Declarations
Commentary
The year was 1934. Times were difficult around the world, and particularly so in the repressed economic and political climate of post-World War I Germany. But recovery was in sight. A group of theologians at Wurtemburg saw a rising star of hope and penned together a declaration of faith that would be signed by 600 pastors of churches and 14 theology professors at seminaries.
Their promising statement included these words: “We are full of thanks to God that he, as Lord of history, has given us Adolf Hitler, our leader and savior from our difficult lot. We acknowledge that we, with body and soul, are bound and dedicated to the German state and to its Führer.”
Astounding, isn’t it? In retrospect we can only shudder at the demonic twists of history that could produce such unqualified devotion to a man who would later rip God’s world apart, and destroy, insofar as he was able, both the church and children of God.
That same year, 1934, Hitler summoned a group of church leaders to his office. Martin Niemoller was among them. He had been a great hero in the German navy during World War I, commanding a submarine that caused great destruction to the Allied fleet. Now he was a pastor, much loved in his new vocation.
The meeting with Hitler began cordially enough. Suddenly, however, Hermann Goering burst into the room with a charge of treason against Niemoller. Hitler raged in angry tirade. Finally he regained his composure and told Niemoller, “You confine yourself to the church. I’ll take care of the German people!”
But Niemoller knew scripture, and he marched to its challenging beat. He stood quietly and replied, “Herr Reichskanzler, you said just now: ‘I will take care of the German people.’ But we too, as Christians and churchmen, have a responsibility towards the German people. That responsibility was entrusted to us by God, and neither you nor anyone in this world has the power to take it from us.”
Hitler knew a showdown when he saw it. Niemoller went to trial, and was convicted of misusing his pulpit for political purposes. Hitler refused to pardon him, declaring, “It is Niemoller or I.”
Not all political confrontations are that dramatic. No president or prime minister would ask North Americans to make a choice between themselves and God. But the gray area of compromise, whether social, economic, emotional, physical, or political, always takes place with the slow staccato of drumbeats in the background. And, as our lectionary readings today remind us, conflicting rhythms tear at our souls until we find a way to isolate the heartbeat of the God we will follow.
Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20
One of the dominant civilizations of the second millennium was the Hittite kingdom. Somewhat secluded in the mountainous plateaus of Anatolia (eastern Turkey today), the Hittites shaped a vast web of international relations which, at the height of their power in the 14th century BC, encompassed most of the ancient Near East. While they were companions of other similar civilizations that shared commonalities of culture and conquests and cities, the Hittites linger in archaeological and historical studies for, among other things, their standardization of a written code used extensively in the normalization of international relations. In order to establish appropriate structures that would spell out the Hittites’ ongoing interactions with subjected peoples, a prescribed treaty form appears to have been widely used. The parameters of the typical Hittite suzerain-vassal covenant included:
* A Preamble which declared the identity and power of the ruler responsible for establishing this relationship.
* A Historical Prologue outlining the events leading up to this relationship, so that it could be set into a particular context and shaped by a cultural or religious frame.
* Stipulations which specified the responsibilities and actions associated with the relationship.
* Curses and Blessings that evoked the negative and positive outcomes if this covenant were either breached or embraced by the parties.
* Witnesses who were called to affirm the legitimacy of this covenant-making event, and who would then hold the parties accountable.
* Document Clauses which described ratification ceremonies, specified future public recitations of the treaty, and noted the manner in which the copies of the covenant were to be kept.
What makes this bit of ancient historical trivia so intriguing for biblical scholars is the uncanny correspondence between the elements of this Hittite covenant code and the literature at the heart of Israel’s encounter with God at Sinai. Note the following:
* When God is first heard to speak from the rumbling mountain, the words are essentially the Preamble of a suzerain-vassal covenant: “I am the Lord your God” (Exodus 20:1).
* Immediately following is a brief Historical Prologue reminding the people of the events that precipitated this encounter: “…who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage” (Exodus 20:2).
* Then comes a recitation of Stipulations that will shape the ethics, morality, and lifestyle of the community (Exodus 20:3--23:19).
* Following these are the Curses and Blessings (Exodus 23:20-33) of a typical covenant document. What is unusual in this case is that the order is reversed so that the blessings precede the curses. This provides the same rigors of participatory onus, but gives it a freshness of grace and optimism that are often absent from the quick condemnation of the usual ordering.
* The Witnesses are the Elders of the Israelite community (Exodus 24:1-2), bringing authentication of this process and these documents into the human realm, when it was often spiritualized in other covenants by listing local gods as moderators of these events.
