Part eight of the series “Hebrews 2:9 – Separated by Grace.”

Thus, we have demonstrated the importance of patristic evidence for the textual criticism of Heb 2:9. Because Origen’s citations pass the appropriate tests (the grammar of the citation is not significantly affected; the author may be quoting directly from a text; our critical edtion is reliable; and the readings are preserved in the original Greek), it should be reckoned as a powerful witness to the text of Hebrews during that time period. Moreover, since in context it makes little difference which variant he chooses, Origen’s witness seems rather strong, at least for Alexandria.

Further, we have illustrated the importance of internal evidence for assessing this particular variant. χωρὶς is not only the lectio difficilior, but also a more common word in Hebrews than χάρις, and, while its alteration can be explained by scribal lapse, it is more likely the work of a theologically motivated scribe.

When this internal evidence and the evidence of Origen and other patristic authors is combined with the manuscript evidence that heavily favors χάριτι, we are confronted with the realities of an early christological debate that has manifested itself as a text-critical quandary.

The earliest version of the text probably read χωρὶς θεοῦ, but proto-orthodox scribes, sensitive to the “heretical” practice of splitting Christ into multiple persons, have elected to alter the text in an effort to reclaim Paul as a witness to their view.

Part seven of the series “Hebrews 2:9 – Separated by Grace.”

Irenaeus seems to be fighting the same battle in Book 3 of Adversus haereses. In III.16.9, he lays out the testimony of Paul in an attempt to refute the notion that there is a divine Christ distinct from a human Jesus; he wants to show that they are one and the same:

Christ suffered, and he himself was the Son of God, who died on our behalf, and with his blood he redeemed us at the pre-appointed time . . . he [Paul] proclaimed most plainly that this same one who was apprehended and suffered and shed his blood for us, this is the Christ, this is the Son of God, who also rose again and was taken into heaven.¹

And later, in III.17.4, he describes the “heresy”:

They understand Christ to be one, and Jesus another, and they teach that there was not one Christ, but many. And if they say that they are united, again they show that this one underwent suffering, but this one remained impassible; that one ascended to the Pleroma, but the other remained in the intermediate area, and that this one in invisible and unnameable areas feasted and reveled, but this one sat by the Demiurge emptying his power.²

Irenaeus is very concerned with this notion that “heretical” groups are splitting Christ into multiple persons. His tactic is to show how scripture, especially Paul, refutes such a notion. Within this sort of climate, it is not difficult to see how a pious, proto-orthodox scribe, knowing that the christological debate is of great concern, might alter the text to say not that Jesus tasted death χωρὶς θεοῦ (a reading that, according to all intrinsic factors, appears to be genuine), but that he was crucified χάριτι θεοῦ (a reading that is extremely well-attested, but falters when the internal evidence is gathered). Indeed, the former reading could provide ammunition for those who believe that the Divine left Christ, while the latter is a gloss more friendly to Irenaeus and the like.

Footnotes

1. Rousseau and Louis Doutreleau, Contre Les Hérésies (SC 211; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1974) 322–25: Christum passum et ipsum esse Filium Dei, qui pro nobis mortuus est et sanguine suo redemit nos in praefinito tempore . . . hunc eundem qui apprehensus et passus est et effudit sanguinem suum pro nobis, hunc Christum, hunc Filium Dei manifestissime adnuntians, qui etiam surrexit et adsumptus est in caelos. (The translation here is my own.)
2. Ibid., 338-41: Alium autem— Christum et alium Iesum intellegunt, et non unum Christum sed plures fuisse docent; et si unitos eos dixerint, iterum ostendunt hunc quidem participasse passionem, hunc autem impassibilem perseuerasse; et hunc quidem ascendisse in Pleroma, hunc autem in Medietate remansisse; et hunc quidem in inuisibilibus et innominabilibus epulari et oblectari, hunc autem adsidere Demiurgo euacuantem eum virtutem. (The translation again is my own.)

Part six of the series “Hebrews 2:9 – Separated by Grace.”

Origen mentions the χωρίς reading of Heb 2:9 six times, four of which are preserved in Greek, two in the Latin translations by Rufinus.¹  While Origen does not seem to declare a preference for either reading, he does seem to favor the χωρίς reading over χάριτι.

