A Review of Craig S. Keener’s Christobiography

Craig S. Keener. Christobiography: Memory, History, and the Reliability of the Gospels. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2019. Ix–xxix + 713 pp. $61.99.

Few books have been as exciting to receive as Christobiography, whose contents might best be described as middling between Michael R. Licona’s Oxford University Press book, Why are There Differences in the Gospels? What We can Learn from Ancient Biography (2017), and Robert K. McIver’s SBL Press book, Memory, Jesus, and the Synoptic Gospels (2011). Keener brings together the related issues of oral Jesus tradition, memory, and the Gospels as biographies. The only other study that might be comparable to this (that I am aware of) is Michael F. Bird’s The Gospel of the Lord: How the Early Church Wrote the Story of Jesus (2014), which, rather than focusing on Jesus tradition and the Gospels as biographies, focused more on Jesus tradition and the Synoptic problem. But both are concerned with pre-Gospel traditioning and how memory and orality shaped Jesus traditions in the Gospels, and they do so in complementary ways.

Christobiography is not Keener’s first foray into ancient bioi. Together with Edward T. Wright, Keener edited and contributed to the book Biographies and Jesus: What Does it Mean for the Gospels to be Biographies? (2016). Keener also supervised a dissertation carefully examining Jesus traditions and Greco-Roman biographies by Youngju Kwon (2018).

What sets Christobiography apart from existing studies on ancient biography or memory or orality in New Testament studies is its scope and depth. In traditional Keener style, pages 27–364 exhaustively review and update recent discussion of the Gospels as ancient biographies, tackling new concerns not previously emphasized, such as an audience’s expectations (pp. 121–149). While some of this material on ancient biographies may be more familiar to students of the New Testament, Keener’s later section provides one of the more integrative and thorough treatments of personal memory, social memory, and oral Jesus tradition presently available (pp. 365–496). For example, while Samuel Byrskog (Story as History, History as Story: The Gospel Tradition in the Context of Ancient Oral History, 2002) or Richard Bauckham (Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, 2006, 20172) have focused heavily on personal memory, and James D. G. Dunn on communal memory (Jesus Remembered, 2003), Keener’s approach is more integrative, situating the two at once. He discusses “the collective memory of the eyewitnesses,” noting that “their memories [the eyewitnesses]… would interact and would be pooled in the community’s shared memory” (pp. 409f.). Keener’s work in this regard may be seen as similar to McIver (noted above) or Eric Eve (Behind the Gospels: Understanding the Oral Tradition, 2014; Writing the Gospels: Compositions and Memory, 2016), but McIver and Eve only treated these topics in a serial manner (Eve does, however, provide a chapter on memory and ancient writing that integrates the two), and existing studies have not yet included treatment of ancient biography.

In a day of mass academic publishing routinely leading to the usual repetition of existing ideas, Keener still manages to provide readers with fresh and creative insights such as the following: (a) giving ancient testimony about memory and orality a place at the table in their present discussions (pp. 387–88, 390–92, 402–407, 414, 417–420; 422–437; 438–444); (b) providing an extensive examination of ancient Jewish memory and memory in ancient Greco-Roman education (pp. 423–432); and (c) contouring the concern for illiteracy through the prism of ancient memory (pp. 437–444). Keener further provides clear and positive definitions for many of the discussion pieces, such as explaining the kinds of memories that are often preserved (pp. 393–97) or characterizing the shape of genuine memories (pp. 444–48).

Keener’s ancient focus for these methods, methods which nearly always remain in the realm of their present-day theoretical discussion, is provided in a manner that only a careful scholar of ancient history like Keener can afford. Additionally, Keener is very good at balancing studies that tend toward one pole or another, which in memory discussion typically centers on the reliability question. Keener is careful not to over-estimate the reliability of memory (pp. 373–383, 370–371, 407–409), while also reluctant to chase examples of memory distortion toward nihilist conclusions (pp. 411–412). This results in some hesitation about verbatim agreement (pp. 385–390) and some preference for gist memory (pp. 378–79, 386–87, 400, 465–69).

The only faults remotely intimated in an otherwise perfect book are Keener’s neglect of Travis M. Derico’s book, Oral Tradition and Synoptic Verbal Agreement: Evaluating the Empirical Evidence for Literary Dependence (2016), in his discussion of verbatim agreement, and the many supporting examples and studies Derico provides challenging accepted views on the degree of verbal agreement achievable among oral tradents. Second and last, Keener does not clearly explain why he treats biography together with pre-Gospel considerations, nor does he explain their relationship with one another. However, Keener does state that he aims to provide a foundation for future considerations of these topics (pp. 20–21), and in this regard Christobriography is decidedly successful.

As is always the case, Keener’s work portrays the ideal qualities for any researcher, including a remarkably objective and personally unobtrusive discourse that only ever invites trust from the reader, as well as the marks of a sobering and genuine humility. Although Keener has much to boast, what one always finds in his work is a gentleness akin to Augustine’s Confessions.

Addressing Responses to Jesus, Skepticism, and the Problem of History. Revisiting Indebtedness.

In this post I address responses to my essay in Jesus, Skepticism, and the Problem of History: “Neglected Discontinuity between Early Form Criticism and the New Quest with Reference to the Last Supper,” JSPH, 67–90. I have been very happy to see that most feedback has been welcoming. e.g. Jonathan D. Wegner, “Jesus the Samaritan: Synthesizing Two Approaches to the Historical Jesus and their Conceptions on the Continuity between Jesus and the Gospels,” JSHJ 18 (2020): 1–36 (esp. 13n.48). Wegner writes (21): “In spite of the fervent-protests of Allison, Keith, Bernier, Zimmerman, and others to sideline the criteria, and against the predisposition to take the parables for granted on the basis of them being typical of Jesus, Meier’s analysis well demonstrates the critical assistance the criteria can provide in describing the correspondence between a specific Gospel unit and the life of Jesus.” Wegner also affirms his support of Bock’s essay in the same book, where Bock observes the necessity of criteria in order to have meaningful dialogue and/or assessment (23n.90). There has been additional feedback from Scot McKnight and Nicholas Perrin.

Scot McKnight, “The Historical Jesus and Witness: The Problem is Not Method but Results,” JSPH, 351–360 (here 357), also seems appreciative: “Yes, these methods [i.e. the criteria of authenticity] work, but we must ask what we hope to accomplish. The so-called criteria, mentioned and explained and scrutinized with sophistication in this book, work. They yield results. (…). The methods have to be scrutinized, and in this volume there is a fair amount of such scrutiny, and I’m thinking of Michael Metts’s analysis of form criticism and the criteria.”

Nicholas Perrin, “Jesus, Skepticism, and the Problem of History: The Conversation Continues,” JSPH, 361–370, sees good and bad. Perrin acknowledges the New Quest as a criticism of Bultmann, and here we agree. This was the fundamental reason for my essay. But Perrin also thinks I may have missed Keith’s concern about the “methodically unwarranted bifurcation of ‘authentic’ and ‘inauthentic’ material” (365–366).

While I hold Perrin truly and only in the highest esteem, I think he misses the discontinuity that my essay aims to illustrate. Käsemann’s dissimilarity criterion, which presupposes a continuum between Jesus and kerygmatic proclamation — i.e. history in the kerygma and not behind — is largely discordant with claims of indebtedness. Reading Käsemannian dissimilarity in its historical context means acknowledging the inauthentic debris pile left behind by Bultmann. Bultmann radically criticized the Gospels as sources for the historical Jesus. He saw pursuit of the historical Jesus as an impossibility given the nature of the Gospels as sources. Käsemann picked up the inauthentic pile of Bultmann and proceeded from there. Käsemann began not with undecided material to be sifted through a criterion to decide its authenticity/inauthenticity, but with a mass of inauthentic material. Käsemann’s challenge was to demonstrate that these inauthentic sources, Bultmann’s discarded Gospels, actually contain authentic history. Characterizing this situation of Jesus questing as a period of bifurcating inauthentic material and authentic material and as a period indebted to Bultmann, as Keith does, misses what actually took place. It may be true that in their later reception the criteria were utilized in this manner, perhaps by Fuller, but I cannot help but see this characterization as radically misleading.

The argument might also be expressed this way. Our terminology for the periodization of Jesus questing derives from the history of questing as I have sketched it:

1. The First Quest (the quest to get behind interpretation to bruta facta).

2. Bultmann and the No Quest (inauthentic material means no questing).

3. A New Quest for Jesus (i.e. authentic history in our sources means a legitimate historical Jesus).

In the argument of Keith, it seems his indebtedness criticism mistakenly identifies the No Quest and New Quest periods. It seems Keith really does not think New Questers repudiated Bultmann’s method. (If I am wrong, I am open to correction on this; I would hate to falsely present the arguments of any researcher.) In his essay, “The Narratives of the Gospels and the Historical Jesus: Current Debates, Prior Debates and the Goal of Historical Jesus Research,” JSNT 38 (2016): 426–455 — despite an accurate depiction of developments from Bultmann to Käsemann (“Käsemann considered this search for ‘authentic’ tradition to be a new stage in Jesus research… This new stage of enquiry was necessary because the form critics had successfully altered the scholarly communis opinio concerning the historical worth of the gospels”) — Keith still regards Käsemann as involved in the method of Bultmann, which he characterizes as an attempt to get behind the text to history without interpretation. But this is incorrect for the reasons given above. That this is a misunderstanding is also clear to me since Käsemann explicitly faulted Leben Jesu historians of the First Quest for seeking what Keith regards Käsemann as seeking: bruta facta, i.e. history apart from interpretation.