* Finally there is the Document Clause (Exodus 24:3-18) that spells out the ratification ceremony. It will be followed by a further reflection on the repositories of the covenant document copies once the Tabernacle has been built.
The striking resonance between the usual form of the Hittite suzerain-vassal covenant and the essential first speech of Yahweh to Israel at Mount Sinai makes it difficult not to assess the beginnings of conscious Israelite religion in terms other than that of a suzerain (Yahweh) vassal (Israel) covenant-making ceremony. Furthermore, this appears to elucidate the mode and function of the first biblical documents. They were not intended to be origin myths, ancestor hero stories, mere legal or ethical or civil codes, sermons, prophecies, or apocalyptic visions (though all of these would later accrete to the initial writings of the first community encounter with Yahweh); they were initially the written covenant documents formulating the relationship between a nation and the (divine) ruler who earned, in battle, the right to order her world.
This is why the word “covenant” becomes an essential term for all the rest of the literature that will be garnered into the collection eventually known as the Bible. The Bible begins with a covenant-making ceremony that produces certain documents, and then continues to grow as further explications of that covenant relationship are generated. One can read theology or ethics or politics or history out of the Bible, but one cannot do so while ignoring the essential role of the Sinai covenant between Yahweh and Israel. Even the idea of “kingdom,” so prevalent and pervasive in the Bible, is predicated on the covenant, for it is by way of the covenant that Israel becomes the dominion of the great King. The kingdom of God is the context for all that is portrayed in the Bible, but the covenant is the administrative document through which the kingdom takes hold and adheres in the human societies which form the front ranks of Yahweh’s citizenry.
Philippians 3:4b-14
In spite of its brevity, Paul’s letter to the Philippians contains a number of notes about Paul’s changing situation and the people who are in and out of his social circle. Paul is “in chains” (Philippians 1:13), and around him are a number of preachers who testify about Jesus (Philippians 1:14-18), some for more noble reasons than others. Paul may have been depressed about his circumstances (Philippians 1:22-24), and maybe even thought at one time that he was about to die (Philippians 2:16-17), but he believes there is still a future ministry ahead of him in this life (Philippians 1:25-26). Recently the Philippians had sent their pastor or key leader, Epaphroditus (Philippians 2:25-30), to bring a gift of food and clothes to Paul (Philippians 4:18), along with their warm wishes. Now Paul is sending this letter of thanks, and will soon commission his trusted associate Timothy to bring Epaphroditus home to Philippi (Philippians 2:19-30).
Pulling together these bits of information, a reasonable chronology surrounding the writing of Paul’s letter to the Philippians might look like this: sometime in the spring of 57 AD Paul arrived in Rome. While he was clearly a prisoner awaiting adjudication before Caesar himself, Paul was also a Roman citizen with rights and freedoms. And since the charges against him were sectarian (related to Jewish religious practices) rather than capital crimes, Paul was able to establish his own living circumstances within the larger palace precincts, while remaining under a type of house arrest.
Probably late in 57 AD or early in 58, Epaphroditus, who had been serving as pastor or congregational leader in Philippi, brought Paul a rather significant gift from that church (Philippians 2:25; 4:10). It may have included both money and supplies; in any case, it greatly enhanced Paul’s comfort in his limited circumstances. Epaphroditus stayed on with Paul for some time, assisting him as a servant. Unfortunately, Epaphroditus became ill and nearly died (Philippians 2:25-30), and only very recently had returned to full health. Paul believed that homesickness for Philippi and the congregation there might have contributed to Epaphroditus’ grave malady, and vowed to send him back home as soon as he was able to travel. Of course, a letter of appreciation and encouragement was a necessary part of all these things, so Paul penned Philippians, probably sometime in early 58 AD.
Paul’s letter to the Philippians is the most joyful and uplifting note of the entire New Testament. Even in Paul’s confinement, he is filled with delight in his relationships, and amazed at what God is doing (Philippians 1). Almost without needing to do so, Paul reminds the congregation of the great example of Jesus, who gave up everything in order to express the love of God to us (Philippians 2:1-18). Another example of this selfless care is found in both Timothy and Epaphroditus, each of whom had sacrificed much in order to serve others, especially the faith community in Philippi (Philippians 2:19-30). More encouragement to serve follows, with Paul reflecting on his own changes of behavior and value systems once he was gripped by the love of God in Jesus (Philippians 3). A few personal instructions and notes of appreciation round out the letter (Philippians 4).