First, let us consider his use of Heb 2:9 in the Commentary on John: χωρὶς γὰρ θεοῦ ὑπὲρ παντὸς ἐγεύσατο θανάτου (“for apart from God on behalf of all he tasted death”). He then adds the phrase ὅπερ ἔν τισι κεῖται τῆς πρὸς Ἑβραίους ἀντιγράφοις χάριτι θεοῦ (“which among some copies of the [epistle] to the Hebrews is set down ‘by the grace of God’”)—clearly indicating that he knows of manuscripts with both readings.²  As Paul Garnet points out, Origen here seems—somewhat tacitly—to support the originality of χωρίς, and his choice of this reading in no way affects the theological point that he is trying to make (namely, that “Jesus offered himself as a sacrifice not only for men, but for every rational being”).³  For Origen, the point is not that Jesus tasted death χωρὶς θεοῦ, but that he tasted death ὑπὲρ παντός. So, whether or not the manuscript says χωρίς or χάρις is inconsequential for his purpose. If the reading were necessary for Origen’s argument, then it would be easy to infer why he might prefer it.

Contrast this, for example, with Ambrose’s repeated citation of Heb 2:9 in De Fide.⁴  Because Ambrose finds Jesus’ separation from God (sine Deo) to be so theologically significant, it is obvious why he might prefer that reading.⁵  It is also possible to conjecture that whichever manuscripts he had in front of him, he would continue to prefer χωρίς every time .So also for Theodore of Mopsuestia, who refers to the χάριτι reading as γελοιότατον (“most ridiculous/most laughable”).

Origen’s use of Heb 2:9, however, does not seem to suffer from the four aforementioned shortcomings of patristic citations. For, the syntax of the sentence does not significantly alter the quotation (though he does add γάρ and change the mood of γεύομαι to the indicative); while he does not explicitly claim to be quoting from a text in front of him, the nature of the quotation (and the appendage of the phrase about other manuscripts) indicates that he is reproducing the text somewhat faithfully; the text we have is found in a good critical edition; and finally, we do not need to worry about issues of translation, since this text is preserved in Greek.

Another citation by Origen that may be significant is found in the Dialogue with Heraclides 27: ζητῶ ἵν’ εὕρω ὅτι Χριστὸς Ἰησοῦς ὕπερ πάντων ἀπέθανεν χωρὶς θεοῦ (“I seek so that I find that Christ Jesus died apart from God on behalf of all”).⁶  Garnet contends that the phrase which introduces this quote (ζητῶ ἵν’ εὕρω) indicates the Origen has actually taken the time to search out the verse.⁷  While Garnet’s argument for Origen’s direct use of the manuscript for his citation is not altogether convincing (mainly because the citation has Jesus dying rather than “tasting death”—a variant not to be found elsewhere), this citation is important because it comes amidst christological debate.⁸  As we have discussed earlier, Ehrman is convinced that the alteration of χωρίς to χάριτι most likely centered around christological debate. In the case of Heraclides, we clearly have Heb 2:9 being used as a scriptural argument for a discussion about the nature of Christ. Hebrews 2, in fact, is most intimately concerned with Christology. Verses 5–18 provide a concise description of Jesus’ status as a human being. He was made lower than the angels and crowned with glory and honor because of his suffering of death (2:8–9), and he is put on the same level as humans (2:11), taking on the same nature and sharing flesh and blood (2:14).⁹  In Hebrews 2, the very nature of Christ is at stake, just as it was for scribes of the second century. The passage puts a great deal of emphasis not only on Jesus’ divinity (all things are subjected to him), but also on his humanity (he shares in flesh and blood). Therefore, the text becomes important for two different christological camps—those who would wish to proclaim Jesus’ full divinity, as well as those who might argue that the Divine is incapable of suffering death and thus that the Divine must have left Jesus before his suffering.

