10). The crash, when it comes, comes quickly, in a single hour (verses 10,17,19). John says that those who weep over Babylon do so from a distance (verse 10). That is, Babylon has mourners, but no helpers. At this final hour of her career, no one will stand with her. No one wants to be associated with her. She was part of an order in which true friendship had no place. It was an order founded on shared interests and profits, not on love. Babylon is bewailed, not for herself, but for her lost investments. In short, the fall of Babylon is bad for business, and John borrows heavily from Isaiah 23 and Ezekiel 27 in order to describe her plight.
We observe that John does not see Babylon fall. An angel tells him that it has already happened. John, that is to say, has no violent vision. There is no projection, here, of a vindictive spirit; it is, rather, the divine resolution of a cosmic problem. The fall of Babylon is not seen; it is revealed to John in a vision of light. John is not interested in revenge but in justice, in the setting right of the world order, and the right order of the world requires the overthrow of Babylon and idolatry, and materialism, and the hedonism for which Babylon stands as a symbol.
Saturday, December 14
Luke 23.50-56: Although the canonical Gospels agree that Jesus was buried by Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Sanhedrin, Joseph himself is variously portrayed by the four inspired writers. Mark (15:43) and Luke (23:51) describe him as someone who “was waiting for the kingdom of God,” an expression which, taken without context, might indicate no more than that Joseph was a devout Jew. (I will argue presently that it does mean more.)
Luke, in today’s reading, adds that Joseph, though a member of the Sanhedrin, had not consented to its plot against Jesus. Matthew (27:57) and John (19:38) are more explicit about Joseph’s faith, both of them calling him a “disciple”—that is, a Christian—though John observes that he was so “secretly, for fear of the Jews.”
In their slightly differing descriptions, the evangelists were arguably portraying Joseph at somewhat different stages of his “spiritual pilgrimage,” to use the customary expression. If this is the case, then it appears that the death of Jesus, the very hour of his apparent failure and defeat, was the occasion Joseph chose for getting really serious in his commitment, going public about his Christian discipleship. He approached Pontius Pilate—“boldly,” says Mark—and asked for the body of Jesus.
This Joseph, precisely because he “waited for the kingdom of God,” had intended to be buried, not in Ramathaim, his native village, but in Jerusalem itself. The grand prophecies of messianic restoration, after all, especially those of Ezekiel and Zechariah, were centered in Jerusalem.
Accordingly, in the holy city, Joseph had purchased for himself a special burial vault that was situated, says John (18:41–42), in a garden not far from where Jesus had died. According to Matthew and Mark, this tomb was carved out of solid rock. Luke and John both mention that it was “new,” in the sense that the vault contained no other burials. This elaborate arrangement suggests that Joseph of Arimathea was a man of some means. Indeed, Matthew (27:57) explicitly records that he was rich. This detail is, furthermore, of theological significance, because God’s Suffering Servant, according to prophecy, was to be buried “with the rich” (Isaiah 53:9).
Luke features certain parallels between the account of Joseph of Arimathea and the infancy narrative, near either end of his Gospel. First, of course, a Joseph is prominent in each story. Second, in each account the naked, helpless body of Jesus is decently wrapped (2:7, 12; 23:53).
Third, Luke’s portrayal of Joseph is similar to his description of Simeon, who welcomed the newborn Jesus on His first visit to the temple (2:25). Thus, both stories begin with “and behold” (kai idou). Both men are called “just” (dikaios), and both are said to be “waiting.” Simeon is “waiting for the Consolation of Israel,” and Joseph is “waiting for the Kingdom of God.” This complex set of parallels establishes a literary inclusion in the Lukan structure.
In all of the Gospels, Joseph’s actions are contrasted with those of the other members of the Sanhedrin. Whereas they blindfolded, mocked, and abused Jesus, Joseph treats even his dead body with dignity and respect. Although executed criminals were often buried in a common grave, or even left as carrion for wild beasts, Joseph carefully places the body of Jesus in a special tomb, a place befitting the dignity of the coming Resurrection.
Sunday, December 15
Luke 1.39-56: In the year 1557 William Whittingham became the first biblical scholar to introduce verse-divisions into his English translation of the New Testament.
Today’s Gospel reading, from the first chapter of Luke, Whittingham divided into 18 verses,11 which contain the song of Mary, popularly named—for its first word in Latin—the Magnificat.