The story of the expansion of Christianity is intimately connected, at its beginnings, to the person of Paul. While the specific details of his conversion are told in Acts 9, a larger portrait of Paul emerges in snippets from his letters. Today’s New Testament reading, a paragraph in Philippians 3, tells us that Paul’s parents were strict observant Jews (“circumcised on the eighth day”), openly religious (“of the people of Israel”), conscious of their family history and lineage (“of the tribe of Benjamin”), and careful to maintain ethnic purity (“a Hebrew of Hebrews”). Added to these bits of information come notes found in Paul’s personal testimony in Acts 22-23. He was raised in a Diaspora Jewish community in Tarsus (22:3), a Roman citizen from birth (22:8), and aligned through parental influence with the Pharisees in the sociopolitical mix of first-century Jewish culture (22--23:6).
In his religious education, Paul’s instruction was at the top of the Jewish mountain, literally and figuratively. Although born in Tarsus (at the northeastern corner of the Mediterranean Sea, near Antioch), his family must have had high hopes for him in religious leadership, for he told a Jerusalem audience that he was “brought up in this city” and that “under Gamaliel I was trained in the law” (Acts 22:3). It appears likely that Paul showed early promise in synagogue studies in Tarsus, and that his rabbi or the community thought he was a prime candidate to learn from the leading Jewish teacher of the day, Rabban Gamaliel in Jerusalem. Paul’s older sister, probably married at the time, was either living in Jerusalem, or was sent to live there and create a home for the young lad while he studied with Gamaliel. When Paul was later arrested in Jerusalem in 54 AD (Acts 21) and imprisoned there, we learn that his nephew (“the son of Paul’s sister,” Acts 23:16) was coming and going from the jail, taking care of his uncle’s needs and serving as the link with the rest of Paul’s family.
Gamaliel was a leading figure in the Jewish ruling Sanhedrin, and the brightest light among the Pharisees of his day. Not surprisingly, under the influences of both Paul’s father and Paul’s great teacher, Paul himself forthrightly adopted the Pharisaic religious perspective and lifestyle as well (Acts 23:6). Paul excelled in his studies, for he said that it was out of his religious zeal that he began to persecute the church (Philippians 3:6). Even more, in his words, “as for legalistic righteousness” Paul judged himself “faultless” (Philippians 3:6) in his day-to-day behaviors. Paul lived and breathed his religious identity with a passion that was true and straight and unyielding.
But then Jesus confronted him (Acts 9), and suddenly Paul needed to rethink the whole of his theology and practices (Galatians 1:13-17). The outcome was a synthesis between zealous conservative Judaism and energetic Christian missionary engagement, as Paul testifies in today’s lectionary reading.
Matthew 21:33-46
Upon Jesus’ arrival at the capital city of ancient Israel and modern Judea, he is welcomed as king. The crowds immediately and publicly connect Jesus to David’s royal family (21:9), and give him a royal salute. Furthermore, when Jesus enters the city he moves directly to the Temple. This, of course, was “God’s House,” the dwelling of Yahweh on earth. It was the permanent replication of what the Tabernacle had been throughout Israel’s wilderness wanderings. Just as when that portable structure had been dedicated by Moses, and the glory of God swooshed in as Yahweh took up residence (Exodus 40), so the same had happened while Solomon dedicated the first Temple (1 Kings 8). But a vision later recorded by the prophet Ezekiel announced the awful portent that the glory of God was leaving the Temple, and that God had gone back to heaven, moving out of Israel’s neighborhood (Ezekiel 9-10).
It was Yahweh leaving “God’s House” that precipitated the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple, and initiated the years of Jewish exile and captivity. When Cyrus of the Persians issued an edict sending the exiles back to Jerusalem, they rebuilt the Temple on a small scale with their modest resources. But the glory of God never returned to the rebuilt Temple. During the times of the prophet Malachi, around 400 BC, the people were still pleading with God to return and take up residence with them again (Malachi 3-4).
It is this history that Matthew draws upon as he marks the steps of Jesus entering Jerusalem. Jesus goes directly to the Temple, the house of God, and by implication his own house as God. He cleans the place, a task which only the owner of the house can authorize (Matthew 21:12–13). There Jesus receives his kingdom citizens who need royal favors -- the blind and the lame (Matthew 21:14). While Jesus is holding royal court, he is also presented with an impromptu concert from the most trusting stakeholders in his realm: the children (Matthew 21:15). When the “chief priests” (i.e., those who have been left in charge of God’s house), chide Jesus for inappropriately seeming to take over, Jesus quotes Psalm 8 as if it were his own to verify the correctness of these happenings (Matthew 21:16). Jesus is king. Jesus is the eternal ruler who has a right to sit on the throne of David, fulfilling the covenant Yahweh made with him. Jesus is the obvious resident of Israel’s royal palace.