Footnotes

1. Commentary on John, I.35, XXVIII.18 (bis); Dialogue with Heraclides, 27; Commentary on Romans III.8 and V.7. See Garnet,“Hebrews 2:9.” I have adopted where applicable the Sources Chrétiennes system for labeling chapters, rather than the system used by Garnet.
2. Cecile Blanc, Commentaire Sur Saint Jean (SC 120; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1966) 186–87; and Garnet, “Hebrews 2:9,” 321.
3. Ibid., 321.
4. Hughes, A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews, 95.
5. Ambrose, in De Fide 2.3.65, during a discussion of what it means for Christ to be “made lower,” uses Heb 2:9, making the following statement: “How wisely the Apostle wrote: ‘In order that apart from God He might taste death on behalf of all,’ lest we should think that the Godhead, rather than the flesh, had endured the passion.”
6. Jean Scherer, Entretien avec Héraclide (SC 67; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2002).
7. Garnet, “Hebrews 2:9,” 321–22.
8. Contrast this with the Origen’s use of Heb 2:9 in The Commentary on John where he is discussing the efficacy of the cross and the redemptive nature of Jesus’ death. The Latin translations by Rufinus for The Commentary on Romans also employ Heb 2:9 in discussion of Jesus’ sacrifice. It is also worth noting that in Commentary V.7, a discussion of grace, Rufinus preserves ut sine Deo pro omnibus gustaret mortem (“So that without God, on behalf of all, he tasted death”). Certainly some form of χάριτι would be preferred in a section about grace. In both Latin cases, Rufinus preserves the Hebrews word order, unlike the Greek citations we have. See Garnet, “Hebrews 2:9,” 322.
9. Ehrman, Orthodox Corruption of Scripture, 149.

Earlier this week, I briefly discussed the poem in 2 Tim 2.11–13 in my post about parathēkē. Here, I’d like to explore this passage a bit more, line-by-line.

First, let’s set the context. The purpose for 2 Timothy, predominantly, is to encourage a co-worker in Christ to continue to preach boldly the gospel, and to avoid apostasy at all cost. In the midst of this exhortation, Paul¹ offers this poem:

2 Tim 2.11–13 (Hebert Translation)
This word is trustworthy:
For if we died with [Christ], we also will live with him.
If we endure, we also will reign with him.
If we are going to deny [him], he also will deny us.
If we are faithless, he will remain faithful,
for he is not able to deny himself.

2 Tim 2.11–13 (Nestle-Aland 27)
πιστὸς ὁ λόγος·
εἰ γὰρ συναπεθάνομεν, καὶ συζήσομεν·
εἰ ὑπομένομεν, καὶ συμβασιλεύσομεν·
εἰ ἀρνησόμεθα, κἀκεῖνος ἀρνήσεται ἡμᾶς·
εἰ ἀπιστοῦμεν, ἐκεῖνος πιστὸς μένει, ἀρνήσασθαι γὰρ ἑαυτὸν οὐ δύναται.

The hymn or poem is comprised of four couplets arranged in parallel structure, two positive and two negative. Each of the couplets is a condition of the first form² , meaning that these are very simple conditions making suppositions neither about the reality of the condition nor its probabilty. Essentially, we have a logical formula that looks something like this:

If A = B, then C = D.

In this sense, this is the simplest of conditions. The only minor complication comes in v. 12b where the verb arnēsometha (ἀρνησόμεθα) is in the future tense. These couplets yield some interesting theology of great use.

Couplet #1: Die to Live

If we died with Christ, then we will also live with him.

Essentially, this couplet encapsulates Paul’s doctrine of dying to the self,³ which is really a riff on Jesus (e.g., in Luke 9.23–24). Here, Paul is reminding Timothy the gain that is associated with taking part in the death, burial, and resurrection for Jesus. Remember that this is the Gospel according to Paul.⁴ These themes and ideas are further developed in Colossians 2 and Romans 6.

A competing interpretation understands this death to refer to martyrs. However, because of the aorist tense of the verb in the protasis, and because the condition is a past simple condition, I consider this interpretation deficient.

The beauty here is in the idea of our participation in the death of Christ. The believer has actually died with Christ with the promise that s/he will find life with Christ. It’s a glorious and paradoxical idea — and I am indeed a fan of paradoxes.

Couplet #2: Endure to Reign

If we endure, then we also will reign with him.

Much of the New Testament speaks of endurance. Philippians and James come to mind. However, this idea of reigning with Christ, this royal imagery, feels like a new development to me. Yes, there is discussion of the crown of life in James 1.12 which is connected directly to the idea of endurance, but it feels different to me. “Crown of life” always seemed like a reward, whereas reigning with Jesus feels more like a mission or  job.

Here’s the point, though, endurance is the mark of the believer; s/he endures through all and will find triumph on the other side of all those oppressions. To my ear, it feels much like the radical social upheaval preached by Jesus and especially emphasized by Luke — the last shall be first.