It seems to me that Keith needs the criteria to be indebted to Bultmann because the failure of his form criticism entails the criteria’s own. This may seem like an uncharitable caricature, but it is difficult to make sense of Keith’s crusade against the criteria otherwise. It seems to me also that Keith wants the criteria to fail since they function as a foil for his presentation of social memory.

Making Notes in God’s Word

I was reading the Bible Design & Binding Blog and the issue of taking notes in the Bible came up. I haven’t read any books on this issue and am certainly no expert on making notes in a Bible but I do it often and will share the (I hope) wisdom I’ve ascertained through the past couple of years. Here’s a numbered list of the points I try to follow:

• (1) Use mechanical pencils — especially when working in haste (eg. during a class lecture or sermon). Later recopy the notes in ink using a small-tip pen. Consider using a “draft” Bible where you can first copy your notes before later copying them to your pride and joy. I used a draft Bible my first year at Criswell College.
• (2) Don’t wet highlight. Use dry highlighters. I do not use highlighters at all for my main Bible because I simply have not thought up a color scheme.  This begs the next point: try to use different colors when highlighting, letting each color stand for a particular theme (e.g., for Christology use a red, dry highlighter, or for eschatological notes, maybe blue). These are only examples, use what you would prefer. Have a general color, yellow perhaps, for all general observations when highlighting. Try not to highlight a lot (although, this is hard because most will struggle with the urge to highlight all of Scripture).
• (3) Use a wide-margin Bible. If it’s a study Bible, try not to repeat the same notes given.
• (4) Apply a manual of style and use it systematically. Obviously, it is best to be space conscience, so abbreviating books of the Bible and other words is a must do item. Do not use different abbreviations for the same book throughout your Bible (e.g., Ex, Exod, or Exds, etc). I use Criswell’s Manual of Style to determine abbreviations for books, proper nouns, and other phrases.  Notice also, the use of the very common word “verse” and its plural form, “verses” (i.e. v. or vv.). Try to be as systematic in your choices as possible.
• (5) This can be optional, but write the verse or verses your note addresses then follow with the note.
• (6) For notes that encompass a large amount of literature, try writing these notes where they can be easily located (e.g., for a general Johannine soteriological note, consider placing this note either at the beginning of John’s Gospel, or at the end, depending on space necessity or constraint). Or, if the notes are general Pauline notes, a page in one of Paul’s epistles that has plenty of empty space is a great place to list this data (e.g., if noting Paul’s use of the LXX’s ’LORD’ passages, where ‘LORD’ originally meant ‘YHWH’, the Tetragrammaton, this type of note might go on it’s own page where the data can easily be gathered and later referenced, rather than making a note at each verse where this high-implication Christological event occurs).
• (7) Do not add a note for the sake of adding a note. Only if it is something that is crucial to the text, memory, your doctrinal beliefs or convictions, or a very relevant detail — do not add it. Like the article at Bible Design & Binding suggests, you’ll later be embarrassed and want to buy some white-out!
• (8) Buy some white-out.
• (9) Use a ruler for underlining Scripture or when separating columns of notes.  A chief means of making your Bible unnecessarily messy is to forgo a ruler.
• (10) Like the different colored highlighting, I would also suggest using different colors of ink that systematically represent a certain type of note.  Which begs a similar point: use micro-tipped pens — I recommend Pigma Micron 005.
• (11) Avoid dating your notes unless you really want to for sentimental reasons.
• (12) Spell check everything before writing. Keep a dictionary nearby. If you’re not sure, look it up before writing it. Also, check cross-references before transferring them from a book or previous collection of notes. Sometimes they are wrong and will need to be corrected, or not added.
• (13) For quick references, those opaque-colored page-tabs are very handy.

I only have a lot to say on this subject because I recently spent about six weeks transferring over notes to my new main study Bible (a wide-margin Key Word NASB). This was a voluminous task since I had collected quite a bit of data in the past couple years of study. I’m sure expert scholars have a better system of making notes in their bibles and I would be interested to hear what other systems they are using.

Thanks and God bless your studies.

Michael

Hidden Gems on the Last Supper and the Lord’s Supper

Apart from the obvious books that most readers of this blog will be familiar with, such as Brant Pitre’s Jesus and the Last Supper (which happens to be my, Michael, favorite book in biblical studies), I have in the course of PhD studies and writing my dissertation discovered a few very valuable studies on the Last Supper and/or the Lord’s Supper.

Gillian Feely-Harnik, The Lord’s Table: The Meaning of Food in Early Judaism and Christianity (Washington DC: Smithsonian Books, 1994; reprint The Lord’s Table: Eucharist and Passover in Early Christianity [Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1981]). Imagine the implications and world of wonder that would open if I were to tell you that the Lord’s Table in the title of Feely-Harnik’s book refers primarily not to 1 Corinthians 10, but to the golden table in the Jerusalem temple or to its altar. The cultic implications for understanding NT Supper texts are considerable. And these are just some of the insights she affords.

Andrea Beth Lieber, “God Incorporated: Feasting on the Divine Presence in Ancient Judaism,” (PhD diss. Columbia University, 1998). While Lieber’s work is independent of Feely-Harnik, it richly distills much of the cultic and covenantal implications of the Jewish sacrificial system in a somewhat similar manner (for example her second chapter is “At God’s Table”) but with an added emphasis on visionary encounters with God owing to the influence of Exodus 24:11: “and they beheld God and they ate and they drank.” Lieber’s writing style is additionally engaging and I found myself consuming the entire dissertation in one sitting. It was particularly Lieber’s study that really allowed me to better exegete 1 Corinthians 10.

One frustration I’ve had in Supper research is finding a recent and thorough examination of the history of research. I found this addressed both surprisingly and appreciably in Jerome Kodell, The Eucharist in the New Testament (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1988). Obviously, since the book is dated to 1988 it is not “recent” without some qualification. I would only say that the state of Supper studies has not changed very much from the very active decade between the early seventies to early eighties. For example, the question of priority, whether Mark/Matthew or Paul/Luke, has not been resolved but only exacerbated by recent research on memory and orality. The differences seen especially in Luke’s Gospel with other accounts (such as Luke’s two cups) is really past the breaking point among researchers, and involves textual-criticism, the notoriously difficult question of Luke’s sources based on philological examination, etc. Koddell has provided a still meaningful history of research that is the clearest explanation in English of several notable German researchers who continue to influence discussion, including Hermann Patsch, Heinz Schürmann, Rudolf Pesch, etc. (I would add here that in a private discussion with Dale C. Allison Jr. in 2016 on the topic of the criteria of authenticity and the Last Supper, the very first question he posed to me was if I had considered Pesch’s work.)

While I do not consider the next researcher “hidden” by any means, there is one essay of his I came across that neatly summarizes his work on the Supper that is not as well known. While I have read and bought and read again Bruce Chilton’s A Feast of Meanings: Eucharistic Theologies from Jesus through Johannine Circles, NovTSup 72 (Leiden: Brill, 1994), he summarizes this book in the space of one essay I found very well: Bruce Chilton, “Ideological Diets in a Feast of Meanings,” Bruce Chilton and Craig A. Evans, Jesus in Context: Temple, Purity, and Restoration, AGJU 39 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 59-89.

Additional hidden gems have been:

Kobus Petzer, “Style and Text in the Lucan Narrative of the Institution of the Lord’s Supper (Luke 22, 19b-20),” NTS 37 (1991): 113-129.

Fergus King, “Travesty or Taboo? ‘Drinking Blood’ and Revelation 17:2-6,” Neot 38.2 (2004): 303-325. Think of the implications of the following for the historicity of the Supper… Since a few recent researchers such as Andrew McGowan have argued that the Eucharist was not practiced in NT times, imagine the implications of King’s argument, that the woman who rides the beast in Revelation 17 intends to mock early Christian eucharistic worship by partaking of her own polluted anti-Eucharistic cup, evidencing a polemical travesty of the sacred cup of Christ-followers. For the parallel to work, and since its explanatory power is considerable at least prima facie, then Eucharistic worship must have been present for John’s audience. I think King is on to something here.

There are many others that have slipped through my grasp at present and I will surely follow up if there is interest among readers or enough material for another post.

Blessings,
Michael

Divine Mercy in Wisdom and Romans 9: A Comparison and Contrast

I’ve been busy at work in Romans 9 again recently. Specifically, I’ve been investigating the notion of “mercy” in Second Temple Judaism. “Mercy” shows up in Rom 9–11 without a single occurrence before in the first 8 chapters. Whatever it means, for Paul, it seems to have special relevance to the issue he’s addressing regarding Israel’s unbelief and future in light of his gospel presentation in the book. I’ve discovered something that I won’t reveal now, because I plan to write up an article to submit for publication in the near future.

For the time being, I wanted to share a brief analysis of the similarities and differences between Paul and possibly one of his “sparing partners” in Romans, The Wisdom of Solomon. There have been many scholarly treatments that address some of these elements that would be easy for readers to track down if interested. The most relevant starting point for a the comparison between Wisdom and Romans 9 is found not in Wisdom’s potter/clay language in chap 15 (which is about an idol maker forming idols), but in Wis 12:12–18:

¹² For who will say, “What have you done?” or will resist your judgment? Who will accuse you for the destruction of nations that you made? Or who will come before you to plead as an advocate for the unrighteous? ¹³ For neither is there any god besides you, whose care is for all people, to whom you should prove that you have not judged unjustly; ¹⁴ nor can any king or monarch confront you about those whom you have punished. ¹⁵You are righteous and you rule all things righteously, deeming it alien to your power to condemn anyone who does not deserve to be punished. ¹⁶ For your strength is the source of righteousness, and your sovereignty over all causes you to spare all. ¹⁷ For you show your strength when people doubt the completeness of your power, and you rebuke any insolence among those who know it. ¹⁸ Although you are sovereign in strength, you judge with mildness, and with great forbearance you govern us; for you have power to act whenever you choose. (NRSV)

Paul affirms what is presented there, but he also takes things further with his theological inferences and his potter/clay analogy. When we compare and contrast, we can see that Paul is opposing a position like that represented in Wisdom, especially in Rom 9–11, but probably throughout Romans.