These eleven verses are by far the largest record of what the Mother of Jesus had to say on this earth. Luke elsewhere speaks twice of what Mary “pondered in her heart.” In these eleven verses, we gain some sense of the contents of that heart.
I am not the first Christian to advance such an idea.C oncerning the Magnificat, we may read a few lines from a letter written to Frederick, the Duke of Saxony, on March 10, 1521. It is the exhortation of a fairly famous priest, who writes to instruct the Duke on the proper responsibilities of a Christian leader. He writes,
Therefore all rulers, since they need not fear men, should fear God more than others do, should learn to know Him and His works, nd walk diligently, as St. Paul says, “He that rules, let him do it with diligence.”
Now I do not know, in all the Scriptures, anything that so well serves such a purpose as this sacred hymn of the most blessed Mother of God, which, indeed, ought to be learned and kept in mind by all who would rule well and be beneficial lords.
Truly she sings, in it, most sweetly of the fear of God, what manner of lord He is, and especially what His dealings are with those of high and of low degree. This pure Virgin well deserves to be heard by a prince and lord, as she chants her sacred, chaste and salutary song.
May the tender Mother of God, herself, procure for me the spirit of wisdom, profitably and thoroughly to expound this song of hers, so that your Grace, as well as we all, may draw from it wholesome knowledge and a praiseworthy life, and thus come to chant and sing this Magnificat eternally in heaven. Unto this may God help us. Amen.
Martin Luther wrote these words on March 10, 1521, exactly 66 days after his excommunication by Pope Leo X.
Monday, December 16
Matthew 24.1-14: In all three of the Synoptic Gospels there is an eschatological discourse serving as the link between the public teaching of Jesus and the account of his Passion. Each of these discourses predicts the coming destruction of the Temple. Indeed, it was this prediction that provided the accusations brought forth at his trial before the Sanhedrin, and it was the subject of the jeers that his enemies hurled at him as he hung on the cross. Moreover, the position occupied by our Lord’s prophecy here indicates the relationship between the death of Jesus and the downfall of Jerusalem.
Revelation 19:1-10: The previous chapter spoke of the destruction of Babylon, pictured as a woman dressed in scarlet. The present chapter speaks of a contrasting woman, dressed in white, who is called the Bride. A wedding is planned. There is no vision of the Bride just yet, however, nor does John specifically identify her. He will see and describe her in Chapter 21.
We begin the chapter with the “Alleluia.” Although our own experience may prompt us to associate that fine prayer with the sight and scent of lilies, here in Revelation it resounds against the background of smoke rising from a destroyed city. The worship scene portrayed here is related to victory over the forces of hell. The word “avenge” at the end of verse 2 reminds us there is a principle of vengeance built into the theological structure of history, for the judgments of God are true and righteous. Sodom and Gomorrah come to mind when we read of this smoke ascending for ever and ever. The worship becomes so warm at verse 6 that Handel decided to set it to music.
By portraying the reign of God as a marriage feast, John brings together three themes, all of them familiar to the Christians of his day: First, the kingdom of God as a banquet, such as we find in Isaiah 25:6. Jesus interpreted the banquet, however, as a marriage feast (Luke 14:15-16). John stresses readiness for the feast (verse 7), much as we find in the parable of the ten maidens at the beginning of Matthew 25.
Second, the marriage theme itself, as a symbol of the union of God with man. We find this theme in the prophets (most notably Hosea, but also Isaiah and Jeremiah) and the New Testament (Ephesians 5:32, for instance). The Lamb, who is the groom here, has already been identified earlier in Revelation.
Third, the theme of the garments, which now become the clothing required for attendance at the feast. John has appealed to this imagery several times already (3:4; 6:11; 7:14). The identification of the white garments with righteous deeds puts one in mind of the parable in Matthew 22:11-13.
Tuesday, December 17
Revelation 19:11-21: The chapter continues on a different theme, warfare (verses 11-21). Jesus, pictured before as the Lamb, is here portrayed as a warrior on a white destrier. The emphasis is on His vindication of justice, the motif with which the chapter began. He is called “faithful and true,” adjectives referring to Him in 3:14. These adjectives should be considered especially in the context of martyrdom. That is to say, when a person is about to die a terrible death for the name of Jesus, “faithful and true” are the words he needs to know with respect to Jesus. Like the martyrs, Jesus is here clothed in white. His eyes (verse 12) are flames of fire, much as in John’s inaugural vision (1:12-16). His garment (verse 13) is spattered with blood, a detail we saw in 14:18-20. The literary inspiration of this portrayal is the canticle in Isaiah 63:1-3.