Furthermore, this couplet promises full participation in the Kingdom. We aren’t merely God’s loyal subjects; we are participants in his Kingdom. We have a duty to fulfill, a part to play.

Couplet #3: Deny and Be Denied

If we are going to deny him, then he also will deny us.

The heart of this couplet is in apostasy, a major theme in 2 Timothy. According to Paul, those who turn away and deny Jesus will be denied. This is a difficult passage for universalists. The penalty for denying Jesus is disavowal by God.

The protasis is in the future: “If we are going to deny him.” Is it possible that this only applies to apostates? Is it possible that this doesn’t apply to those who have never had the opportunity to deny Jesus?

I’m not sure. The saying is certainly situated within the context of not turning your back, not falling away, not committing apostasy. So, I do think this is possible.

Couplet #4: Lose Faith but He Won’t

If we are faithless, he will remain faithful,
for he is not able to deny himself.

I do not take this verse to mean that Jesus will remain faithful and restore to him even those who are faithless. Instead, I think the point is this: even in the midst of our faithfulness, God is still faithful to his promise because, unlike humans, he is unable to deny himself.

This is a really interesting idea and may run counter to my own understanding of the Cross in some ways. I am a proponent of a variant in Heb 2.9 that would cause that particular verse to read that Jesus died “separated from God” rather than “by the grace of God.” Good evidence, both internal and external, exists to support this argument. Additionally, this idea jives with Jesus’ own words on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” To me it lends an extra layer of gravity to the proceedings — this is not just Jesus going through the motions; no, he suffered real pain and real separation; his very being was rent in two.

However, in order for this idea of the forsaken Jesus on the Cross to work, it would seem that God would have to deny himself. This verse makes that impossible.

Is there some other way to think about Jesus forsaken on the cross? I don’t know.

The point for Paul here, however, is more about God’s own endurance and faith. Jesus was faithful to the end and remains faithful to the promise of life that he has granted to all of us. Even when we lose faith, even when we deny him, even when we turn our backs and run, he remains faithful because it is utterly against his character to do otherwise. It simply isn’t possible.

Footnotes

1. I realize there are issues with Pauline authorship. For the purposes of this post, I will simply use Paul as the name for the author in accordance with tradition.
2. See Smyth, Greek Grammar, §2298–2301.
3. Read Philippians 3.
4. Cf. 1 Corinthians 15.

In a previous post, I made the point that the parathēkē (παραθήκη), the beautiful thing that God has entrusted to us (in the parlance of the epistles of to Timothy), is not necessarily the Gospel, but really a certain kind of doctrine or orthodoxy — right teaching.¹

First, in order to understand this, we must understand the difference between Gospel and Orthodoxy or Gospel and Teaching.

While the Gospel itself is conveyed to us by words (or the Word, if you will) in the New Testament, the word itself goes beyond this. Gospel, of course, is an Anglo-Saxon term that simply means “good news” — a direct translation of the Greek euaggelion (εὐαγγέλιον) from which we get the word “evangelism.” While we can literally think of the Gospel as this good news (e.g., the report that has been conveyed to us by Luke or someone like that), I would argue that the Gospel really goes beyond this and encompasses not only the message, but also its meaning — hope of salvation in Christ. Ultimately, Paul’s gospel is a gospel of hope, of release from bondage to this world into the bondage of the perfect master: Jesus Christ.

Orthodoxy, on the other hand, is less about the news report, and less about the meaning, and more about the teaching that is associated with it. In light of the Gospel, in light of this message of hope and redemption, what do we do? How do we go about understanding all of this? How do we appropriate it into our lives? Orthodoxy, right teaching, gives us a direction to go for these questions. Orthodoxy leads to orthopraxy.

So, on the one hand, we have the Holy Spirit that has been entrusted to us; on the other hand, we have what the Holy Spirit is meant to guard in us (2 Tim 1.14) — and I’m taking this to mean the instruction that Paul is passing on because this instruction allows us to live out the Gospel.

In this sense, Paul is not unlike ancient Jewish wisdom teachers (the authors of Proverbs, Wisdom of Solomon, Sirach, and, as I would argue, the Epistle of James). Paul is passing down the wisdom he has acquired during his struggle and striving. In 2 Timothy we can see kernels of this sprinkled throughout. Here is one of my favorites:

2 Tim 2.11–13 (Hebert Translation)
This word is trustworthy:
For if we died with [Christ], we also will live with him.
If we endure, we also will reign with him.
If we will deny [him], he also will deny us.
If we are faithless, he will remain faithful,
for he is not able to deny himself.

