Been thinking a bit about limits and limitations this week. The first 'limits' in the Biblical story are found right back in Genesis 1, when God separates light from dark, the earth from the heavens, the land from the sea. The anti-creation forces of darkness and chaos are driven back to within specific limits, in order to create space for life. And according to the unfolding story, God maintains these limits - consider specifically the boundaries of the sea in Jeremiah 5:22. The limits which make life possible were established by him in his Wisdom and are preserved by him so that life itself may be preserved. (Consider the story of Noah's flood as an example of what happens when God in his wrath declines to preserve these borders!)
The counterpart to the limits of Genesis 1 are found in the story of the Garden. There is, of course, the boundary to the Garden itself, but actually this is not the real limit in the story; there seems to be some expectation that the Man will increase the size of the Garden, cultivating the earth and making it all a place fit for human life. The real limit is found in the centre of the garden, where the two trees stand: And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.”
This is the first personal, ethical limitation that we find in Scripture. The limits of Genesis 1 were established by fiat; this limit is delivered by command and requires obedience. Here the Lord deals with his animate, rational creature, rather than the impersonal darkness and sea. But the purpose of the limitation is the same - life. God limits the darkness and the sea because he wills the life and flourishing of humanity. The world without form and void is not habitable. It is death. In the same way, 'life' outside the commandment of God is not life, but death. This continues to be underlined throughout Scripture. Wherever humanity is confronted by God's command, the options are life and good or death and evil. There is only life in his will. The limit is good.
To rail against our limitations seems to be the most human thing in the world - and perhaps it is. Human, all too human. But if God is for us - if he is on our side - then the limits he has imposed are good for us. He has given me these gifts and skills and not those. That limits me. He has given me this level of energy and not that. I am limited. I cannot, contrary to the mush which passes for a contemporary worldview, be whoever and whatever I want to be. I must accept these limits as the good provision of God. They provide the borders, the negatives, within which God wills to give positive shape to me. I can only exist as the person I am here.
And similarly, the commands of God which limit me, which tell me what I may and may not do - these are good. They set out the boundaries of human flourishing. It is not possible to transgress them with impunity - not in the end, and if it seems like you're getting away with it, it just isn't the end yet. Actually, just as I can only really be me within the physical/psychological/cultural/etc. limits that God has set for me, so I can only really be me within the limits of God's commandments. God's commandments, which seem so narrow from the outside, turn out from the inside to establish a broad space within which I can live.
The most challenging limitation of all is of course death, when God returns me to dust. I think about that a lot, and this week I marked another birthday, which makes me think about it more. But to accept this limitation too as in some way good - not perhaps good in the sense of the first design of creation, but good for me as a sinner, as one who is fallen, just as I believe it was mercy which set up the flashing sword at the gate of Eden - that is a challenge. But one to be embraced in Christ Jesus; as the limit which also carries the promise of a glorious resurrection, the boundary which makes life - real life - possible.
Showing posts with label Genesis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Genesis. Show all posts
Thursday, September 12, 2019
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Lost time, lost space
The first creation account (Genesis 1:1-2:3) is obviously structured around the seven-day week, and that gives it the theme of time. The goal of creation in this account is the seventh day, the day of rest. God rests from his completed task of creation; humanity, by implication, rests with him. The seventh day is sanctified: the Sabbath.
Until the redemption of creation, this is going to be our experience. But I have been thinking about what we might do, as Christian communities, to find time and space as a source of blessing again. Sabbath, of course, whatever that might look like for us. (Can I suggest that it needs to be communal if it's to be anything - which is naturally difficult in a world which never stops. We will need strong church cultures of rest here). And perhaps a commitment to be present, to be here. Did it ever occur to you that the biggest encouragement you can be to Christian brothers and sisters on a Sunday is just turning up to church? Being there matters.
One day our time will be caught up into God's time, and our space will be sanctified again by God's direct presence. Until then, we can enjoy God's good provision best by living as witnesses to the fact that in Christ this is already so.
The second creation account (Genesis 2:4-25) is geographically structured, and consequently we can reasonably say that the theme of the account is space. The goal of creation in this account is the garden-sanctuary of Eden, the place where humanity is to dwell in God's presence. The Lord walks in the garden which Adam keeps and guards.
Time and space - and concretely that means this particular day or hour and this particular location - are seen in these two accounts as gifts of grace. And by 'grace' here we mean grace in all its fullness: which is to say, time and place are given so that in them relationship with God can be given.