One of the Christological titles found here is “king of kings and lord of lords,” a title going back to the ancient Assyrian emperors, who were kings ruling over other kings. John tells us that this title appears on the “thigh,” of the Rider on the white horse. The thigh here is the place of the scabbard, where the sword hangs. It was common in antiquity to speak of the thigh as the place of the sword. With regard to Achilles, for example, Homer wrote: “And anger came on Peleus’s son, and within his shaggy breast the heart was divided two ways, pondering whether to draw from his thigh the sharp sword, driving away all those who stood between and kill the son of Atreus, or else to check his spleen within and keep down his anger” (Iliad 1.188-192). The same idiom is found in the Odyssey 11.231 and the Aeneid 10.788.
The exact idiom is likewise biblical; “Gird your sword on your thigh, every one of you,” commanded Moses to the Levites (Exodus 32:27). The expression occurs twice in Judges 3 and in Psalms 45 (44):3. Finally, in the Song of Solomon there is a description of the sixty valiant men around the king, “each with his sword upon his thigh, against alarms by night” (3:8). The title on the Warrior’s thigh, then, is inscribed on His scabbard.
The sword itself, however, is described as coming forth from His mouth, as in John’s inaugural vision in the first chapter. This image, of course, identifies the sword with the word, as in Hebrews 4:12 and Ephesians 6:17. The image of God’s word as a sword seems to have been very common among the early Christians, so we are not surprised to see it here. The Rider Himself is called “the Word of God,” in the only instance of this expression with reference to Jesus outside of the beginning of John’s Gospel.
The summoning of the scavenger birds in verse 17 is reminiscent of Ezekiel 39, which describes the defeat of the armies of Gog.
Wednesday, December 18
1 Thessalonians 1.1-10: Today we begin what appears to be the earliest extant work of Christian literature: “Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy, to the church of the Thessalonians in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”
Paul had arrived in Macedonia with Luke, Timothy, and Silas (or Silvanus) during the summer of A.D. 49 (Acts 16:9–12). This region he began evangelizing at Philippi, “the chief city in that part of Macedonia and a colony.” In spite of difficulties, including a night in jail, a Christian congregation was established at Philippi, but Paul was obliged to leave abruptly (16:40).
It is at this point in the narrative in Acts that the writer changes his address from “we” to “they,” showing that the writer, Luke, has been left at Philippi to pastor the congregation there. Eight years later, still at Philippi, we shall find Luke once again joining Paul’s company for the trip to Jerusalem (20:6).
When Paul left Philippi so abruptly in the year 49, Silas and (it would seem) Timothy came with him. They proceeded southwest along the Egnatian Road, one of the great arteries that held the Roman Empire together.
A day or two and some thirty miles later, Paul’s party came to Amphipolis (Acts 17:1), about three miles inland from the sea, at the point where, Herodotus tells us (History 7.114), the Persian emperor Xerxes had crossed the River Strymon in 480 B.C., on his way down to the Battle of Thermopylae. As Paul and Silas came near Amphipolis, they could not help but notice beside the road the large statue of a lion that had already stood in that place for nearly 500 years. It was a monument erected there to commemorate the victory of the Athenians over the Edoni in 437 B.C., and today’s visitors to northern Greece still stop to admire and photograph it, almost two and a half millennia after that battle.
Paul and his company, proceeding almost directly south the next day, and still walking parallel to the coast, arrived in Apollonia, whence they proceeded due west to Thessalonica some 38 miles away (Acts 17:1). It would have required the gift of long-range prophecy for Paul to know, on that day, how important his arrival at Thessaloniki would prove to be in the course of the next 20 centuries.
Paul and the others promptly preached the gospel and established a local church at Thessaloniki. Indeed, “promptly” is definitely the word we want here, because after only three weeks they were run out of town! (cf. Acts 17:2). When physical danger obliged them to sneak away during the night (17:10), Paul and his company were doubtless very discouraged. They had hardly had time, in less than a month, properly to catechize Jason and the other new converts. These, in fact, were already beginning to suffer persecution for the sake of the Christian faith (17:5–9; 1 Thessalonians 1:6).