2 Tim 2.11–13 (Nestle-Aland 27)
πιστὸς ὁ λόγος·
εἰ γὰρ συναπεθάνομεν, καὶ συζήσομεν·
εἰ ὑπομένομεν, καὶ συμβασιλεύσομεν·
εἰ ἀρνησόμεθα, κἀκεῖνος ἀρνήσεται ἡμᾶς·
εἰ ἀπιστοῦμεν, ἐκεῖνος πιστὸς μένει, ἀρνήσασθαι γὰρ ἑαυτὸν οὐ δύναται.

This series of statements conveys meaning to us not only by some very nice parallelism, but also by sound theology that leads us into general orthopraxy. Namely, because we have this hope in Christ that we will live in him, we know that we must endure. This endurance, this dying with Christ, is characterized by remaining faithful and not denying him. Beyond this, we know that God will remain faithful because Christ is not able to deny himself. To imitate Christ means to remain faithful to him, to endure whatever comes our way, and never to deny him. The pastoral epistles are full of these little nuggets of wisdom; such wisdom usually ends with a call to response on the part of the hearer. In this example, we are called to remain faithful.

While the Holy Spirit brings the Gospel from person-to-person, dwelling within each, it is our job to transmit this beautiful teaching from person-to-person. As Paul says: “…[W]hat you have heard from me by many witnesses, pass it down to faithful persons, whoever will be capable of teaching others as well.”²

Footnotes

1. For some rambling thoughts on orthodoxy and heresy, see my very jumbled post: “Awww, Hell…Heresy!” from a last week.
2. 2 Tim 2.2 (Hebert Translation)

I thought it would be nice to take a moment to look at two possible interpretations of the parable in Matthew 13.44. I am indebted to Jack Wisdom, elder at Ecclesia and all-around exegetical ninja, whose sermon this morning highlighted two different interpretations of this parable.

Here’s the text:

Nestle-Aland 27
Ὁμοία ἐστὶν ἡ βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν θησαυρῷ κεκρυμμένῳ ἐν τῷ ἀγρῷ, ὃν εὑρὼν ἄνθρωπος ἔκρυψεν, καὶ ἀπὸ τῆς χαρᾶς αὐτοῦ ὑπάγει καὶ πωλεῖ πάντα ὅσα ἔχει καὶ ἀγοράζει τὸν ἀγρὸν ἐκεῖνον.

Hebert Translation
The Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field which a man found and covered back up. Then, in all his joy, he goes and sells as much as he has and buys that field.

Interpretation #1: God = The Man | Humans = The Treasure

In this interpretation, the man who finds the treasure is God. This interpretation might recall to your mind John 3:16 — the pivotal verse that is plastered on the chests of bold young Christian men during American sporting events in the deepest of winter cold in order to show that they truly are suffering with Christ in accordance with the rules of engagement laid out by Paul the ultimate sufferer for Christ. Here we have God finding his treasure, his most valued possession — humanity — and he goes all in, selling out everything in order to purchase that treasure and keep it for himself.

To my ear this interpretation rings true. It reminds me of John 3:16 as well as Philippians 2.5–11. It’s a beautiful, Christian, biblical thought — God completely and utterly empties himself of his god-ness, and becomes a servant. He sells out everything he has for our sake.

Interpretation #2: Humans = The Man | God = The Treasure

The second interpretation is probably more popular and maybe more obvious. Here the man who finds the treasure is you and me — the human who has found God or the Kingdom of Heaven. If we understand that the heavy cost of following Jesus is nothing compared to what we actually gain, then we understand that selling everything in order to hold on to that is a rather winsome proposition.

In some sense, this interpretation calls to mind my recent discussion of parathēkē. The deposit, the treasure, the parathēkē that we are given is of far greater value than anything else. This is supported, of course, by one of today’s lectionary texts, Philippians 3.4b–14. In this passage, Paul considers all of his earthly treasures, advancements, and accolades to be loss, to be rubbish, to be skybala (σκύβαλα),¹ when compared to the knowledge of Christ.

Which Interpretation?