And yet for us time and space are experienced as frustrations and limitations. Time slips away too quickly, and we feel that something of ourselves slip away with it. "The past tempts us, the present confuses us, and the future frightens us. And our lives slip away, moment by moment, lost in that vast, terrible in-between." Or then again, time drags, and we wonder how it can be so vast and empty. Meanwhile, we find ourselves in one place wishing we were in another, staring at our screens as if they could transport us to the places they show. People we love are scattered around the world. We all have cars, which means we can go places, but instead of liberation that creates a new network of responsibilities: we really must visit so and so and get to such and such a place this year. We find ourselves bewildered and rootless. We want to belong to a place, but we don't want to be tied down.
In Deuteronomy, Moses describes the curses that will come upon the people of Israel if they are faithless and betray God's covenant. It is striking to me that those curses include these verses:
“And the Lord will scatter you among all peoples, from one end of the earth to the other, and there you shall serve other gods of wood and stone, which neither you nor your fathers have known. And among these nations you shall find no respite, and there shall be no resting-place for the sole of your foot, but the Lord will give you there a trembling heart and failing eyes and a languishing soul. Your life shall hang in doubt before you. Night and day you shall be in dread and have no assurance of your life. In the morning you shall say, ‘If only it were evening!’ and at evening you shall say, ‘If only it were morning!’ because of the dread that your heart shall feel, and the sights that your eyes shall see.Space as a curse - the land of other nations, with not so much as a place to put down your foot. Time as a curse - longing for night during the day, and for morning in the night. What Moses is describing here is just life, fallen life. Life outside Eden.
Until the redemption of creation, this is going to be our experience. But I have been thinking about what we might do, as Christian communities, to find time and space as a source of blessing again. Sabbath, of course, whatever that might look like for us. (Can I suggest that it needs to be communal if it's to be anything - which is naturally difficult in a world which never stops. We will need strong church cultures of rest here). And perhaps a commitment to be present, to be here. Did it ever occur to you that the biggest encouragement you can be to Christian brothers and sisters on a Sunday is just turning up to church? Being there matters.
One day our time will be caught up into God's time, and our space will be sanctified again by God's direct presence. Until then, we can enjoy God's good provision best by living as witnesses to the fact that in Christ this is already so.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
How to do liberal theology
I recently read Walter Brueggemann's book Sabbath as Resistance, which is really helpful in many ways and has challenged me to re-think my own position on Sabbath keeping. However, at heart this book is a work of liberal theology, and I've found it interesting to think through what that means and how it shows itself.
To start with, for those brought up in a conservative evangelical tradition, it may be surprising that liberal theology is very interested in the Bible. This book is all about engagement with Scripture. Liberal theology at its best - and much of it is really rather good - is a genuine attempt to be Christian, and that translates into a real desire to hear the voice of Scripture and take it seriously. If we imagine that liberal theology is not very seriously oriented toward the Bible, we will get it wrong. If you want to do liberal theology, Scripture is the best place to start.
Moreover, liberal theology can lead to real and valuable insight into the Biblical text. Sometimes those of us coming from a more conservative position can fail to really grapple with the text as it confronts us. Sometimes we think we already know what the Bible is about, and that prevents us from asking the important questions. Other times we look carefully to the text, but do not understand our contemporary world, so that we fail to arrive at an authentic interpretation and application of Scripture for today. Liberal theology, which often comes from a place less bound by traditional interpretation, less tied to systematic theology, and more grounded in contemporary thought, can often be helpful.
But there is a problem. Take an example from Brueggemann as illustrative. In a generally helpful chapter which describes Sabbath as resistance to anxiety, we come across this summary of the activity of Pharaoh:
"...Pharaoh, even though he was absolute in authority and he occupied the pinnacle of power, was an endlessly anxious presence..."
"..Pharaoh, who controlled the Nile, nevertheless had nightmares of anxiety, as he dreamed of famine and as he imagined that the creation would not provide sufficient food (Gen. 41:15-32)."
"...that nightmare of scarcity, which contradicted the wealth and power of read Pharaoh, led to rapacious state policies of monopoly that caused the crown to usurp the money, cattle, the land, and finally the bodies of vulnerable peasasnts..."
See what's happened there? If you're at all familiar with the book of Genesis, you will remember that Pharaoh is sent dreams from God warning him of famine to come. The divine origin of these warnings is stressed in the narrative - read through Genesis 41:25-36, and count the mentions of God. "God has revealed... God has shown... the thing is fixed by God and God will shortly bring it about". Of course, all this is said by Joseph, but the text gives every reason to see this as also the narrator's point of view. Pharaoh's anxiety in this instance is caused by God, and moreover is well justified!