As he continued his missionary journey, first to Berea, then to Athens, and then to Corinth, Paul remained concerned about those new Thessalonian Christians. Early in Paul’s stay at Corinth, Timothy and Silas returned from Macedonia (1 Thessalonians 3:6), bringing news and also certain questions from those new Christians whom he had had so little time to evangelize properly. The fruit of his concern is found in two epistles that he wrote to them during the ensuing eighteen months that he spent at Corinth, between early 50 and mid-51 (Acts 18:11).
In these two epistles, Paul mainly answered the questions put to him by the Thessalonians through his envoys Silas (Silvanus) and Timothy. (This is why he included them as co-authors.) Paul endeavored to fill in some important details about Christian life and doctrine, details that his brief stay in the city had caused him to neglect. These two epistles thus served to strengthen the faith and commitment of the Thessalonians.
However difficult and unpromising may have seemed the origins of the church of the Thessalonians, the congregation was there to stay, and the history of that apostolic church is an ongoing tale of glory. All of us, moreover, have been well served by those two epistles, the earliest writings to be included in the New Testament.
Thursday, December 19
1 Thessalonians 2:1-12: Throughout the short time he was among them (just three weeks, according to Acts 17:2), Paul had been completely sincere with the Thessalonians; he had not spoken to them with flattery (kolakeia). He had sought neither human approval (anthropois areskontes) nor human praise (ex anthropon doxsa); his preaching was never “a cloak for covetousness” (pleonexsia). He had used no deceit (dolos). On the contrary, Paul insisted, he had preached the “Gospel of God” in its integrity, not contaminated by insincerity (akatharsia).
The Apostle had reason to be sensitive on this matter. Not long before his arrival at Thessaloniki, he had witnessed the spiritual harm that befell the church at Antioch when some preachers and pastors behaved with duplicity and dissimulation.
The church at Antioch, we recall, was the first in which both Jews and Gentiles were “integrated” into a single congregation, an integration made possible by their abandoning the Mosaic ritual and dietary rules; this permitted all the congregation to eat at a common table
Such a discipline, based on the Gospel itself, allowed the church at Antioch to serve as a model for the rest of the churches throughout the Mediterranean Basin and beyond; Indeed, Antioch became the major missionary hub for the evangelization of the Greek-speaking world (Acts 13:1-3; 14:26-28).
Moreover, the Antiochian standard had received the official approval of the church leadership in Jerusalem, including Peter (Galatians 2:9; cf. Acts 15:1-21).
However, at some point before Paul’s next missionary trip (including to Thessaloniki), this entire project was put in peril and nearly sabotaged, when certain Christians from Jerusalem arrived at Antioch, insisting on the full observance of the Mosaic precepts. Except for Paul, it appears, much of the local leadership gave way to this new pressure, thereby endangering the integrity of the congregation and betraying the Gospel itself. Among the leaders thus compromised were Barnabas and Peter.
Paul’s reaction was swift and decisive: “But when Peter was come to Antioch, I withstood him to the face, because he was to be blamed. . . . And the other Jews dissembled likewise with him; insomuch that Barnabas also was carried away with their hypocrisy (hypocrisis)” (Gal 2:11,13). This incident was still a fresh memory when, a few months later, Paul founded the church at Thessaloniki.
It is instructive to reflect that Paul speaks of “hypocrisy” in this setting, the same word used in the gospels to describe Jesus’ denunciation of the Pharisees. In both cases, the word identifies a bad conscience, a failure in “good faith,” the attempt to deceive by rhetorical obfuscation, and the introduction of logical legerdemain for the purpose of confusion.
When deception and bad faith form the motive, recourse to distinctions, which genuine philosophers employ to clarify a subject, serve instead to disguise sophistry and introduce fallacies. Those who practice this art of deception declare such things as, “Whosoever shall swear by the temple, it is nothing; but whosoever shall swear by the gold of the temple, he is liable!”
Distressed to discover such deceit among the spiritual leaders at Antioch, Paul was determined that it should never be a quality of his own ministry.