But, just as Mark ominously noted in his narrative, these tenants have no use for Jesus, and do not want him to disturb their hold on power and territory. A few verses later Jesus’ authority is directly questioned (Matthew 21:23-27) within the very Temple courts themselves. In response, Jesus tells two parables (Matthew 21:28-46), each of which declares the horrible things that are about to happen because the tenants reject the royal claims of the Creator’s family. Jesus is king, but this rule will not be won easily. It will be gotten only through the horrible death that Jesus is about to endure.
Application
When Frederick the Great inspected a Berlin prison in the late 1700s, all of the prisoners crowded the Prussian king, begging for clemency with ringing declarations of innocence. Only one fellow remained silent and aloof.
Frederick called to him: “You there! Why are you here?”
“Armed robbery, your majesty!” came the reply.
“And are you guilty?” asked Frederick.
“Yes, indeed, your majesty. I entirely deserve my punishment.”
Frederick summoned the prison warden. “Release this guilty wretch at once!” he ordered. “I will not have him kept in this prison where he will corrupt all the fine innocent people who occupy it!”
Too often that could be a picture of our world. Crowded by the blatant godlessness of a self-righteous world, the few who know their guilt are almost afraid to cower in the folds of God’s just, though merciful, robes. And while the world carries on with a drunken orgy of war, crime, and immorality, the lonely who buck the evil system seem swallowed up in its aftershocks. Even God appears powerless for the moment to change things. Says the German poet, “If I were God, this world of sin and suffering would break my heart.”
But our texts for today see a different end of the matter. The essence of biblical religion is comfort -- comfort that takes the sting out of pain and death, comfort that encourages in the darkness, comfort that reinvigorates for a new lifestyle. That comfort is forward-looking. History is not an endless cycle of downs and ups and more downs. Rather, it’s a movement toward a climax. It’s a promise and a hope of God’s next earth-shaking appearance.
And when that day comes, the Name that is snubbed now in practical atheism by a self-serving world will be shouted in worship of the King of kings, and the Lord of lords!
Alternative Application
Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20.Where does the Bible begin? Where does any story begin? At the beginning, of course!
For the Bible it would seem most obvious that this beginning is the opening chapters of Genesis. After all, Genesis is at the front of the book that we all have become familiar with. Moreover, Genesis deals with origins, as its very name implies. In fact, Genesis ferrets out the original Big Bang beginning, when from nothing (or out of primeval chaos) God blasted the universe into existence. After that, Genesis goes on to describe beginnings of all other sorts -- the origins of fauna and flora, the elemental steps of the human race, the critically disruptive entrance of evil, the formation of communities, nation-states, cultures, and races, and even the birth of the tribal grouping called Israel which will dominate the rest of the Bible’s pages.
But as logicians caution, simply because pages currently are found in a certain order, this does not mean that the first ones we encounter necessarily came into being prior to those that follow. There are many theories about the origins of the Pentateuch which suggest that what we see today may be an end product which actually differs significantly from the composition and chronology of its parts. It is critical to look deeper into the Bible’s own understanding of its origins. Did someone sit down one day and decide to write about the creation? Was the Bible initiated by an obscure scribe with too much time on his hands who was exploring the family tree, and then hit upon the idea of writing a best-seller about Abraham and kin, only to be bested over the centuries by others who turned the tale into an endless serialization with subplots that finally destroyed the original narrative? Or were there ethicists in collegial dialogue who despaired of the condition of their societies and together formulated a new code of behavior, surrounding it with a mythical world to give it staying power?
While speculations might swirl, the Bible’s own pages are quite clear about its presumed beginnings. If by “Bible” we mean a book of writings that purport to have revelatory or religiously shaping significance (i.e., “scripture”), then we must ask where such writings first happened and under what conditions within the Bible’s own literary self-understanding. With this in mind it becomes apparent that we need to start by looking at the events reported to have taken place at Mount Sinai, in the middle of the book of Exodus.
Why? Because none of the stories reported in the Bible about events occurring prior to the Sinai event make mention of or imply the presence of a written source of revelation or inspiration. For instance, important as he was to biblical history, Adam had no “Bible.” Nor did Noah, during all those years that he tried to hear a voice speaking of impending world destruction. Even Abraham, whose story is so central to the biblical record in both Testaments, was not guided by a collection of sacred writings to which he could turn for devotional reflection each morning.
In clear and unambiguous testimony, the Bible’s own internal evidence expresses that the writing down of important ideas or history as a sourcebook of revelatory insight was begun when the Israelites encountered God in a unique way at Mount Sinai. It was there, according to the pages of Exodus, that God and Moses collaborated to create written documents which would travel with the community that eventually became the settled nation of Israel. So it is imperative to understand more clearly what was taking place at Mount Sinai.