So, which interpretation is correct?

Those who know me probably know exactly what my answer will be: BOTH.

While some might like to fix a single meaning to a text, I do not believe that this is impossible. Rather, I take up with the likes of Merold Westphal, and believe that there are a range of interpretations that can be considered good/true/correct for most texts. Matthew 13.44 is one such text.

Additionally, the nature of parables is that they are at least in some sense ambiguous. As allegories, symbolic representations of Jesus’ teaching, they defy definitive interpretation. In fact, I would argue that the more effective parable might be the one which does not have a best interpretation — if this is the case, then the reader/hearer will be forced to really think through the parable and our understanding of the Kingdom may be heightened by the careful attention to the shades of difference in interpretations that fall within the acceptable range of meaning.

Which interpretation of Matthew 13.44 is better? It just depends on your context and what you are trying to understand about the Kingdom.

I will say that the ideas presented in the second interpretation can be a bit troubling for me. Surely, we can’t allegorize this fully and say that we are the man who buys the field. If we were to go down that route, then we’d have to conclude that we should hide the Kingdom of God and buy it out from someone else. Careful! Of course, this defies the purpose of the interpretation which really is to get at the ideas that Paul later presents in Philippians — there is nothing of more value to us than the Kingdom of Heaven.

For me, the first interpretation really has a lot of clout because it is less about me and more about God. There is no way to twist this interpretation into some economics of salvation that claims that I must somehow buy my salvation or even that I must do anything. This is truly a God’s grace kind of thing. His Kingdom is a free gift to all of humanity, and he has sacrificed everything in order to make that happen.

Footnotes

1. Many NT commenters believe that this particular word is translated a bit too euphemistically most of the time. In his commentary on Philippians, Moises Silva makes the case that even the English word “crap” is not a sufficient gloss. Personally, I have no problem translating this word as “shit” — but, I realize that some readers will take offense to the notion of Paul using such a word in what is now considered the Word of God. However, the point stands — all is worthess, nay less than worthless!, when compared to the treasure that is Christ. For a quick little rundown on the meaning of skybala see this article from Bible.org.

It’s been quite the hiatus; I do apologize for that. I’ve been busy this semester. This morning, however, I read something that I believe God impressed upon my heart, so I thought I’d take a few moments to share it with you in two parts. The first part is a bit academic and deals largely with the meaning of this particular word. The second part is a bit more applicational — what does this mean for us?

Whatever your opinion of the authorship of the pastorals, there is no doubt that the letters to Timothy paint an interesting picture of discipleship for us. Looking specifically at 2 Timothy,¹ we find a word that is not often used in the New Testament: parathēkē (παραθήκη) — “deposit; thing entrusted to someone.” As far as I can tell, this word appears only in these letters to Timothy. Check out 2 Tim 1.12 and 1.14:

2 Tim 1.12
On account of this, I suffer. But I am not ashamed, for I know whom I believed, and I am convinced that he is able to guard that which is entrusted to me until that day.

2 Tim 1.14
By the Holy Spirit dwelling in us, guard that beautiful item which is entrusted to you.

So, what is it that has been entrusted to these guys? Admittedly, at first blush, I thought it might be the Holy Spirit, but then v. 14 doesn’t make a lot of sense. My next thought was that it was the Gospel, but then I have to ask: What are we guarding the Gospel against? Isn’t the Gospel a sword able to cut through all falsehood and lies? Why should we need to guard it?

While I’m still not 100% sure (and, admittedly, I have not consulted any commentaries on this issue), I wonder if this parathēkē refers to the instruction itself which is under attack by those who have left Paul (see v. 15). What has been entrusted to Timothy is the same sacred instruction (the “model² of sound words” in v. 13) that was first given to Paul in a revelation of Jesus Christ (see Gal 1.12).

This transmission of knowledge, and the need to safeguard it, fits in very well with other early Christian sources. For example, we could look at the Pseudo-Clementine literature and examine how Peter passes on knowledge of the True Prophet (a.k.a. Jesus) to Clement.³

So, this is how I’m understanding this particular word. Parathēkē refers to the teaching that dwells, guarded by the Holy Spirit, in our hearts.

How is this teaching different from the aforementioned Gospel? Well, stay tuned for the second part of this post which will consider what this idea really means for us.