Wisdom 12 refers to God’s judgment against the Canaanites (vv. 3–11). God cannot be accused of injustice, since they were evil and he was patient, but also because he has the right as the creator—“Who will accuse you for the destruction of the nations that you made?” (v. 12b). Similarly, Paul references Isa 29:6 in Rom 9:20, building on this sentiment to argue that God cannot be legetimately questioned in doing the same thing with Israel; God cannot be scrutinized by his creatures. But Paul takes it even further. God is not only righteous in judging the majority of Israel and showing his unconditioned mercy only to some (Rom 9:18, 24; cf. Rom 3:3–8), he also has the authority to form individuals within Israel to accomplish his revelatory ends (Rom 9:21–23). 

For Paul, if Jews who think like the author of Wisdom cannot fault God for his handling of Canaan, they cannot consistently fault God for determining to use rebellious Israel, even if he doesn’t not extend mercy to them all. No one is judged who does not deserve the judgment they receive—“You are righteous and you rule all things righteously, deeming it alien to your power to condemn anyone who does not deserve to be punished” (Wis 12:15)—and Paul goes to great lengths to demonstrate that the Jewish people are justly condemned under sin in Rom 2–3. So, Israel is in the same boat as the idolatrous Canaanites according to Paul, even though the author of Wisdom seems to disagree (see below). 

The common question both answer differently is, then, On what basis will anyone in Israel receive mercy? The answer the author of Wisdom offers is that God is merciful to everyone, he loves all his creatures, and he hates no one, otherwise he would not have made them (Wis 11:21–26). Those who respond to God’s mercy receive what is on offer to all. God does not restrict the offer of his mercy or harden anyone, but he gives everyone, even idolaters, time and opportunity, even through judgment, to repent and enjoy mercy (Wis 12:1–11; 15:1). Israel, however, the author is sure, “will not sin” (Wis 15:2–6). Wisdom suggests, therefore, that God’s mercy is ultimately congruent because it is experienced by those who prove fitting through their response to universal divine grace (see Barclay, Paul and the Gift, 207-11). For Wisdom, those who are eventually judged will not be able to accuse God of wrongdoing precisely because of the delay of his judgment and patient universal extension of his mercy, which are necessary in showing the fittingness of judgment in the author’s thinking (Wis 12:26–27). 

While maintaining the fittingness of God’s judgment, Paul’s perspective is markedly different. God loves some (i.e., extends mercy to some, even among Abraham’s descendants) and hates others (i.e., he does not extend mercy to them; Rom 9:13). God wants (θέλω) to be merciful to some and wants (θέλω) harden others (Rom 9:16, 18, 22–23). God’s mercy is not universally extended, even for Israel, but is realized through a creative call in accordance with divine determination (Rom 9:21–24; cf. Rom 4:17; 8:28–30). When one questions God’s justice (Rom 9:14, 19) Paul’s answer is to insist on the primacy of the divine will (Rom 9:15–18) and divine authority (ἐξουσία; Rom 9:20–23). Paul is explicit, over and against Wisdom, that God’s mercy is not only prior to human response, but is unconditioned by the object (Rom 9:12, 16). God shows mercy as he alone determines, without regard to human measures worth, human works, or even human will (Rom 9:16). 

Greek Grammar and the Theological Meaning of Romans 9:6–29

A friend of mine, Chris Date, and I decided to record a discussion on the Greek text of Rom 9:6–29 and its theological relevance to the nature of divine election. Readers can view that discussion (here). The purpose of this discussion was to drill down into the discourse to see the points that Paul sought to emphasize in his appeals to scripture. Specifically, Paul makes several inferences that reveal the theological meaning he finds in the OT passages he cites throughout this text. I believe that some misinterpretations of Rom 9 have come about because interpreters depart from Paul’s explicit inferences by appeal to their own interpretations of the OT texts he cites. Whether those interpretations are valid is not at issue. To understand Paul, one must follow his argument and give care to his exegetical method (i.e., midrash) to see why he strings together the texts he uses in light of the theological points he wrings from those texts. We sought to explain some of this for audiences who may not have taining in Greek so they can see what Paul’s actual words commend to interpreters.

Since by the very nature of a discussion we sometimes get a little off script, I wanted to include some notes here that readers and viewers could reference for further study. Below are the notes on the grammar of Rom 9:6–26 that observe points I believe are most helpful for discerning Paul’s theological point in the text, which may not be so obvious when reading the English translations alone. I hope readers will find this and the video helpful as they seek to understand this magisterial text.

v. 6

οὐχ οἷον δὲ—Despite the apparant failure of God’s word (i.e., the gospel), such is not the case. Paul has a theology of the divine λόγος such that it categorically cannot fail—lit. “but it is not such.”

The γάρ clause (“for…”, 6b–7) supplies the grounds. Paul is working with a fundamentally different definition of “promissory Israel” (to borrow Michael Bird’s term) from his opponents. On the basis of a proper understanding of Israel, there is no question that the divine word/call (Rom 4:17; 8:28–30) has remained effective. 

vv. 7b–8

The quotation from Gen 21:12 is the first reference to scripture in Rom 9, which is important because it uses the verb καλέω (“to call”), a key term throughout the section. Abraham’s children (the beneficiaries of the covenant) are “named” or “called” with reference to Isaac, not by default simply because they are descendants.

τοῦτ᾽ ἔστιν (“that is”) marks the interpretation or inference Paul is drawing from this text. There are a number of these inferential markers throughout the section. These are probably the most important aspect of the Greek to grasp because they clue us into Paul’s use of scripture and the theological deductions he is extracting from it. These mark his use of scripture as midrash, particularly the use of gezerah shawah, the identification of verbal correspondences to link passages together to form a theological argument from scripture (on midrashic interpretation in Paul see Richard Longenecker, Biblical Exegesis in the Apostolic Period, 2^nd ed (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 18–24; E. Earl Ellis, Paul’s Use of the Old Testament (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2003), 120-4). Paul’s use of midrash in Rom 9–11 is acknowledged by most interpreters.

v. 11

γάρ marks the point Paul wants to make from the story of Jacob and Esau. It’s interesting to see the way he expresses it too. He could have said “neither had done good or evil” (negated concessive participles). Instead, he adds the indefinite pronoun (τι) to say more emphatically that there isn’t “anything” these two said or did that served as a condition for God’s calling Jacob and passing over Esau. 

What is the sole condition? It’s expressed by the purpose ἵνα clause of 11b–12 (“in order that…”). What Paul sees as primary in God’s design is not that objects of his mercy/call meet a particular condition. Rather, it is the sustaining (μένω, “remain” cf. Isa 14:24) of “God’s purpose with regard to election” (ἡ κατ᾽ ἐκλογὴν πρόθεσις τοῦ θεοῦ). 

vv. 12–13

Readers will know that there are a number of significant antitheses in Romans—faithful allegiance to Jesus vs. works of the Torah; human vs. divine initiative etc. V. 12a introduces a new distinct antithesis that we will misconstrue if we interpret it the same way as the faith vs. works antithesis. The latter is between two potential conditions (ἐκ, “by,” “from,” or “because of”) the objects of justification might meet. The former is between “works” (οὐκ ἐξ ἔργων)—human agency—and “the one who calls” (ἀλλ᾽ ἐκ τοῦκαλοῦντος)—divine agency. We need to keep this in mind because the antithesis extends and intensifies when we get to v. 16. Because (καθὼς γέγραπται, “just as it is written”) God determined that election would happen on the basis of divine calling rather than human works, God determined that Esau would serve Jacob, and he “loved” (i.e., chose) Jacob while he “hated” (i.e., did not choose) Esau (vv. 12b–13). The citation of Mal 1:2–3 is used to validate Paul’s point that God’s covenantal love is not conditioned on works of the Torah or other conditions, either negatively or positively, but on the divine call.

v. 14

All this gives good account of the objection in the form of a rhetorical question “God is not unjust, is he?” Readings that try to find a condition in the individual by appeal to the OT (such as Abasciano) do not account well for the objection at this point. If it was a matter of people not meeting conditions, then there would be no question of God’s justice. 

v. 15 

Paul again cites scripture (Exod 33:19) to validate his contention. God is not unjust (μὴ γένοιτο, “certainly not!” v. 14) and the defining story of Israel’s existence (the exodus) says that only God’s mercy and compassion created and continue to sustain them. This verse is a hinge in the argument. It serves to validate Paul’s theological point up till now and to introduce the intensification of that point in what follows. See John Piper, The Justification of God: An Exegetical and Theological Study of romans 9:1–23, 2^nd ed. (Baker, 1993), 75-90, who offers a detailed exegetical argument to show that the Hebrew idiom involved in “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion” (known as idem per idem) means “it is the glory of God and his essential nature mainly to dispense mercy (but also wrath, Ex 34:7) on whomever he pleases apart from any constraint originating outside his own will” (pp. 88-9). This fits hand-in-glove in Paul’s context. 

