October 6 – October 13, 2023

There will be, therefore, a first of testing (verse 40), as John the Baptist had earlier foretold (3:16-17). Indeed, in the present text Jesus seems to remember His baptism by John (3:21), because He now uses the metaphor of baptism in the context of this fire of judgment (verses 49-50). Whereas John had prophesied that Jesus “will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire,” Jesus Himself, according to the present passage, has “a baptism to be baptized with.” This image refers to His impending sufferings (cf. Mark 10:38), concerning which He feels “constrained until it be accomplished.”

Was our Lord becoming a bit impatient to do what needed to be done? Doubtless there were days when He did, notwithstanding the terror presented in that prospect (22:42). Nothing about the time of His Passion, however, was within Jesus’ power to determine. While He knew that it would come to pass by “the determined purpose and foreknowledge of God” (Acts 2:23), He was obliged to wait for the plot of His enemies to be worked out. It would happen soon enough (cf. 22:2-6). Meanwhile, our Lord would be “left hanging,” a long and monstrous foretaste of His hanging on the cross. In this passage He shares these feeling with His disciples.

It is the physician Luke, professionally sensitive to concerns of psychology, who records this inner experience of turmoil in the incarnate Word.

The crisis soon to arise, warns Jesus, is not only for His disciples and Himself, but also for the Chosen People and their leaders (cf. Matthew 16:2-3). However, these latter, being hypocrites (verse 56), are unable to discern the signs of the times. Consequently, they fail “to interpret the present time,” the current kairos that is full of impending significance.

Using the one to explain the other, Jesus draws a distinction between space and time, nature and history. Those whom He addresses area able to interpret the meaning of space and nature, the western cloud and the south wind, but the imminent events of time and history are lost to them. A cloud arriving from the west come from over the Mediterranean Sea and brings rain (cf. 1 Kings 18:44), whereas a southerly wind, arising from the Negev Desert, carries with it the dry heat.

Such things the people know from long experience; they are familiar with how to read nature. They seem far less familiar with history, however, or they would apply to its current period the same level of discernment that enables them to interpret the signs of imminent weather.

Both nature and history, after all, give indications of pattern and periodic recurrence. In the case of their present history the indications were unmistakable. Throughout the centuries the Chosen People had been instructed by their relations to the Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Persians, and the Greeks. How is it that they seem so clueless with respect to the Romans? Those crises of olden days were correctly interpreted by the biblical prophets, who bequeathed to Israel a godly insight in the proper understanding of history. Israel has evidently failed to learn the lesson. Hence its rejections of Jesus (verses 49-53).

In the present text, moreover, it is clear that Jesus did understand Israel’s impending crisis, and in this respect He appears here as the heir of the prophets, calling the Chosen People to repentance in face of the disaster soon to befall the nation at the hands of the Romans.

It was in the context of that impending judgment that Jesus understood His own vocation. Israel’s rejection of His message led directly to the nation’s downfall and colossal displacement in history. The signs of this catastrophe, said Jesus, were plain for all to see.

Monday, October 9

Ephesians 2.1-13: Paul speaks of man’s state apart from divine grace: “God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ.” You may have noticed this about dead people—they are rather helpless. They can’t even bury themselves. Now dead is how Paul describes man apart from God. He is helpless.

In what sense helpless? Man apart from God is helpless in the sense of not being able to do anything permanently significant with his life. No matter what man without God may seem to accomplish, none of it has permanent significance. When history has at least run its course, all the deeds of men will be found wanting. These deeds include every human accomplishment, every scientific endeavor, every cultural achievement, every political or military exploit, absolutely everything that man, by his own standards, thinks to be great and proclaims to be important. None of it will be found significant.

Human history does not justify itself by its own works. God will not be impressed with any of those works. “All flesh is grass,” according to Isaiah, “and all its beauty is like the flower of the field.” And the prophet goes on to spell it out in detail: “Behold, the nations are like a drop in the bucket, and are accounted as the dust on the scales; behold, he takes up the coastlands like fine dust.”

Look at the force of these metaphors—the drop of water and the speck of dust. We still call a bucket empty even if there is drop of water left in it. The bucket is still called an empty bucket. Such is human history without God. The one little drop in the bucket counts for nothing. The dust on the scales is never considered when we weigh things, because the dust is too insignificant to be weighed. It has no weight.