Footnotes

1. We’ll set potential gender issues aside for now as this post is really only talking about 2 Tim 1 — 2 Tim 2 is where we start to run into some issues with gender roles.
2. The translation of hypotyposis (ὑποτύπωσις) is problematic to me — I don’t think that the typical English glosses (model, pattern, example) really hit it
3. I have spilt quite a bit of ink on this subject in a 2006 paper: “The Tension Between the Oral and the Written in the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies and the Epistola Clementis.”

Yesterday, Jack Wisdom preached a challenging sermon at Ecclesia. With his usual comedic bravado and bluster, Jack laid out Paul’s situation and the situation of Thessaloniki at the time of the writing of 1 Thessalonians. He then looked at 1 Thessalonians 1:2–10, focusing on three action verbs found in vv. 9 and 10: ἐπιστρέφω, δουλεύω, ἀναμένω — turn, serve, wait.

Turn = Faith

1 Thess 1:9 commends the Thessalonian believers for turning from idols toward God. In its original context, the “idols” that Paul refers to are probably the various Greek, Roman, Egyptian, etc., gods that were commonly worshipped. The Thessalonian believers had eschewed the like of Isis and company in favor of the “living God.” They had completed a U-turn and begun to follow Jesus.

Jack equated this idea of the turn with faith.

The Thessalonians had put their faith in Jesus in a radical way. They were not willing to simply put Jesus into their religious cart alongside a host of other gods, but had acknowledged that he was the God.

In 21st century America, we don’t very often  deal with idols in the overt sense that the early followers of Jesus did. Sure, old school idols still exist, but, for the most part, these idols have been exchanged for new ones: sex, money, power. Jack pointed out that these three things aren’t really bad in and of themselves. Instead, it’s our slavish devotion to them, our bondage to them, that gives them a bad rap. We are so easily seduced.

For many of us (and I don’t mind putting myself into this category), the day-to-day of Christian life is lived out in devotion to multiple gods: Jesus/Yahweh and some combination of the these modern American idols. Living in this way is not to be commended, and it’s not what Paul is describing in his Thessalonian friends.

Instead, these people had a true faith that had consumed their whole being. They had turned their entire selves away from idols and had begun to follow the living and loving God.

Turn = Faith

Serve = Love

Next Jack looked at this portion of 1 Thess 1:9 that says that these believers, after they turned from idols, served the living God.

Service meant to do for others. Service meant slavish devotion. Service meant love.

It’s cliché now, but it fits: love is a verb. For Jack, this notion of serving the living God meant loving others, making the Kingdom a reality amongst the least.

For me, I look at the root of the verb “to serve” in Greek, δουλ-, and I see “slave.” At various times, I have talked about bondage and slavery as it relates to Paul. I do believe that this is the way we should probably translate the word δοῦλος in Romans 1:1 — slave. At the end of the day, you’re going to have to serve somebody (thanks Mr. Dylan); you’re going to have to submit yourself to a king, to a god, to an idol, to something. As a non-god, I am subservient and beholden to someone or something.

The Christian life requires that I turn from those somethings and sell myself to the someone.

When I do that, I’ll be in service to what God requires. What God requires above all is love.

Serve = Love

Wait = Hope

Finally, we move into 1 Thess 1:10, and we see that these Thessalonian believers not only turned and served, but they also waited.

This is where the waters get murky for me. This is where this sermon becomes truly challenging. This is where I am derailed.

Wait.

Why wait?

I am not by nature a very patient person. I like things here and now. If I know that something good is on the horizon, I want to experience it now. If I know that something ugly is on the horizon, I want to experience it now. It doesn’t matter. I want it now.

Okay, okay, okay…patience is a virtue, so I’m told.

Wait for what?

Here’s the thing: what is it that I’m waiting for? The Thessalonians, according to Paul, were waiting for the Song of God to come from Heaven and deliver them from the wrath to come.

Honestly, I don’t really know what I think about the parousia or the second coming. I haven’t done enough thinking on it to decide how I feel about it. But, I do know that this idea sounds extremely nice: Jesus who delivers us from wrath. That certainly applies. And that deliverance from wrath is certainly something to hope for.

Wait = Hope

And that’s the rub for me! When I do a little self-examination, I realize that I am unacquainted with the idea of hope. I can look at little portions of my life and find some hopefulness here and there, but overall, I don’t think I really know what hope means.

Why not?