v. 16

ἄρα οὖν (lit. “so then, therefore”) is an emphatic way to draw out an inference (used again in v. 18). The presence of two inferential particles in succession tells the reader that this is the bottom-line Paul sought to drive home for his audience. Paul also offers another antithesis. Based on Exod 33:19, Paul argues that God’s mercy does not come on the basis of will (οὐ τοῦ θέλοντος) or striving (οὐδὲ τοῦ τρέχοντος) but God’s mercy is its own condition (ἀλλὰ τοῦ ἐλεῶντος θεοῦ). Thus, the antithesis now is not simply between doing and calling, but additionally between “willing” (οὐ τοῦθέλοντος) and God’s unconditioned mercy. This is the only time the human will is mentioned in the pericope and it is brought up to eliminate it as the grounds of God’s calling and mercy. Throughout the passage, on the other hand, the divine will is mentioned a number of times (using various terms—i.e., πρόθεσις [“purpose”] v. 11, βούλημα [“intention” or “decision”] v. 19, and θέλω [“to will” or “desire”] as a verb and twice as a participle in v. 18 and once again in v. 22) as the sole basis for the situation facing Israel. The use of substantival participles (“the one who…”) in the singular (i.e., individuals, which is a notable feature throughout) here in v. 16 expresses a gnomic sense. Paul’s grammar here means that, principally, God’s mercy is never conditioned on human will, worth, or works, but only on God’s character as the one who freely mercies as he determines. 

v. 17 

Pharaoh’s story also substantiates this. This is a citation from Exod 9:16, but Paul has made some interesting changes when we compare his version with the MT and LXX. The LXX has ἕνεκεν τούτου (“for the sake of this”). Paul has changed that to the more emphatic εἰς αὐτὸ τοῦτο (“for this very reason”).  BDF says that Paul’s αὐτὸ τοῦτο means “just this (and nothing else).” The expression stresses the singularity of God’s aim in his manipulation of Pharaoh (on the Hebrew grammar involved in Pharaoh’s hardening, see G. K. Beale, “An Exegetical and Theological Consideration of the Hardening of Pharoah’s Heart in Exodus 4–14 and Romans 9,” TrinJ 5 (1984): 129-54). For Paul, God did not simply “cause [Pharaoh] to stand” (הֶעֱמַדְתִּיךָ, MT; hiphil verb) or “preserve” (διετηρήθης, LXX) him—that is, he did not simply confirm Pharaoh’s obstinance. God actually orchestrated the whole thing. God didn’t simply sustain Pharaoh, he raised him up (ἐξήγειρά σε). Again, for Paul, the primary point isn’t God’s judicial response to Pharaoh’s disobedience, but the divine purpose. This is again emphatic with two uses of ὅπως (“in order that”) + the subjunctive, with God as the subject. The repeated use of the possessive first person personal pronoun with God as the referent (μου…μου, “my…my”) makes it clear that the divine purpose alone compelled the episode of the Exodus plagues, with Pharaoh serving as little more than God pawn (ἐν σοί, “in/by you”). 

v. 18

Thus the emphasis on the divine will (θέλει…θέλει) in Paul’s next inference (ἄρα οὖν once again) is not surprising. As he decided with Pharaoh, Paul argues that God is free to extend mercy or to harden individuals (again, note the use of the singular ὅν) within Israel as he determines, conditioned on nothing other than his purposes (ὅν θέλει, “whom he wills”). 

v. 19 

We are at the second objection. That we are on the right track is clear. Only if Paul’s words are intended to eliminate the human will in order to give sole place to the divine will (τῷ…βουλήματι αὐτοῦ, “his intention”) does the objection that none resists God’s will make sense of the argument at this point. 

vv. 20–21 

The interpretation of v. 20 is debated. Does Paul really answer the objection or does he malign those who would even ask it? Maybe we don’t have to decide between these options. Paul again appeals to scripture (Isa 29:16; 45:9; cf. Jer 18:1–12; Sir 33:7–15) by raising the famous potter/clay analogy. 

The point of Paul’s appeal to Isaiah is clearly to express that God’s designs are beyond human scrutiny. Thus, he offers his own rhetorical question. The potter (God in the analogy) is free (ἔχει ἐξουσίαν; lit. “he has the authority”) to make what he wants from his clay (Israel in the analogy). Paul suggests that God molds “a vessel for honor” (εἰς τιμὴν σκεῦος) or “for dishonor” (εἰς ἀτιμίαν). The preposition εἰς (“for”) in both lines functions in the same way in vv. 22b–23 to express the end for which the vessels were designed. 

v. 22

God’s desire (θέλων, “willing”) is “to show wrath and make known his power.” Purpose is expressed again with two infinitives—ἐνδείξασθαι…γνωρίσαι (“to show…to make known”). This is where Paul brings the analogy of Pharaoh to bear on Israel’s current situation—the same dynamic is at work now.  God is patiently bearing with “vessels of wrath prepared for destruction.” The genitives ὀργῆς (“of wrath”) and ἐλέους (“of mercy”) communicate destination. This appeals to the day of the Lord motif which was emphatic in Rom 2 (on the connection between Rom 9–11 and the day of the Lord motif, see Matthew Arnie and Donald Hartley, The Righteous & Merciful Judge: The Day of the Lord in the Life and Theology of Paul [Lexham Press, 2018], 144-56). The near-universal consensus of scholars is that the perfect participle κατηρτισμένα is not middle voice (“have fitted themselves”) but passive (“have been fitted”; see Daniel B. Wallace, Greek Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament [Zondervan, 1996], 417-8). The scholarship (from various theological perspectives) is virtually unanimous that κατηρτισμένα is a passive voice with God as the agent (known as a “divine passive”). Despite the attempts of a small number of detractors who say otherwise, identifying God as the agent of the verbal action is most natural since Paul is building on the potter/clay analogy (these people are “vessels” after all). The reason that Paul is using the passive voice here, rather than a construction with the active voice as in the parallel line in v. 23, is to maintain the responsibility of those prepared “for destruction” (εἰς ἀπώλειαν) that is, eschatological wrath at the judgment. But the grammar expresses that the nature of the divine determination is asymmetrical. God, the potter, is the definitive agent in the preparation of each vessel, even though this comes about differently in each case.

vv. 23­–24

Where v. 22 had two infinitives to express purpose, v. 23 is a ἵνα clause (“in order that”) signaling that Paul now has in view the more ultimate purpose of God’s patient enduring of the vessels of wrath. The accent is placed here on God’s purpose to reveal (γνωρίσῃ, “to make known”) his magisterial glory upon those “vessels of mercy prepared for glory.” The emphasis falls on God’s aims in revelation through mercy rather than wrath. Those vessels of wrath serve the greater purpose of magnifying the splendor of God’s glorious mercy, which is not conditioned by human acts or will (v. 16).

V. 24 is a relative clause (οὓς καὶ ἐκάλεσεν ἡμᾶς , “even us whom he called”) that stands in apposition to the “vessels of mercy.” The vessels of mercy are those whom God “has called,” both Jew and gentile. The divine call forms them to be vessels of divine mercy (Paul may be alluding to Isa 43:1, 7, 10, 21–22; 44:2; cf. Ps 33:15). It is a creative and effectual call (cf. Rom 4:17; 8:28–30; 2 Clem 1:7–8, which appears to be an early reflection on Rom 9). 

vv. 25–26 

Paul bolsters this with two citations from Hosea (2:23; 1:10). God’s call creates his beloved people out of those who were formerly not his people. Anticipating Rom 11, this includes both gentiles and in the future Israelites who currently do not believe.   

vv. 27–29

The standard translations of Rom 9:27 are misleading to varying degrees. The ESV is typical: “And Isaiah cries out concerning Israel: ‘Though the number of the sons of Israel be as the sand of the sea, only a remnant of them will be saved.’” First, this translation renders the conjunction δέ as “and,” even though it is more likely an adversative to be rendered “but” (so CSB). The adversative reading of δέ is most natural given that the citations from Hosea 2:23 and 1:10 in vv. 25–26, cited as positive support for Paul’s argument, are each introduced with καί in vv. 25–26. Second, ὑπέρ is translated “concerning” (which would normally be indicated by περί) when it more typically means “on behalf of” with a personal object in the genitive (so NET; cf. BDAG 1030.1a). This makes best sense here in the context of Paul’s lament and hope for Israel. Third, the typical translation wrongly renders the quote from Isaiah as a concessive clause (“though”). However, ἐάν with a verb in the subjunctive mood marks the protasis of a conditional clause (so LEB has “if”; cf. BDAG 267.1a; BDF § 371.4; 373.1). Finally, this translation adds “only,” without justification from the Greek text itself. John Paul Heil (“From Remnant to Seed of Hope for Israel: Romans 9:27–29,” CBQ 64 (2002): 703-20) has argued that Rom 9:27–29 introduces the climax to Paul’s argument which is then fully realized at the end of chap 11. He offers the following as a better translation, and I concur: “But Isaiah cries out on behalf of Israel: ‘If the number of the sons of Israel be as the sands of the sea (surely, at least) a remnant will be saved.” (p. 705, my emphasis). As Heil goes on to show, this means that Rom 9:27-29 expresses Paul’s hope for the future salvation of a remnant of Israelites who currently did not believe, in addition to the already believing remnant of which Paul was a part in his day (Rom 11:1–5). These make up the “all Israel” who will certainly be saved in the future (note the future tense σωθήσεται [“will be saved”] occurs in both 9:27 and 11:26) from among those Israelites who currently do not believe. 

Paul uses the expression συντελῶν καὶ συντέμνων in Rom 9:28. It is variously translated and understood—“fully and without delay” (ESV); “completely and quickly” (NET); “quickly and decisively” (NRSV); “with speed and finality” (NIV). However, Heil has demonstrated that the nature of Paul’s conflated citation of the LXX of Isa 10:22b–23 and 28:22b, in comparison with the Hebrew text, suggests that the pair of participles express the idea of “definitively deciding” (ibid., 713-6). Thus, the CSB’s rendering—“completely and decisively”—is closest among contemporary translations. Paul’s point is to anticipate his proclamation at the conclusion of Rom 11 that “all Israel” will certainly be saved in accordance with God’s word of promise. God’s word has not failed, but it is a divine decree which guarantees the results it speaks. This is supported by the quotation of Isa 1:9 in v. 29. Thus, even though Israel is currently “enemies according to the gospel” (i.e., they have not believed, Rom 11:28a) since they are “beloved according to election” (Rom 11:28b), God will certainly have mercy on them (Rom 11:31–32), which is an effective mercy that will result certainly in the salvation of “all Israel” (Rom 11:25–26).