Isaiah sums up this truth about history: “All the nations are as nothing before him, they are accounted by him as less than nothing and emptiness.” The only thing important and significant in man’s history is what God accomplishes in man’s history: “God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ.”

What is true of all of human history is true of each of our own lives. I hope there is absent from no heart that hears these words the desire to live a truly significant life, a life that is more than a drop in the bucket or a bit of dust on the scales. What a tragedy it would be if any one of us spent an entire lifetime in this world and, at the end, had nothing to show for it.

But how are we to live a life that is really worth living? The answer is the same—Only God can infuse our personal lives with meaning, significance, and importance. If we would live such a life, then each of us must permit God to do in our own lives what He does in the whole course of human history. We must, in faith, put ourselves under His redemption.

Jesus is the vine; we are the branches. Apart from Him we can do . . . what? Apart from Me, He says, you can do nothing. A branch that does not live by the life of the vine withers up and dies. It is the activity of God in our lives that makes them fruitful. It is the activity of God in our lives that gives them importance and ultimate significance.

If God is active in our lives, we are supposed to do things. We are called to live, not to vegetate. It is important to stress this point, because otherwise our attention to the futility of man’s works may prompt us to spiritual laziness. Let us make no mistake—there is no life pleasing to God without effort and striving.

To listen to some people, you would think that Pelagianism is the only possible heresy. They treat every exhortation to effort as a form of “works righteousness.” They imagine themselves possessed of eternal life apart from their own future striving to attain it. Not even the Apostle Paul, however, thought himself “saved” in such a sense.

Tuesday, October 10

Ephesians 2.14-22: The great theme of the Epistle to the Ephesians is the reconciliation of all things in Christ. Paul introduced this theme early in the epistle, speaking of “the mystery of [God’s] will . . . that in the dispensation of the fullness of the times that He might gather together in one all things in Christ” (1:9-10). For Paul this universal reconciliation is not a theory about history. He sees it being visibly worked out already in the actual events of history. The first fruits of this universal reconciliation can already be observed in the founding of the Church, because the Church herself is founded on a specific act of divine reconciliation—namely, the reconciliation of Jews and Gentiles in one community. This unexpected and improbable reconciliation, which was already being enacted in Paul’s own lifetime, was the beginning of a more universal, even cosmic reconciliation of all things in Christ.

The means of this reconciliation is the Cross, where the death of God’s Son neutralized the difference between Gentile and Jew. Christ Himself, after all, “is our peace, who has made both one, and has broken down the middle wall of separation, having abolished in His flesh the enmity, the law of commandments contained in ordinances, so as to create in Himself one new man from the two, thus making peace, and that He might reconcile them both to God in one body through the Cross, thereby putting to death the enmity.”

This Law, given on Mount Sinai, was what separated Jew and Gentile, but in His death on the Cross “abolished” that wall of separation. By reconciling all men equally to God on the Cross, Christ reconciled them to one another. So, says, Paul, “through Him we both have access by one Spirit to the Father.”

1 Chronicles 16: The first three and the final verses of this chapter are the only parts paralleled in 2 Samuel. Josephus himself has none of the material in this chapter.

The psalms appointed for this inaugural celebration of the Ark, sometimes referred in modern scholarship as “The Enthronement of the Lord,” correspond very closely to texts contained in the Book of Psalms. Thus, verses 8-22 are substantially identical to Psalm 104 (105):1-15, verses 23-34 to Psalm 95 (96):1-13, and verses 35-36 to Psalm 105 (106):47-48.

Indeed, verse 36 corresponds to the closing verse of Book 4 of the Psalter. If we were to take that verse apart from that context, forgetting its earlier history in the Book of Psalms, we would imagine that the Babylonian Exile preceded the reign of Solomon!

The title of Psalm 95 (96), which ascribes its composition to David himself, records that it was also used at the dedication of the Second Temple “after the Captivity.” The Chronicler appreciated the significance of its also having been sung at the Ark’s first appearance in Jerusalem more than a half-millennium earlier.

In verse 4 we observe three kinds of prayer: invocation, thanksgiving, and praise.