Paul continues to speak of his own conscience in the Holy Spirit–“… we speak, not as pleasing men, but God, who tests our hearts. . . . God is witness” (verses 4-5). Paul’s behavior was, in fact, being challenged by his opponents. He was being likened to other itinerant preachers who made their living by spreading new and interesting ideas.
Such itinerant preachers were much common in the ancient world. One such group was the cynics, criticized by Dio Chrysostom (AD 40-112, and therefore somewhat contemporary with Paul) for their “error, impurity, and deception.” All of these charges were directed at Paul himself (verses 3-6). Dio Chrysostom goes on to say that a true philosopher should be “gentle as a nurse.” This is exactly how Paul describes himself (verse 7). In addition, Paul appeals to the memory of the Thessalonians themselves with respect to his recent ministry in their city (verses 1,2,5,9,10).
The Thessalonians could be witness of Paul only up to a point, however. The real Paul they could not see. Inside Paul was the plerophoria effected by the Holy Spirit. This was his “complete assurance,” known only to God, so it is to God Himself that Paul appealed as the Judge of his conscience, no matter what others might think of him.
The idea of living under God’s scrutiny was important to Paul’s psychology. He was persuaded that a man was not defiled by what entered him from without, but only by what came from inside, from the heart (cf. Mark 7:14-23). The Apostle rather frequently appeals to God’s inner witnessing (2 Corinthians 1:23; Romans 1:9). His mentality seems dominated by the awareness of God’s inner judgment over him.
Friday, December 20
1 Thessalonians 2:13-20: Speaking for himself and his companions, Paul begins these verses by declaring that they “give thanks”— evcharistoumen (see the root of “eucharist”), and they do so “without interruption” (adialeptos). That is to say, they make thanksgiving to God so frequent an act that it has become habitual.
The habit of thanksgiving is not simply “a feeling of gratitude.” Strictly speaking, thanksgiving is not a feeling at all. It is an act, and when it is done with sufficiency and force, it begins to shape the contours of the soul. By and by the heart is changed; the mind adopts a different attitude toward life. He begins to served God “in newness of mind.”
For Paul and his company, there was always adequate reason to thank God. Their reason in the present context is the example and zeal of the Thessalonian Christians, none of whom had been Christians two years earlier. This was a rough process, because of the opposition from the local synagogue (verse 14). Prior to the arrival of Paul and his company, these new Thessalonian Christians had belonged to that synagogue, whether as members or as Gentile “God-fearers.”
Paul’s team, at that time, were lodging in the home of a local Jew named Jason, one of the first of the Christian converts in Thessaloniki. Some of the Jews who resisted that Gospel reacted violently against those Jews convinced by the power of the Gospel. They “set all the city in an uproar and attacked the house of Jason, and sought to bring them out to the people. But when they did not find them, they dragged Jason and some brethren to the rulers of the city” (Acts 17.5-6). The new Christians were accused of being enemies of the Roman state. Jason and the others were released only after paying bail or a fine (Acts 16,9). All of these things had transpired over a span of only three weeks!
Paul likens the trials of these new Christians to the sufferings of the many biblical prophets, nearly all of whom had been resisted by rebellious Jews in their own day.
This is the context in which Paul insists that he did not preach his own word (verse 13). He contended, in fact, that the Apostles themselves were relatively unimportant (1 Corinthians 3:5-9), and he insisted that the Gospel was not his to change (Galatians 1:6-9).
The Gospel means “good news,” but not “news” in the same way that the newspaper gives news. It does not simply give a “news flash” about God. On the contrary, the Gospel does something in those that receive it in faith (verse 13; Romans 1:16; Ephesians 6:17; 1 Peter 1:23-25; Hebrews 4:13; John 17:17).
In describing the Gospel as “God’s Word,” Paul and the other New Testament writers were adapting the expression “the Word of the Lord” from Israel’s prophets. Of the 241 times that this expression appears in the Hebrew Bible, it refers to prophetic oracles 221 times.
Like the prophetic oracles that were called “the Word of the Lord,” the Gospel was not preached in order to convey an idea but to get results (1 Kings 17:1; Deuteronomy 8:3; Isaiah 55:10-11), to affect history (Jeremiah 5:14; 23:29; Ezekiel 11:13). God’s Word proclaimed in the new dispensation of grace should not be weaker than God’s word spoken in the Old Testament. Hence, Paul thought it important to distinguish man’s word from God’s.