WHY DOES GOD NEED TO HARDEN ANYONE?

Introduction

I was recently invited to discuss Romans 9 with Leighton Flowers on his well-known youtube channel called Soteriology 101. Flowers is a well-known opponent of Calvinism and proponent of what he calls Provisionism (you can learn about this from his many videos). A mutual friend shared my posts on this blog about predestination in Second Temple Judaism and Paul’s letters, so we decided to get together and discuss some of it. We had a very enjoyable discussion on Rom 9 that seems to have been well-received by most who have viewed the video.

As we mentioned multiple times in the video, neither of us had any time to prepare. We had to squeeze the discussion in because my wife was (and still is!) due to deliver any minute now. So, we both did a lot of shooting from the hip, since we were trying to understand the other’s views, which were new in some ways to both of us. We intended to stay in Rom 9, but as always happens, we got into other texts (esp 2 Thess 2) and spent a good deal of time discussing the meaning of Rom 11, which we both believe is crucial for understanding Rom 9 in context. That means we left a lot of meat on the bone, which frustrated some listeners. But that was expected with such a theologically rich passage before us which has been the subject of so much debate in history. So, we hope to get together again in the near future to pick up where we left off.

After the video (which as of today has nearly 2,500 views) I glanced at some of the comments. They were mostly typical of what you find people saying about theological issues on the internet. But one appeared repeatedly, prompting me to rewatch the video. In our conversation, Leighton asked, given my affirmation of total inability and the need for God to do a prior effectual work through the gospel preached in order for anyone to respond in faith, why would God need to harden anyone? This is a good question, which I thought I answered in the discussion. However, when I reviewed my response, I, like several listeners, did not think I gave a clear enough answer. I certainly wasn’t trying to dodge the question. Since we didn’t prepare in advance, we got really off-script, so my response at this point suffered. I own that and agree with the frustration at this point that some expressed. So, since I don’t know when I’ll be able to discuss this again with Leighton, I wanted to give a clear response here in the meantime, which we can toss back and forth when we get together to “geek out” again.

Hardening in Romans 9–11

In my reading Rom 7–8 (which we may need to discuss down the road as well), we see what I believe evidences Paul’s belief in the inability for anyone to respond positively to God’s revelation apart from a prior and effective liberating work that frees them from the grips of the flesh, sin, and death to do so. The “I” of Rom 7 is in a hopeless state, wanting to obey God’s law but incapable of doing so. He is in the flesh, meaning he is void of the Spirit who empowers God’s people to obey the righteous requirement of the law (Rom 8:3–4). As the prophet Ezekiel indicated, it would only be when he gives his people the Spirit that they would be enabled to obey (Ezek 36:26). They have a “heart of stone” and he needs to give them a new fleshly heart, thereby he will “cause [them] to walk in” (the verb is in the hifil stem) obedience. Based on the NT use of this and other imagery from Ezekiel, this divinely caused obedience include enlivening to faith and repentance (on this see Preston Sprinkle’s Paul and Judaism Revisited).

The question is asked by non-determinist interpreters of Rom 9–11, “Why does God need to harden those who are already unable to respond apart from a prior and effective divine call?” Using Ezekiel’s prophecy as the background, in light of Rom 8:3–4, we might frame the question with better respect for Paul’s context this way: “Why has God given the new hear and his Spirit to a church made up of mostly gentiles while most Israelites continue in their unbelief and disobedience?” The answer from Rom 9–11 is that God addresses this inability in one of two ways when one is confronted with the gospel preached. God hardens some and has mercy on the others (Rom 9:15–18; 11:7, 25). This is a way of saying that these “vessels” which God the potter forms (Rom 9:21–23) describe the response to the gospel that he determines. Paul is emphatic that what happens takes place according to God’s electing purpose (v. 12) and free mercy (vv. 16, 18) and takes no account of the human will (οὐ τοῦ θέλοντος). One is either hardened and fashioned as a vessel of wrath or receives glory as a vessel of mercy as the potter sees fit (Rom 9:19–23). Paul uses an infinitives ἐνδείξασθαι and γνωρίσαι (“to show…make known”) in v. 22 and a ἵνα clause in v. 23 to express God’s revelatory purpose in this hardening. He wants “to make known” his “wrath,” “power,” and “the riches of his glory.” This alerts us to the contextual nuance of the hardening described here, especially when we read through chap. 11.  In the immediate context, Paul’s point is to address Israel’s response to the gospel specifically. Thus, departing from typical Calvinist interpretations, I see “the same lump” (Rom 9:21) as a reference to specifically to the Jewish people. Israel’s hardening, like Pharaoh’s (Rom 9:17) is being used to reveal God’s self to the nations, both in their determined rejection now and in their future reception of mercy. As Rom 11:11–15, 25–32 makes clear, God hardens and “mercies” as he freely determines (9:18), in order to bring salvation to the world. Only on the basis of broader Pauline usage can we extend the idea of divine hardening to gentile unbelievers. Paul also uses hardening imagery (πωρόω/πώρωσις and σκληρύνω/σκληρότης/σκληρός) elsewhere to describe all those who are not beneficiaries of God’s mercy, including gentiles. This includes the condition of those who eventually believe prior to their conversion and those who remain in darkness outside the new creation, who are thus destined for judgment (compare Rom 2:5; 2 Cor 3:14; 4:3–4 and Eph 4:18 to Eph 2:1–4). The distinction is God’s effectual call (Rom 8:28–30; 9:24; 1 Cor 1:26–31; 2 Cor 4:3–6; 1 Thess 2:12; cf. 1 Pet 2:9).

Still, even though the focus on the hardening of Israel is God’s purpose to effect salvation among the nations, Rom 11:5–8 indicates that nothing less than salvation is at stake for those Jews who die in this hardened condition (cf. Rom 9:3; 10:1). God will reverse her hardening and save “all Israel” (Rom 11:25–26). Israel’s hardening is a means to a greater end, at least in the case of those in that future age when God’s purposes in their hardening, the inclusion of “the fullness of the gentiles,” is realized. In this age they are hardened rather than receiving God’s mercy, but in the future, he will have mercy, thereby reversing their hardening (Rom 11:30–32). However, this also means that those who die still confined to disobedience, those who do not receive the eschatological mercy described here, are vessels of wrath prepared for destruction (Rom 9:22), that is, eternal condemnation (cf. Rom 2:5, 8; 5:9; 1 Cor 1:18–19; 8:11; 10:9–10; 15:18; 2 Cor 2:15; 4:3; Eph 5:6; Phil 1:28; 3:19; Col 3:6; 1 Thess 1:10; 5:9; 2 Thess 2:3, 10; 1 Tim 6:9 for the meaning of the language of “wrath” and “destruction”). Hence the urgency with which Paul seeks to encourage continuing Jewish missions (Rom 10:13–17).

So, in response to the universal resistance of God’s grace apart from God’s deliverance of his people from “this body of death” or enslavement to the flesh, sin, and death (Rom 7:18–19, 24; 8:6–8), God either extends mercy or hardens through the proclaimed gospel. Hardening is the what happens to everyone who God has not been merciful to (Rom 9:18). Those who die so hardened, including Israelites, were fashioned for destruction (Rom 9:22). However, in the case of “all Israel” in the age when God’s mission to the gentiles is complete, this hardening will be reversed when God shows them mercy in accordance with the promises he made to the patriarchs (Rom 11:25–29).

WHO IS THE “I” OF ROMANS 7?

Introduction

 Especially since the Reformation, the interpretation of Romans 7 has been hotly debated among Protestants. Calvin and most of his theological heirs have believed that Paul was speaking of the battle with sin that he faced and that all Christian face. It is argued that only Christians “delight in the law.” Therefore, only Christians can suffer the frustration of disobedience in spite of their sincere desire to obey, as described in Romans 7. But Arminians, other Christian traditions, and a few Calvinist detractors have seen some problems with this reading. Some scholars have read this as Paul speaking in the persona of Adam. Others have argued that Paul is describing the inevitable failure to obey God’s law for anyone without life in Christ and the indwelling of the Spirit.

The iterative use of the first-person pronoun (“I,” “me,” “my”) along with the present tense verbs throughout the passage makes the identification of the “I” of Romans 7 as Paul and the Christian a natural assumption. Moreover, I readily acknowledge the appeal of this view.  The universal Christian struggle with sin hits home with every believer with whom I’ve ever had an honest discussion about sin. However, this common experience cannot be our guide to interpretation. We must seek to validate our interpretations of difficult texts by appeal to the author’s argument understood within the passage’s unique literary and historical context. Therefore, I’ll argue here that when we read Romans 7 within the broader context of Romans 1–11, the interpretation that finds the Christian’s continuing struggle in view runs into insurmountable problems. While some interpreters who see Adam in view here are a bit contrived, I think the echoes of Gen 3 are apparent. Since Adam’s story of disobeying God’s command looks forward to Israel’s story of disobeying the Torah, leading ultimately to the nation’s exile, it makes sense that scholars have detected such allusions and echoes. I’m going to present an argument that in Romans 7 Paul is describing the experience of Israel with the law. The Jewish people valued the Torah, but they were unable to obey it. Instead of giving the life it promised (see Lev 18:5), since they did not possess the Spirit, their disobedience led to death (Rom 7:10–11). Although they delighted in God’s law (Psalm 1), they were left in desperate need of deliverance through Christ, and only by the power of the indwelling Spirit within the new covenant people is the law’s purpose realized through faithful obedience.