David’s offering of the sacrifices (verse 2) should be understood in the same sense as his constructing of the ritual tent. That is to say, he caused these things to be done by others (verse 1; cf. 15:26). David no more “sacrificed” in the sense of taking the place of the priest than he “built” his house in the sense that he grabbed the chisel to replace the stonemason or the adze to replace the carpenter.

The tent at Jerusalem is distinguished from the one at Gibeon (verse 39), which was instituted by Moses (21:29). It is clear from 1 Kings 3 that the shrine at Gibeon continued to be held in high regard in Israel. This means that for a while Israel had two centers of national worship, and after the translation of the Ark to Jerusalem David took care that the regular sacrifices were still to be offered at Gibeon, along with the sacred chants (verses 40-42). It was to Gibeon that Solomon would have recourse to the Lord at the beginning of his reign.

Wednesday, October 11

1 Chronicles 17: This present chapter of Chronicles, which is profitably supplemented with 2 Samuel 7, Psalm 88 (89), and Josephus (Antiquities 7.4.4), describes how those plans of David were delayed.

In this scene David wants to build a house (bayith) for the Lord, but in fact God also intends to build a house (bayith) for David (verse 10), a house, which is the lineage of the royal family that will form the Davidic dynasty (verse 12). Only then will there be built a house for the Lord (verse 13). David’s own heir will be established in the Lord’s house (verse 14). In his prayer of response to this oracle of Nathan, David again refers to his own house in the context of that promise (verses 16-17,23-25,27).

Thus, the “house of the Lord,” which is the Temple, and the “house of David,” which is the Davidic throne, are united by an indissoluble theology. We observe how the Chronicler changes “your house and your kingdom” (2 Samuel 7:16) to “My house and My kingdom” (verse 14). God is Lord of it all.

David, in the prayer that he offers in response to this promise, is said to “sit” before the Lord (verse 6; 2 Samuel 7:18). Since this is the only place in the Hebrew Scriptures when someone is said to sit in prayer, it is not surprising that Josephus (loc. cit.) changes the verb to “prostrate.’ The uniqueness in this case, however, suggests that the act of sitting was symbolic, perhaps suggesting a sense of rest in God’s presence, of acquiescence in God’s decision.

Later on, the Chronicler will tell us that the reason David was prohibited from actually building the Temple was all the blood he had shed as a warrior (22:8; 28:3). In order to warrant that explanation of the matter, the author proceeds, in this next chapter, to describe David’s military exploits.

Psalms 129 (Greek & Latin 128): This psalm speaks of the history of this persecution and the Lord’s constant deliverance of His people in the face of it: “‘Many times have they warred against me from my youth,’ let Israel now say, ‘many times have they warred against me from my youth, but they could not prevail against me.’ The sinful contrived behind my back, perpetual in iniquity; but the righteous Lord broke the necks of the sinful.”

This persecution is described as a warfare—“they warred against me.” In the Greek version of this psalm the verb here is epolemesan, a close inspection of which will remind one of the cognate word, “polemics.” Ours being a fallen world, life in the service of God provokes any amount of such polemics.

And when began this persecution of—this polemic against—God’s people? “From my youth” would seem to place the beginnings of the experience pretty far back in Israel’s memory. Perhaps one might think of the early oppressions by the Egyptians (Ex. 1:14), or the Moabites (Judg. 3:14), or the Canaanites (4:3), or the Midianites (6:6), or the Ammonites (10:9; 1 Sam. 11:2), and so on.

The polemic against the righteous, however, goes back further still. “From my youth” would seem to include even the murder of righteous Abel (Gen. 4:8), who, we are told, “offered to God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, through which he obtained witness that he was righteous” (Heb. 11:4).

Indeed, Christ our Lord apparently took “from my youth” to begin at that exact point, for He spoke of “all the righteous blood shed on the earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah, son of Berechiah.” And in this same context the Lord further prophesied that this persecution, this relentless polemic, will continue yet: “I send you prophets, wise men, and scribes: some of them you will kill and crucify, and some of them you will scourge in your synagogues and persecute from city to city” (Matt 23:34).

Thursday, October 12

1 Chronicles 18: These next three chapters are devoted to David’s military campaigns. First comes a mention of his conquest of the Philistines (verse 1), already narrated in detail in 14:9-16. Next are the Moabites (verse 2), whose defeat is told here less graphically than in 1 Samuel 22:3. Moving north, David defeats the Zobahites (verse 3) and the Syrians (verse 5). Subjecting all of these nations to his authority, David really did rule eastward to the Euphrates.