Their promising statement included these words: “We are full of thanks to God that he, as Lord of history, has given us Adolf Hitler, our leader and savior from our difficult lot. We acknowledge that we, with body and soul, are bound and dedicated to the German state and to its Führer.”
Astounding, isn’t it? In retrospect we can only shudder at the demonic twists of history that could produce such unqualified devotion to a man who would later rip God’s world apart, and destroy, insofar as he was able, both the church and children of God.
That same year, 1934, Hitler summoned a group of church leaders to his office. Martin Niemoller was among them. He had been a great hero in the German navy during World War I, commanding a submarine that caused great destruction to the Allied fleet. Now he was a pastor, much loved in his new vocation.
The meeting with Hitler began cordially enough. Suddenly, however, Hermann Goering burst into the room with a charge of treason against Niemoller. Hitler raged in angry tirade. Finally he regained his composure and told Niemoller, “You confine yourself to the church. I’ll take care of the German people!”
But Niemoller knew scripture, and he marched to its challenging beat. He stood quietly and replied, “Herr Reichskanzler, you said just now: ‘I will take care of the German people.’ But we too, as Christians and churchmen, have a responsibility towards the German people. That responsibility was entrusted to us by God, and neither you nor anyone in this world has the power to take it from us.”
Hitler knew a showdown when he saw it. Niemoller went to trial, and was convicted of misusing his pulpit for political purposes. Hitler refused to pardon him, declaring, “It is Niemoller or I.”
Not all political confrontations are that dramatic. No president or prime minister would ask North Americans to make a choice between themselves and God. But the gray area of compromise, whether social, economic, emotional, physical, or political, always takes place with the slow staccato of drumbeats in the background. And, as our lectionary readings today remind us, conflicting rhythms tear at our souls until we find a way to isolate the heartbeat of the God we will follow.
Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20
One of the dominant civilizations of the second millennium was the Hittite kingdom. Somewhat secluded in the mountainous plateaus of Anatolia (eastern Turkey today), the Hittites shaped a vast web of international relations which, at the height of their power in the 14th century BC, encompassed most of the ancient Near East. While they were companions of other similar civilizations that shared commonalities of culture and conquests and cities, the Hittites linger in archaeological and historical studies for, among other things, their standardization of a written code used extensively in the normalization of international relations. In order to establish appropriate structures that would spell out the Hittites’ ongoing interactions with subjected peoples, a prescribed treaty form appears to have been widely used. The parameters of the typical Hittite suzerain-vassal covenant included:
* A Preamble which declared the identity and power of the ruler responsible for establishing this relationship.
* A Historical Prologue outlining the events leading up to this relationship, so that it could be set into a particular context and shaped by a cultural or religious frame.
* Stipulations which specified the responsibilities and actions associated with the relationship.
* Curses and Blessings that evoked the negative and positive outcomes if this covenant were either breached or embraced by the parties.
* Witnesses who were called to affirm the legitimacy of this covenant-making event, and who would then hold the parties accountable.
* Document Clauses which described ratification ceremonies, specified future public recitations of the treaty, and noted the manner in which the copies of the covenant were to be kept.
What makes this bit of ancient historical trivia so intriguing for biblical scholars is the uncanny correspondence between the elements of this Hittite covenant code and the literature at the heart of Israel’s encounter with God at Sinai. Note the following:
* When God is first heard to speak from the rumbling mountain, the words are essentially the Preamble of a suzerain-vassal covenant: “I am the Lord your God” (Exodus 20:1).
* Immediately following is a brief Historical Prologue reminding the people of the events that precipitated this encounter: “…who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage” (Exodus 20:2).
* Then comes a recitation of Stipulations that will shape the ethics, morality, and lifestyle of the community (Exodus 20:3--23:19).
* Following these are the Curses and Blessings (Exodus 23:20-33) of a typical covenant document. What is unusual in this case is that the order is reversed so that the blessings precede the curses. This provides the same rigors of participatory onus, but gives it a freshness of grace and optimism that are often absent from the quick condemnation of the usual ordering.
* The Witnesses are the Elders of the Israelite community (Exodus 24:1-2), bringing authentication of this process and these documents into the human realm, when it was often spiritualized in other covenants by listing local gods as moderators of these events.
* Finally there is the Document Clause (Exodus 24:3-18) that spells out the ratification ceremony. It will be followed by a further reflection on the repositories of the covenant document copies once the Tabernacle has been built.