Paul’s Defense of the Law: Introducing the Problem 

Paul’s thesis in Romans is that all of humanity is in need of justification apart from the law (e.g., Rom 1:16–17; 3:21–26). The Torah does not offer righteousness but reveals to the entire world their need for justification by means other than the law. The law’s purpose in God’s plan was to judge the entire world guilty of sin (Rom 3:19–20) and even to increase trespasses in order to magnify the glorious abundance of God’s grace in Christ (Rom 5:20–21). Thus, Paul says in Romans 7:5 that the law “aroused” sin leading to death (cf. Rom 5:12–21).

But this explanation of the law created a problem for Paul, especially among Jewish Christians (like himself) who held the law in high esteem as God’s revelation. Anyone who grew up singing the praise of the Torah in songs like Psalm 119 could not simply discard the law as though it were antithetical to God’s grace in an absolute sense. Paul agrees. He insists that his gospel upholds and does not nullify the law (Rom 3:31). The Torah’s purpose finds its telos in Christ so that we might have the righteousness that effects eschatological life, which it was never intended to provide (Rom 10:4). Thus, in Romans 7, Paul is adamant that the law itself is not evil. The law is not sin, but it reveals sin (Rom 7:7). Sin uses the good law to produce sin, which would otherwise have laid dormant within us (Rom 7:8) or gone uncounted (Rom 5:13). But, the Torah is not the problem. It is “holy and righteous and good” (Rom 7:12) and “spiritual” (Rom 7:14). Sin used what was good to effect death, but this happened according to God’s intention to reveal the plight of sin and to answer it through the death and resurrection of the Messiah (Rom 7:13).

It is at this point that the problems arise. The “I” desires to obey God’s law, but is unable. He does not do what he wants but does what he hates (7:15). He’s enslaved to a force greater than his desire. He delights in God’s law, he wants to do right, but he is unable to follow through with obedience and instead chooses evil (7:21–23). We’ll need to consider the wider argument to determine who the “I” is.

The “I” Cannot Be Paul the Christian or the Christian More Generally

When we consider the context, the view that Paul is speaking of his own Christian experience with the law, which is therefore considered the normative Christian experience, creates major inconsistencies in Paul’s argument, especially in Romans 5–8. Beginning in Romans 5:12, Paul has established a dualism within humanity—everyone is either “in Adam” or “in Christ.” Sin reigns over, oppresses, condemns, and leads to death those who are in Adam, whereas those who are in Christ have righteousness, reconciliation, and life. The description of those who are in Adam sounds very much like the experience of the “I” of Romans 7. Sin enters through the law and death reigns over those in Adam (Rom 5:12–14). Likewise, for the “I” of Romans 7, sin produced death through the law (Rom 7:13). Thus, the “I” is “sold under sin” (Rom 7:14), “captive to the law of sin” (Rom 7:23), needs deliverance from the “body of death” (Rom 7:24), and “serves the law of sin” (Rom 7:25). In other words, based on this comparison, the “I” is “in Adam,” not “in Christ.”

The problems continue when we move on to Romans 6. Those who have been united to Christ by baptism have shared in his death and resurrection. Therefore, it is unthinkable that they should continue in sin in order that grace might somehow shine brighter (Rom 6:1–4). They now share the new life of the resurrection, so they are empowered to walk accordingly. The “old self” of those who are now “in Christ” was crucified with him, thus rendering “the body of sin” impotent, meaning they are “no longer…enslaved to sin” (Rom 6:6–7). Death does not have any authority over those who share in Christ’s resurrection. Therefore, those who are in Christ need to think accordingly and walk in their newfound freedom as slaves of God (Rom 6:8–14). Since they are no longer under sin’s lordship they are free to pursue sanctification and life in service to God (Rom 6:15–23). But, as we just saw, the “I” of Romans 7 is not so liberated but is still tragically enslaved to sin.

Furthermore, when we move on to Romans 8, we see that the Spirit enables those who are in Christ to obey the law, which the “I” of Romans 7 is unable to do. The “I” needs deliverance from his wretched condition under sin’s dominion (Rom 7:24), but those who are “in Christ Jesus” are not so condemned (Rom 8:1). By the Spirit, they have been set free from what enslaved the “I” of Romans 7—“the law of sin and death” (Rom 8:2). God has met their impotence by giving his Son for them to condemn sin and by providing the power of the Spirit to effect obedience, as the Prophets foretold (Rom 8:3–4). Those who are in Christ are not those who are “of the flesh” (Rom 7:14). To be “of the flesh” means one does not have the Spirit. They, therefore, do not walk in obedience, since they categorically cannot please God (Rom 8:5–8). But those who have the Spirit “are not in the flesh” as the “I” of Romans 7 is. Those in the flesh, like the “I” of Romans 7, do not belong to Christ, because no one void of the Spirit does (Rom 8:9).

Paul’s iterative descriptions of the Christian in Romans 5, 6, and 8 are the categorical opposites of the “I” of Romans 7. So, while Christians may identify with the struggle of the “I,” identifying him as a Christian would make Paul contradictory beyond comprehension. Therefore, we need to consider alternative possibilities.

The “I” As Israel in Retrospect of the Christ Event

When we read the NT in its canonical order, we are first introduced to the Apostle Paul in Acts 8–9 as the zealous Pharisee, Saul of Tarsus, who is busy persecuting the church, seeking to end by violent means what he saw as a dangerous heretical movement around a cursed, pretend messiah. He had no idea of any deficiency in his religious experience. Like most Jews of his day, he imagined that the Torah provided every resource Israel needed for restoration. If the people would sincerely obey the law, God would raise up his messiah and deliver them from the gentile oppression they had suffered for several hundred years. He believed he was “blameless” with regard to “righteousness under the law” (Phil 3:6). In other words, not only did Paul, like all Jews, “delight in the law” in a real sense, he believed that he had successfully met its demands, until his encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus. This sent him back to the drawing board to think afresh to discover the true purpose of the law (among other things) and to discover what Israel’s true plight was all along, in light of the solution he had discovered in Christ.

Thus, it is not true that it is categorically impossible that anyone other than a regenerate Christian should delight in the law in any sense, at least not for Paul. If you read the Torah Psalms (esp. 119), you’ll see that the Israelites praised the law as a revelation from God. If you read the Second Temple Jewish literature, you’ll see that this love for the law continued. So, it simply isn’t true that non-Christians cannot delight in the law in a real sense, as the “I” of Romans 7 does. In fact, their delight in the law, because it is not properly calibrated, is part of the cause for Israel’s plight, according to Paul in Romans. That is, they have a misguided boast in the law that caused them to miss their need for God’s grace apart from the law. This, I propose, is the key observation that will help us understand Romans 7 consistently within the context of the argument of Romans. Let me sketch this out, all too briefly.

After introducing his thesis for the letter in Romans 1:16–17, Paul mounts an argument in support, leading up to a more climatic and fuller restatement of the thesis in 3:21–26, which he further validates in 3:27–11:36. He begins in 1:18–32 by arguing what didn’t need to be argued for any Jewish reader, Christian or not, that the gentiles stand accountable before God for their idolatry and are justly condemned under God’s righteous wrath. However, in Romans 2 Paul quickly deflates any Jewish ego that this observation might have inflated. The Jewish people in Paul’s day prided themselves on being the covenant people. And what marked them out as the covenant people over against the idolatrous gentiles? They had the law (and circumcision, of course)! Indeed, their possession of the Torah is a benefit for the Jew (Rom 3:1–2; cf. 9:4). But Paul demonstrates that their boast is misguided. They “rely on the law” and boast in it, believing they know God’s will because of its instruction, but they walk in hypocrisy (Rom 2:17–24). They condemned sin while stealing, committing adultery, and robbing temples. Thus, because of them, God’s reputation was tarnished among the gentiles, whom they were called to enlighten. Therefore, they too will be judged by the law and condemned for only hearing the Torah but failing to obey (Rom 2:12–13). It is only those who have the new covenant blessing of the Spirit/circumcision of the heart—including gentiles—who truly obey the law (Rom 2:14–16, 25–29). Since the Jews too are sinful, the law proves to reveal their just condemnation and precludes their boast (Rom 3:19–20, 27–31).

In light of the revelation of God’s righteousness in Christ apart from the law (Rom 3:21), Paul can look back at the Jewish relationship to the Torah in a new light. He too once saw it as a cause for boasting. He delighted in the law, in part, because he saw it as a badge that kept him within the realm of God’s grace. But with the Messiah’s death and resurrection, he learned that righteousness is not attainable by the law. God’s design was to use the law to reveal and increase sin, in order to magnify his grace in Christ and demolish all cause for human boasting. Thus, because of sin, the law proved to effect death rather than life. The “I” of Romans 7 is Paul the Jew before he knew Jesus as Messiah, and by extension the honest Jew, who reflects on the law in light of the revelation of God’s righteousness in Christ. This also explains the lament and anguish Paul expresses in Romans 9–11. In spite of of all their privilege, the Jews, by and large, did not understand the Torah’s purpose. They pursued the law (they delighted in it in this sense) believing it would lead them to righteousness. But it was powerless to do so because righteous comes by faith, not works of the law (Rom 9:30–33). Indeed, they are zealous about the law (Rom 10:2), as Paul had been. But they misunderstood the Torah’s role to point to the Messiah, so they tried to establish their own righteousness instead (Rom 10:3–4).