Let’s look at what Paul has to say elsewhere:

…[W]e rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. (Romans 5:3–5, ESV)

Perhaps I haven’t experienced profound hope because I haven’t experienced true suffering. Without suffering, I haven’t developed character, and without character, I have not produced hope.

This is my fervent prayer for 2010:

Lord, show me the meaning of hope. Pour out your spirit, the greatest of gifts, on me and help me to experience hope, not in the plain, overused sense that we Americans use the term, but in its full and rich meaning.

God, if this means that I must come to understand suffering, then let it be. I know that I am suffering even now in separation from you, but I have found ways to medicate myself, ways to stop the pain. I have allowed the numbing effects of this world (e.g., media addiction) to stand between me and suffering and hope and joy and you.

Jesus, strip me of my pretensions, found in me your Kingdom, and help me to understand what it means to turn, serve, and wait.

Part five of the series “Hebrews 2:9 – Separated by Grace.”

Before considering Origen’s citations, however, let us review the methodological considerations relevant to the use of “patristic” citations. One of the issues associated with using patristic citations as text-critical evidence involves the notion of quotation in the ancient world. Those who seek to use patristic evidence must adequately address a host of issues in order to deem those citations useful.

First, the patristic author should be citing the text in such a way that the grammar of the citation is not greatly affected by the author’s employment thereof. If the author’s grammar requires that a different verbal form be used (for example, in indirect discourse or within a result or final clause), then the usefulness of the citation is diminished to the extent that it is now more difficult to ascertain what form of the verb the author’s text may have originally had. This is not to say that such usage yields a citation unprofitable for textual criticism, but it does complicate the argument to some degree.

Second, one has to take into account how close the patristic author is to the text. If the author can be shown to be quoting from memory rather than from a manuscript, the fruitfulness of the citation is diminished.

Third, there is the issue of critical editions of patristic works. It is well known that the editions prepared by Jacques-Paul Migne (Patrologia Latina and Patrologia Graecae) are often fraught with bad readings and errors. But as more and more critical texts become available, such as those in the Sources Chrétiennes series, this problem becomes less relevant.

Finally, there is the matter of translation. If, for example, a Latin author is quoting the text, then it must be clear which reading of the Greek manuscript produced the translation.¹

If these four concerns about the author’s citation can be shown to be nonexistent, negligible, or irrelevant, then the patristic citation is important for text-critical arguments.

Footnotes

1. For difficulties in going from a versional translation back to Greek, see Bruce Manning Metzger, The Early Versions of the New Testament: Their Origin, Transmission, and Limitations (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977). It should also be noted that the text-critical issues associated with patristic citations carry over into translations of those patristic authors. For example, many of Origen’s works have survived only in Rufinus’s Latin translation. We must ask ourselves all of the questions in the text above about both Origen and Rufinus. What text of Origen was Rufinus using? How faithfully does Rufinus translate Origen? Etc.

I find it interesting that throughout the Bible, God is referred to as “The Living God.” For example, in Acts 14, Paul and Barnabas are preaching in Lystra. After Paul miraculously heals a crippled man, the townspeople begin referring to him as Hermes and to Barnabas as Zeus. The priests of the temple of Zeus in that town bring gifts to sacrifice to their gods. Paul, of course, is incensed. In his admonition of these people, he says:

We also are men, of like nature with you, and we bring you good news, that you should turn from these vain things to a living God, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and all that is in them. (ESV, Acts 14:15)

When we boil it down, Paul makes two statements about other gods (i.e., Zeus and Hermes in this case):

• They are vain or empty — worthless. (Explicit argument.)
• They are not alive. (Implicit argument.)

Do these worshippers of Zeus realize this? If Paul is speaking the truth here, then they must come to understand that Zeus is not alive. Is this a surprise to them?

When we try to translate this passage into our modern context, we don’t rub up against these problems. We replace Zeus and Hermes with our 21st century gods: sex, money, power, etc. Most people would probably agree that an obsession or lust for these is unhealthy. Is it the same case for Paul’s priests? Do they realize that service to Zeus or Hermes is bankrupt?

Again, this makes me think of some of the hermeneutical issues that I’ve been having (see my previous article “Canonizing Culture” for more on that). God’s word here seems to have a different impact now than it might have then.

What do you think? Do you think the “Living God” is a more or less scandalous term now than it was then?