The striking resonance between the usual form of the Hittite suzerain-vassal covenant and the essential first speech of Yahweh to Israel at Mount Sinai makes it difficult not to assess the beginnings of conscious Israelite religion in terms other than that of a suzerain (Yahweh) vassal (Israel) covenant-making ceremony. Furthermore, this appears to elucidate the mode and function of the first biblical documents. They were not intended to be origin myths, ancestor hero stories, mere legal or ethical or civil codes, sermons, prophecies, or apocalyptic visions (though all of these would later accrete to the initial writings of the first community encounter with Yahweh); they were initially the written covenant documents formulating the relationship between a nation and the (divine) ruler who earned, in battle, the right to order her world.
This is why the word “covenant” becomes an essential term for all the rest of the literature that will be garnered into the collection eventually known as the Bible. The Bible begins with a covenant-making ceremony that produces certain documents, and then continues to grow as further explications of that covenant relationship are generated. One can read theology or ethics or politics or history out of the Bible, but one cannot do so while ignoring the essential role of the Sinai covenant between Yahweh and Israel. Even the idea of “kingdom,” so prevalent and pervasive in the Bible, is predicated on the covenant, for it is by way of the covenant that Israel becomes the dominion of the great King. The kingdom of God is the context for all that is portrayed in the Bible, but the covenant is the administrative document through which the kingdom takes hold and adheres in the human societies which form the front ranks of Yahweh’s citizenry.
Philippians 3:4b-14
In spite of its brevity, Paul’s letter to the Philippians contains a number of notes about Paul’s changing situation and the people who are in and out of his social circle. Paul is “in chains” (Philippians 1:13), and around him are a number of preachers who testify about Jesus (Philippians 1:14-18), some for more noble reasons than others. Paul may have been depressed about his circumstances (Philippians 1:22-24), and maybe even thought at one time that he was about to die (Philippians 2:16-17), but he believes there is still a future ministry ahead of him in this life (Philippians 1:25-26). Recently the Philippians had sent their pastor or key leader, Epaphroditus (Philippians 2:25-30), to bring a gift of food and clothes to Paul (Philippians 4:18), along with their warm wishes. Now Paul is sending this letter of thanks, and will soon commission his trusted associate Timothy to bring Epaphroditus home to Philippi (Philippians 2:19-30).
Pulling together these bits of information, a reasonable chronology surrounding the writing of Paul’s letter to the Philippians might look like this: sometime in the spring of 57 AD Paul arrived in Rome. While he was clearly a prisoner awaiting adjudication before Caesar himself, Paul was also a Roman citizen with rights and freedoms. And since the charges against him were sectarian (related to Jewish religious practices) rather than capital crimes, Paul was able to establish his own living circumstances within the larger palace precincts, while remaining under a type of house arrest.
Probably late in 57 AD or early in 58, Epaphroditus, who had been serving as pastor or congregational leader in Philippi, brought Paul a rather significant gift from that church (Philippians 2:25; 4:10). It may have included both money and supplies; in any case, it greatly enhanced Paul’s comfort in his limited circumstances. Epaphroditus stayed on with Paul for some time, assisting him as a servant. Unfortunately, Epaphroditus became ill and nearly died (Philippians 2:25-30), and only very recently had returned to full health. Paul believed that homesickness for Philippi and the congregation there might have contributed to Epaphroditus’ grave malady, and vowed to send him back home as soon as he was able to travel. Of course, a letter of appreciation and encouragement was a necessary part of all these things, so Paul penned Philippians, probably sometime in early 58 AD.
Paul’s letter to the Philippians is the most joyful and uplifting note of the entire New Testament. Even in Paul’s confinement, he is filled with delight in his relationships, and amazed at what God is doing (Philippians 1). Almost without needing to do so, Paul reminds the congregation of the great example of Jesus, who gave up everything in order to express the love of God to us (Philippians 2:1-18). Another example of this selfless care is found in both Timothy and Epaphroditus, each of whom had sacrificed much in order to serve others, especially the faith community in Philippi (Philippians 2:19-30). More encouragement to serve follows, with Paul reflecting on his own changes of behavior and value systems once he was gripped by the love of God in Jesus (Philippians 3). A few personal instructions and notes of appreciation round out the letter (Philippians 4).