Everything fits nicely if the “I” refers to Paul in retrospect as an unbelieving Jew, and thereby all Jews by extension “who know the law” but do not have the Spirit (Rom 7:1). They were the ones bound to the Torah by covenant like a wife is bound to her husband in marriage barring his death (Rom 7:1–3). In Christ, they are freed from the tyranny of sin and death through the law in order to be bound to Christ, where there is life and righteousness, so that they may be fruitful by the Spirit, rather than the law (Rom 7:4–6).

Summary and Conclusion

By God’s design, the law produced death for those who were “in the flesh.” Like Adam, they were given a law to live by, but through disobedience, they are doomed to suffer death. The law’s demands are only fulfilled by those who have the Spirit, who does not dwell in the “I” of Romans 7. The “I” delights in God’s law, but it isn’t a pure delight. It is the delight of boasting. Thus, his attempts to obey fail. The frustration of failing to obey reveals his desperate need for deliverance from an enslaving force he cannot perceive. But this proper introspection is Paul’s in retrospect. Elsewhere Paul says the eyes of the Jewish people are covered by a veil that is only lifted in Christ (2 Cor 3:14–17; cf. Rom 11:7–10).

The battle against sin is real. Paul’s answer is not the despair of the “I” in Romans 7. It is found in Romans 6 and 8. Everyone in Christ has been liberated from sin’s dominion and empowered by the Spirit to obey the righteous requirement of the law and kill sin in their lives. They are no longer in the flesh but in the Spirit. Therefore, they owe sin, death, and the flesh nothing, but owe God their exclusive devotion and allegiance. They are to offer themselves as living sacrifices to God as they have their minds renewed and transformed (Rom 12:1–2). They are marked with God’s seal, which is the Holy Spirit, because of their participation in Christ’s death and resurrection. The task of the Christian in ridding ourselves of sin is to identify properly and completely as slaves of God because of our union with Christ and the life of the Spirit within us. While it’s reasonable for Christians to identify with the “I” of Romans 7, that is a mistaken application of the passage that arises from a misguided interpretation.

Finding The Gospel: My Take on the Bates/McKnight VS. Gilbert Debate

If you’re reading this, you’re probably aware of the Evangelical theological controversy that’s flooding social media due to a combination of its significance and the sheerer boredom we all desperately want to relieve! In all seriousness, this is an important topic that would have been as significant had it come up at any time. In the recent T4G conference, in a talk entitled “What the Gospel Is and Is Not (see the transcript here), Greg Gilbert levels the accusation against Matthew Bates and Scot McKnight that they “take the story of Jesus’s kingship and divorce it from the realities of personal salvation, forgiveness, atonement, and justification.” Bates and McKnight responded in turn (here and here), believing that Gilbert caricatures their positions reasserting that they are more in line with the biblical witness about what the gospel is. Each cited their books, showing that they do not “divorce” the gospel from personal salvation, but view the latter as a result or benefit of the former. The two must be distinguished, but not “divorced.” Gilbert has responded to their responses (here) holding his ground and re-affirming his accusation of “divorce.” He too cited his published works, demonstrating that the kingdom has a prominent place in his theology, but that the gospel is only good news if it includes both the kingdom and the personal benefits of justification by faith and forgiveness of sin (in fact, the original title to his response article [since changed] was “Jesus Is King Is Not Good News”). Gilbert suggests that the debate is really about semantics so that his charge was not baseless.

Many excellent scholars have chimed in since, giving some very wise and thoughtful responses. So, why would I bother adding my opinion? Because I sort of feel like I have one foot on each side of the border in more than one sense. My theological rearing happened in the Reformed-Evangelical world. I was hugely influenced by many of the leading voices in T4G and other connected organizations. However, as I had the opportunity to study the Bible academically, my view has become more nuanced as I’ve been exposed to the broader world of biblical and theological scholarship. I still value some of the voices from this broad camp (though not so much from T4G), but my academic work made me critical of some of the common thinking. One of the major problems, in my read on the tradition, is a lot of “theological inbreeding,” so that, at least among pastors and in churches they influence, there is little exploration of Christian thought outside of the tradition, especially from the academy. Also, I imagine myself as something of a “pastor-theologian” (see the Gerald Hiestand and Todd Wilson’s book, The Pastor Theologian). I pastor a local church and I try to read widely in NT studies, hoping one day to get around to doing a PhD in the field. Gilbert is an influential pastor, while Bates and McKnight are academics. Perhaps a wanna-be pastor-theologian can help people from these (sadly) distinct spheres come to the table together sometime before the new heavens and earth.

In this Reformed-Evangelical tradition, in my experience at least, when the gospel is defined there is a disproportionate emphasis placed on personal salvation to the neglect of the biblical emphasis on the arrival of the eschatological kingdom of God in the death, resurrection, and exaltation of Jesus. The gospel was never explained to me in terms of the kingdom. The gospel was presented as the message that because of Jesus’ death we are saved by faith and not works.  In other words, the gospel was presented as essentially identical with the Protestant/Reformed/Evangelical doctrine of justification by faith alone. The arrival of the kingdom in Christ, as far as I knew, wasn’t the gospel.

Of course, I imagine that most of the leaders in this camp would check the right blocks on a theological exam (though there is some difference of opinion, with at least one vocal dispensationalist who identifies the kingdom with the purported future millennial kingdom). But what trickles down to the pews is a focus on the personal benefits of the gospel, to the point that I do not believe most people in these churches could explain what “the kingdom of God” is. That was my experience. I was a theologically astute lay-person in my early 20’s. I an eagerly growing theological nerd, devouring theological texts, starting to teach myself greek, and had dozens of important soteriological passages memorized. If you had asked me anything about election, regeneration, redemption, reconciliation, or justification, I had an answer with chapter and verse ready. But, I didn’t know what to make of the kingdom. What does it have to do with Israel? Is it to be identified with the church? Is it the millennium? Is it realized in the new creation? These were questions I was asking but didn’t find helpful answers to in this camp—certainly not in the church. It wasn’t until I went to Bible college (at an institution that’s part of the Stone-Campbell tradition) and seminary, that I began to read works that treated the pervasive biblical theme of the kingdom, that I learned that the gospel is much broader than a message about personal salvation. So, I think there is much that the T4G crowd has to learn from writers like Bates, McKnight, Wright, and others, at least as it relates to ensuring that people in the pews understand and give proper place to the kingdom. I hope this debate doesn’t cause them to hunker down and fortify their position, but to listen and try to bring some needed biblical nuance so that the kingdom theme will come to enjoy the pride of place these church that the Bible commends to us.

But I also have problems with Bates’ position (I haven’t yet read McKnight’s King Jesus Gospel, but I am a fan of his). In his CT article responding to Gilbert, he makes this the strong claim: “Scripture never says our justification by faith is part of the gospel” (his emphasis). Bates has sought to isolate what might be called “the gospel proper” from the benefits of the gospel—i.e., personal salvation, among others. We might say that he seeks to distinguish between the objective gospel—that Jesus has become king through his death, resurrection, and exaltation—from the subjective blessings God applies to Christ’s people by the Spirit—namely, forgiveness, reconciliation, and eternal life.

As Bates again pointed out, he has strong scriptural warrant for taking up this task. Outside of Romans, Galatians, and Philippians, justification is only mentioned in passing in a handful of Pauline texts. Outside of Paul, it’s essentially absent (but see Jas 2). But the gospel is pervasive; it’s the essential theme in every NT book. For these reasons, I side with scholars who don’t even think justification is the “center” of Paul’s theology (I very much like Constantine Campbell’s web analogy with regard to Paul’s union with Christ language). This doesn’t mean that justification is unimportant, either for Paul or for NT theology. Romans and Galatians have always been heavy hitters in the theological line up of the church and academy. But the essential silence on the subject outside of these books should caution against giving it more weight than it was meant to bear. So, justification by faith should not be identified with the gospel nor should the broader category of personal salvation. Bates (rightly) appeals to Rom 1:16, where the gospel is “God’s power for salvation…” So, salvation is effected through the gospel, but it is not properly identifiable with the gospel, as in the Gospels, Acts, Hebrews, the Catholic Epistles, and Revelation. Clearly, the early church could properly present the gospel without the Pauline doctrine of justification by faith. So, he’s following N. T. Wright’s (in)famous statements in his earlier works on Paul suggesting that the gospel is not about how humans get saved.

While I believe these corrections are crucial, I concerned that they may be overstated. For evidence, I’d point to Galatians, where Paul argues that to embrace a position other than his presentation about justification amounts to “turning to a differing gospel” (Gal 1:6). By rejecting his view of justification, the false teachers he opposed “distort the gospel of Christ” (Gal 1:7). For Paul, his doctrine of justification is so closely tied to the gospel that he can refer to the former with a reference to the latter. He believes that the gospel is lost when justification is denied. That’s profound and must be given its due weight. Now, I think Paul may be using metonymy (naming the results and benefits of the gospel to speak of the gospel proper). But this connection must have been very tight in Paul’s mind for him to have been comfortable writing this. It’s true that the other NT writers speak of the gospel without describing justification by faith or personal salvation (although John’s gospel does have an iterative emphasis on individual salvation for those who believe in place of the term “gospel,” which neve occurs in John). The best treatment of this apparant disparity in NT theology that I’ve come across is presented by Nils Dahl, where he suggests that the broader language about “righteousness” can connect these differing NT emphases. However, I think Bates may be overcorrecting a genuine mistake.