Much of this material, with variations, was available to the Chronicler from 2 Samuel 18:1-14, but not the detail about the bronze shields from Syria. It is entirely consistent with the Chronicler’s interest in Israel’s worship that he should write of Solomon’s use of this bronze in the appointments of the Temple (verse 8).

Turning south, David conquered the Edomites (verses 12-13), gaining thereby a port on the Gulf of Aquaba, opening on to the Red Sea and beyond. In due course Solomon will exploit that seaway for vast commercial ventures.

With respect to the slaying of all those Edomites in verse 12, it must be said that several men seem to have been credit ed with the feat. Here it is ascribed to Abishai, whereas in Psalms 60 (59):1 it is said of Joab, and in 2 Samuel 8:13 David gets the credit.

With respect to David’s “court” three items are worth mentioning: First, the “Shavsha” who serves as secretary in verse 16 is called “Seriah” in 2 Samuel and “Seisan” by Josephus. Second, the Cerethites and Pelethites in verse 17 are mercenaries in David’s employ. The Cerethites are Cretans, and Pelethites is another name for Philistines.

Third, with respect to David’s sons, whom that same verse calls “chief officials in the service of the king,” there is also some confusion. 2 Samuel 8:18 says they were “priests,” while Josephus (Antiquities 7.5.4) makes them “bodyguards.” Perhaps various of them functioned in various ways at various times, though it is difficult to understand how they could have been priests, since they were of the tribe of Judah, “of which tribe Moses spoke nothing concerning priesthood” (Hebrews 7:14). It may also be the case, one suspects, that the biblical writers simply never could agree on just what David sons might be good for. Indeed, eventually David had to appoint two other men just to keep an eye on them (27:32).

Friday, October 13

Ephesians 4.1-16: Paul speaks here of what Christ accomplished by His death and His glorification. He begins by citing the Book of Psalms, “ When He ascended on high,/ He led captivity captive, / And gave gifts to men.” Paul goes on to explain the meaning of this psalm verse: “Now this, ‘He ascended’—what does it mean but that He also first descended into the lower parts of the earth?” This text is a reference to our Lord’s death and burial, which is to say that the gift of Christ is an expensive gift. It was purchased at a great price. He died, in fact, that we might have it. The gift of Christ is a gift of incalculable value, a price beyond reckoning.

Everything that we have is from the gift of Christ; our lives are full of the gift of Christ, which means that at each point in our existence we come in personal contact with the price by which that gift was purchased. At no point in our lives are we independent operators, left on our own, abandoned to our individual resources. Surrounded at all times by the gift of Christ, we are constantly in touch with motives for thanksgiving and praise.

The sustained remembrance of this truth will remove two terrible burdens from our hearts and minds: selfishness and anxiety. Thanksgiving will set me free from selfishness, and confidence in God will liberate my soul from anxiety.

We may see this truth illustrated in the stories of the Gospels. We may think, for instance, of the apostles when their boat was besieged by the storm on the lake. It was that storm of which St. Mark says, “And a great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that it was already filling.” But what was Jesus doing? Mark tells us, “He was in the stern, asleep on a pillow.” Christ, you see, is never anxious, even when we are. He is not anxious, because His gift is sure. More than that, Christ does not regard it as reasonable to be anxious. Self-preoccupation and anxiety are highly unreasonable activities. Thus, Mark goes on, “He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace, be still!’ And the wind ceased and there was a great calm. But He said to them, ‘Why are you so fearful?’”

If we were but attentive to His voice, this is what we would hear Christ saying to us all day long, “Peace, be still. Why are you so fearful?” We are surrounded, you see, by the gift of Christ, even as he sleeps in the stern of the boat. If He is not anxious, why should we be?

Paul describes this gift of Christ in terms of measure or proportion: “But to each one of us grace was given according to the measure, metron, of the gift of Christ”—kata ton metron tes doreas tou Christou. This is to say that the gift of Christ is intentional and deliberate, not random and indiscriminate. The gift of Christ is consciously picked out and personally chosen.

The providence of Christ is not just a general oversight of the bigger picture of human history; it is the particular oversight of individual human beings, each of whom is uniquely loved.