The story of the expansion of Christianity is intimately connected, at its beginnings, to the person of Paul. While the specific details of his conversion are told in Acts 9, a larger portrait of Paul emerges in snippets from his letters. Today’s New Testament reading, a paragraph in Philippians 3, tells us that Paul’s parents were strict observant Jews (“circumcised on the eighth day”), openly religious (“of the people of Israel”), conscious of their family history and lineage (“of the tribe of Benjamin”), and careful to maintain ethnic purity (“a Hebrew of Hebrews”). Added to these bits of information come notes found in Paul’s personal testimony in Acts 22-23. He was raised in a Diaspora Jewish community in Tarsus (22:3), a Roman citizen from birth (22:8), and aligned through parental influence with the Pharisees in the sociopolitical mix of first-century Jewish culture (22--23:6).
In his religious education, Paul’s instruction was at the top of the Jewish mountain, literally and figuratively. Although born in Tarsus (at the northeastern corner of the Mediterranean Sea, near Antioch), his family must have had high hopes for him in religious leadership, for he told a Jerusalem audience that he was “brought up in this city” and that “under Gamaliel I was trained in the law” (Acts 22:3). It appears likely that Paul showed early promise in synagogue studies in Tarsus, and that his rabbi or the community thought he was a prime candidate to learn from the leading Jewish teacher of the day, Rabban Gamaliel in Jerusalem. Paul’s older sister, probably married at the time, was either living in Jerusalem, or was sent to live there and create a home for the young lad while he studied with Gamaliel. When Paul was later arrested in Jerusalem in 54 AD (Acts 21) and imprisoned there, we learn that his nephew (“the son of Paul’s sister,” Acts 23:16) was coming and going from the jail, taking care of his uncle’s needs and serving as the link with the rest of Paul’s family.
Gamaliel was a leading figure in the Jewish ruling Sanhedrin, and the brightest light among the Pharisees of his day. Not surprisingly, under the influences of both Paul’s father and Paul’s great teacher, Paul himself forthrightly adopted the Pharisaic religious perspective and lifestyle as well (Acts 23:6). Paul excelled in his studies, for he said that it was out of his religious zeal that he began to persecute the church (Philippians 3:6). Even more, in his words, “as for legalistic righteousness” Paul judged himself “faultless” (Philippians 3:6) in his day-to-day behaviors. Paul lived and breathed his religious identity with a passion that was true and straight and unyielding.
But then Jesus confronted him (Acts 9), and suddenly Paul needed to rethink the whole of his theology and practices (Galatians 1:13-17). The outcome was a synthesis between zealous conservative Judaism and energetic Christian missionary engagement, as Paul testifies in today’s lectionary reading.
Matthew 21:33-46
Upon Jesus’ arrival at the capital city of ancient Israel and modern Judea, he is welcomed as king. The crowds immediately and publicly connect Jesus to David’s royal family (21:9), and give him a royal salute. Furthermore, when Jesus enters the city he moves directly to the Temple. This, of course, was “God’s House,” the dwelling of Yahweh on earth. It was the permanent replication of what the Tabernacle had been throughout Israel’s wilderness wanderings. Just as when that portable structure had been dedicated by Moses, and the glory of God swooshed in as Yahweh took up residence (Exodus 40), so the same had happened while Solomon dedicated the first Temple (1 Kings 8). But a vision later recorded by the prophet Ezekiel announced the awful portent that the glory of God was leaving the Temple, and that God had gone back to heaven, moving out of Israel’s neighborhood (Ezekiel 9-10).
It was Yahweh leaving “God’s House” that precipitated the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple, and initiated the years of Jewish exile and captivity. When Cyrus of the Persians issued an edict sending the exiles back to Jerusalem, they rebuilt the Temple on a small scale with their modest resources. But the glory of God never returned to the rebuilt Temple. During the times of the prophet Malachi, around 400 BC, the people were still pleading with God to return and take up residence with them again (Malachi 3-4).
It is this history that Matthew draws upon as he marks the steps of Jesus entering Jerusalem. Jesus goes directly to the Temple, the house of God, and by implication his own house as God. He cleans the place, a task which only the owner of the house can authorize (Matthew 21:12–13). There Jesus receives his kingdom citizens who need royal favors -- the blind and the lame (Matthew 21:14). While Jesus is holding royal court, he is also presented with an impromptu concert from the most trusting stakeholders in his realm: the children (Matthew 21:15). When the “chief priests” (i.e., those who have been left in charge of God’s house), chide Jesus for inappropriately seeming to take over, Jesus quotes Psalm 8 as if it were his own to verify the correctness of these happenings (Matthew 21:16). Jesus is king. Jesus is the eternal ruler who has a right to sit on the throne of David, fulfilling the covenant Yahweh made with him. Jesus is the obvious resident of Israel’s royal palace.