This all makes me wonder if the problem is more about misplaced emphasis rather than one being right and the other wrong (although I am inclined more in the direction of Bates/McKnight). On both sides, in published works, you will find the coupling of treatments of the gospel with an important place given to personal salvation. The Reformed-Evangelical camp, it seems to me, is guilty of wrongly emphasizing individual salvation without proper grounding that in the biblical story of the kingdom of God coming to life in the death, resurrection, and exaltation of Jesus. The place this has been most glaringly problematic (again, in my experience) is in the church. The push-back has offered a critical correction. But they may be guilty of over-reacting. Who is guilty of “the greater sin”? In my opinion, for all their love of scripture and doctrine, it’s the T4G crowd, represented by Gilbert. But the error on the other side is meaningful too. One Facebook friend suggested that the problem may be that the quest for “a gospel proper,” while commendable, ultimately creates another problem. These two—the “king Jesus gospel” and personal salvation—might really be like conjoined twins who share a brain whom no surgeon dares to operate on for risk the loss of life, so the twins need to get along! My hope is that both sides will try to listen and be critics of their own arguments so that the church can mutually grow through this essential dialogue.

My Thousand-Year Journey: A Case for Amillennialism in Revelation 20 (Part 2)

The Shortcomings of Premillennialism

In this post, I want to discuss the problems I found with the interpretation that I was first taught (premillennialism), which led me to venture into alternative readings in search of an interpretation that could explain all that we find in Rev 20 and the rest of the Bible. Another alternative, postmillennialism, will not be discussed here. With all published interpretations by credentialed NT scholars, I have never found the postmillennial reading of Rev 20 (or the system) plausible, even though I appreciate some of the system’s theological values. So, while I don’t intend to be dismissive, in order to keep these posts focused where most readers are, I will not engage postmillennialism. The discussion of the problems with premillennialism in this post will pave the way for my positive explanation of the imagery in Rev 20 in the posts that follow.

Premillennialism Defined

Premillennialism is the view that Jesus will return, arrest and imprison Satan, effect a partial resurrection to establish a world-wide, but temporary (usually thought to be literally 1,000 years) kingdom here on earth. This reign will come to an end when Satan is released and allowed to inspire a rebellion against Jesus and his people. This rebellion is quickly stamped out. Then, there is a second, this time universal, resurrection, followed by the judgment of the ungodly, and the new creation, which is the eternal state. This system is based largely on what its proponents believe is the literal (and obvious) meaning of Rev 20 along with many OT passages that express the hope of a universal earthly kingdom (e.g. Isa 65–66; Ezek 40–48; Zech 14) in fulfillment of God’s covenant promises to Abraham (Gen 12) and David (2 Sam 7).

My Journey From Premillennialism

I cut my teeth on the Bible in a strongly dispensational premillennial church. This wasn’t the scholarly dispensationalism of Dallas Theological Seminary, where I received my seminary education. This was the popular-level, Left Behind, “let’s see if we can figure out who the Anti-Christ is,” prophecy conference once a month, the rapture is happening next Tuesday, kind of dispensationalism. I’m not trying to be insulting, but it was really like this. There were many wonderful things about this church and the tradition it hails from. Most formatively for me, this community drilled into my head that the Bible is God’s authoritative word and that I needed to go where it leads me if I wanted to know God and follow Jesus faithfully. So, while I think some of the theology I was taught there is foreign to anything we find in scripture, I’m thankful for the love of the Bible this community cultivated in me. Once I left this church, I soon found myself unsatisfied with the case they made for their belief in a pre-tribulation rapture (which I had been zealous to defend before). I was quickly convinced that there is no biblical basis for this teaching, which no one believed before the late 19th century. Although it became very popular in the 20th century in the US, you will hardly find credentialed a NT scholar advocating it in publications today, even among those who teach at institutions that require their faculty to affirm belief in it. It is recognized by virtually every NT scholar who publishes peer-reviewed works that the prooftexts used to make the argument (e.g. 1 Cor 15; 1 Thess 4) do not refer to an invisible return of Jesus to secretly rapture of the church, but to the resurrection hope of believers at the parousia to judge unbelievers and consummate the new creation.

Still, after becoming convinced that a pre-tribulation rapture isn’t biblical, I maintained my belief in premillennialism for a little while, because I was taught that other views argued through “spiritualizing” biblical prophecy, which meant degrading the Bible’s authority. The non-dispensational variety is often labeled “historic premillennialism” because it was espoused by influential early church fathers (e.g., Papias, Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, and Tertullian; though the blanket claim that “all the early fathers were premillennial” is incorrect). However, the more I read, the more I learned that many people who held as high a view of the Bible as I do, but who could read it in the original languages (as I was learning to by this time), and published influential peer-reviewed research on the relevant texts, found tremendous problems in the premillennial reading. I also learned that premillennialism, although ancient, and probably the view held by the majority of Evangelicals today, is not the view most Christian theologians throughout history have held. So, I thought it was important to consider the problems they see in premillennialism and listen carefully to the arguments for alternative readings of Rev 20, so that at least I wouldn’t be guilty of dismissing them based only on a hopeful and blissful ignorance. But, when I heard the arguments I was faced with many insurmountable problems with the premillennial view that I couldn’t unhear. Soon, I became convinced that premillennialism lacks explanatory value in Rev 20 and biblical eschatology more broadly.

Problems with Premillennialism

Let me explain the three problems that seemed most powerful here.

First, when we look at other eschatological discourses in the NT (as well as the OT), we don’t find anything that looks like the premillennial system. You will look in vain at texts like Mark 13 (and it parallels in Matt 24–25 and Luke 17; 21), Rom 8, 1 Cor 15, 1 Thess 4, 2 Thess 1–2, 2 Pet 3 for a temporary earthly reign of Jesus, sandwiched between two partial resurrections, and interrupted by a satanically inspired rebellion in defiance of Jesus’ physical reign on earth. Instead, despite some creative efforts, what you find in these texts is simpler. Christians persevere in this age in the hope that Jesus will return, raise all the dead in a single universal resurrection event, judge the wicked, vindicate his people, and share life with them eternally in the new heavens and new earth. 1 Cor 15 is especially instructive. In vv. 20–26, Paul describes the future resurrection of those who belong to “Christ, the firstfruits,” which is followed immediately by “the end” (v. 24) when Jesus gives the Father his kingdom after having subdued every enemy, the last of which is death—based on Isa 25:8, also alluded to in Rev 20:14, after the millennium. For Paul, the “death of death” happens at the resurrection, not 1,000 years later. The resurrection immediately inaugurates the eternal new creation kingdom. This is clear when we go on to vv. 50–57. The “kingdom of God” (v. 50) refers to the eternal state. It’s interesting that “flesh and blood” (referring to unresurrected humans) cannot inherit this kingdom, while premillennialism requires that unresurrected people inhabit the kingdom based on their reading of Rev 20. However, for Paul, this categorically cannot happen. The kingdom of God, in its consummated state, is the new creation, which will be enjoyed only by God’s resurrected people (v. 52), beginning immediately after death is annihilated (vv. 53–56). Although some have tried, there simply is no room here to fit a 1,000-year kingdom, as premillennialists understand it.

Second, much of the premillennialist case rests on a chronological understanding of Rev 19–22, where Jesus returns (19:11–21), imprisons Satan (20:1–3), and resurrects his people alone and establishes the millennial earthly kingdom (20:4–6). This is followed by Satan’s release and rebellion (20:7–9) and concluded with a lengthy vision of universal resurrection, judgment, and new creation (20:10–22:5). While this argument seems strong at first, it creates has problems that are seldom acknowledged by premillennialists. I already referenced 1 Cor 15:50, which says that unresurrected people cannot inherit the kingdom. But the premillennial reading this section requires that they do, since otherwise there is no one but resurrected believers in the millennium for Satan to deceive. However, according to Rev 19:11–21, when Jesus returns he kills everyone except his people who he has returned to save. In Rev 19:17–18, an angel calls the vultures to feast on “the flesh of kings, generals, and the mighty…and the flesh of all people, free and slave, great and small.” Least we think this isn’t universal, v. 21 says “the rest [of unredeemed humanity] were killed with the sword coming out of” Christ’s mouth. There is no neutrality in Revelation that could leave open the possibility that some unbelievers are not judged in this parousia scene. Everyone either follows Jesus to the death and received ultimate vindication when he returns or they take the mark of the Beast and will suffer judgment (Rev 13:16–17; 14:9–11; 20:4). But, this means there can be no unresurrected, unbelieving nations for Satan to deceive in Rev 20, if the millennium vision is chronologically subsequent to Jesus’ return as depicted in Rev 19. When you read even the best premillennialist commentaries on Rev 19 and 20, you see that this is a problem they have a very hard time solving. As I’ll argue in a later post, there are compelling reasons to take Rev 20 as a recapitulation of Rev 19 (two complementary perspectives on what will transpire at the parousia), because of these problems and based on John’s use of the OT here and for the broader structure of Revelation.

Third, the OT passages that are often thought to present a hope that looks like the premillennialist expectation are not referenced in Rev 20. This wouldn’t be a problem, except that such passages are mentioned in Revelation (a book littered with OT allusions), primarily in depictions of the new creation, especially in Rev 21–22 follow the vision of the millennium. This makes Revelation tremendously valuable for establishing a biblical eschatology since he plots so much OT material in relation to Jesus’ death, resurrection, exaltation, and second advent (see Brian J. Tabb, All Things New: Revelation as Canonical Capstone, NSBT 48, InterVarsity, 2019). If John saw the prophetic hopes of the kingdom of God fulfilled in the new creation and not the millennium, then that should impact our interpretation of Rev 20 and the theology we derive from it.

I’ll build on these points in my positive case. 

Conclusion

These are the main issues that led me to search for a better way of reading Rev 20. All interpretations have some degree of difficulty. However, I believe the reading I will propose in the following posts has less significant issues than the problems with premillennialism that I’ve explained here. While further critique of the premillennial reading will be unavoidable, I will focus my attention on providing a positive case for my celestial millennial understanding of Rev 20:1–6.