But, just as Mark ominously noted in his narrative, these tenants have no use for Jesus, and do not want him to disturb their hold on power and territory. A few verses later Jesus’ authority is directly questioned (Matthew 21:23-27) within the very Temple courts themselves. In response, Jesus tells two parables (Matthew 21:28-46), each of which declares the horrible things that are about to happen because the tenants reject the royal claims of the Creator’s family. Jesus is king, but this rule will not be won easily. It will be gotten only through the horrible death that Jesus is about to endure.
Application
When Frederick the Great inspected a Berlin prison in the late 1700s, all of the prisoners crowded the Prussian king, begging for clemency with ringing declarations of innocence. Only one fellow remained silent and aloof.
Frederick called to him: “You there! Why are you here?”
“Armed robbery, your majesty!” came the reply.
“And are you guilty?” asked Frederick.
“Yes, indeed, your majesty. I entirely deserve my punishment.”
Frederick summoned the prison warden. “Release this guilty wretch at once!” he ordered. “I will not have him kept in this prison where he will corrupt all the fine innocent people who occupy it!”
Too often that could be a picture of our world. Crowded by the blatant godlessness of a self-righteous world, the few who know their guilt are almost afraid to cower in the folds of God’s just, though merciful, robes. And while the world carries on with a drunken orgy of war, crime, and immorality, the lonely who buck the evil system seem swallowed up in its aftershocks. Even God appears powerless for the moment to change things. Says the German poet, “If I were God, this world of sin and suffering would break my heart.”
But our texts for today see a different end of the matter. The essence of biblical religion is comfort -- comfort that takes the sting out of pain and death, comfort that encourages in the darkness, comfort that reinvigorates for a new lifestyle. That comfort is forward-looking. History is not an endless cycle of downs and ups and more downs. Rather, it’s a movement toward a climax. It’s a promise and a hope of God’s next earth-shaking appearance.
And when that day comes, the Name that is snubbed now in practical atheism by a self-serving world will be shouted in worship of the King of kings, and the Lord of lords!
Alternative Application
Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20.Where does the Bible begin? Where does any story begin? At the beginning, of course!
For the Bible it would seem most obvious that this beginning is the opening chapters of Genesis. After all, Genesis is at the front of the book that we all have become familiar with. Moreover, Genesis deals with origins, as its very name implies. In fact, Genesis ferrets out the original Big Bang beginning, when from nothing (or out of primeval chaos) God blasted the universe into existence. After that, Genesis goes on to describe beginnings of all other sorts -- the origins of fauna and flora, the elemental steps of the human race, the critically disruptive entrance of evil, the formation of communities, nation-states, cultures, and races, and even the birth of the tribal grouping called Israel which will dominate the rest of the Bible’s pages.
But as logicians caution, simply because pages currently are found in a certain order, this does not mean that the first ones we encounter necessarily came into being prior to those that follow. There are many theories about the origins of the Pentateuch which suggest that what we see today may be an end product which actually differs significantly from the composition and chronology of its parts. It is critical to look deeper into the Bible’s own understanding of its origins. Did someone sit down one day and decide to write about the creation? Was the Bible initiated by an obscure scribe with too much time on his hands who was exploring the family tree, and then hit upon the idea of writing a best-seller about Abraham and kin, only to be bested over the centuries by others who turned the tale into an endless serialization with subplots that finally destroyed the original narrative? Or were there ethicists in collegial dialogue who despaired of the condition of their societies and together formulated a new code of behavior, surrounding it with a mythical world to give it staying power?
While speculations might swirl, the Bible’s own pages are quite clear about its presumed beginnings. If by “Bible” we mean a book of writings that purport to have revelatory or religiously shaping significance (i.e., “scripture”), then we must ask where such writings first happened and under what conditions within the Bible’s own literary self-understanding. With this in mind it becomes apparent that we need to start by looking at the events reported to have taken place at Mount Sinai, in the middle of the book of Exodus.
Why? Because none of the stories reported in the Bible about events occurring prior to the Sinai event make mention of or imply the presence of a written source of revelation or inspiration. For instance, important as he was to biblical history, Adam had no “Bible.” Nor did Noah, during all those years that he tried to hear a voice speaking of impending world destruction. Even Abraham, whose story is so central to the biblical record in both Testaments, was not guided by a collection of sacred writings to which he could turn for devotional reflection each morning.
In clear and unambiguous testimony, the Bible’s own internal evidence expresses that the writing down of important ideas or history as a sourcebook of revelatory insight was begun when the Israelites encountered God in a unique way at Mount Sinai. It was there, according to the pages of Exodus, that God and Moses collaborated to create written documents which would travel with the community that eventually became the settled nation of Israel. So it is imperative to understand more clearly what was taking place at Mount Sinai.