What about the rapacious state policies? The reader will recall that it was Joseph, not Pharaoh, who reduced the people of Egypt to serfdom. But in the text, the stress is not on this but on the fact that the people were saved alive. The alternative to serfdom was starvation. Now, if any character in Genesis is portrayed by the narrator as a hero, it is Joseph. To read this episode as Brueggemann does is to go completely against the grain of the Scriptural text.
And fundamentally, that is how to do liberal theology. Use the Scriptural narrative and instruction as material, engage with it very seriously and creatively, but do not feel constrained to follow where Scripture points. Do not feel obliged to let Scripture set the agenda. In short, make the Bible your servant and not your master. Then you're well on your way.
To start with, for those brought up in a conservative evangelical tradition, it may be surprising that liberal theology is very interested in the Bible. This book is all about engagement with Scripture. Liberal theology at its best - and much of it is really rather good - is a genuine attempt to be Christian, and that translates into a real desire to hear the voice of Scripture and take it seriously. If we imagine that liberal theology is not very seriously oriented toward the Bible, we will get it wrong. If you want to do liberal theology, Scripture is the best place to start.
Moreover, liberal theology can lead to real and valuable insight into the Biblical text. Sometimes those of us coming from a more conservative position can fail to really grapple with the text as it confronts us. Sometimes we think we already know what the Bible is about, and that prevents us from asking the important questions. Other times we look carefully to the text, but do not understand our contemporary world, so that we fail to arrive at an authentic interpretation and application of Scripture for today. Liberal theology, which often comes from a place less bound by traditional interpretation, less tied to systematic theology, and more grounded in contemporary thought, can often be helpful.
But there is a problem. Take an example from Brueggemann as illustrative. In a generally helpful chapter which describes Sabbath as resistance to anxiety, we come across this summary of the activity of Pharaoh:
"...Pharaoh, even though he was absolute in authority and he occupied the pinnacle of power, was an endlessly anxious presence..."
"..Pharaoh, who controlled the Nile, nevertheless had nightmares of anxiety, as he dreamed of famine and as he imagined that the creation would not provide sufficient food (Gen. 41:15-32)."
"...that nightmare of scarcity, which contradicted the wealth and power of read Pharaoh, led to rapacious state policies of monopoly that caused the crown to usurp the money, cattle, the land, and finally the bodies of vulnerable peasasnts..."
See what's happened there? If you're at all familiar with the book of Genesis, you will remember that Pharaoh is sent dreams from God warning him of famine to come. The divine origin of these warnings is stressed in the narrative - read through Genesis 41:25-36, and count the mentions of God. "God has revealed... God has shown... the thing is fixed by God and God will shortly bring it about". Of course, all this is said by Joseph, but the text gives every reason to see this as also the narrator's point of view. Pharaoh's anxiety in this instance is caused by God, and moreover is well justified!
What about the rapacious state policies? The reader will recall that it was Joseph, not Pharaoh, who reduced the people of Egypt to serfdom. But in the text, the stress is not on this but on the fact that the people were saved alive. The alternative to serfdom was starvation. Now, if any character in Genesis is portrayed by the narrator as a hero, it is Joseph. To read this episode as Brueggemann does is to go completely against the grain of the Scriptural text.
And fundamentally, that is how to do liberal theology. Use the Scriptural narrative and instruction as material, engage with it very seriously and creatively, but do not feel constrained to follow where Scripture points. Do not feel obliged to let Scripture set the agenda. In short, make the Bible your servant and not your master. Then you're well on your way.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Great Commissions (2 of 2)
The second way to understand the two Commissions is the standard in Reformed circles, as far as I can tell. The view is that the first (Genesis) Commission still stands, and is still basically definitive for our understanding of God’s intentions for humankind, even fallen humankind. Human beings are still commanded to fill the earth and subdue it, with every advance in culture, science, and technology which this implies. Christians are to be particularly involved with and interested in these things, since they receive them not only as the apparently obvious ingredients of a satisfying human life but also as the command of God. This is not at all to deny that the fall has marred every aspect of what human beings do in response to this Commission. It is, however, to say that the command still stands nonetheless, and that it ought to be obeyed, despite the fact that it can never be obeyed perfectly. Something of value will be kept in all human striving that corresponds to this Commission. The concept of common grace generally comes into play here.
The second Commission is understood against this background. Given the broken nature of creation following the fall, the first Commission cannot be fulfilled, in the sense of fully and perfectly executed, but human beings alone. God must step in to make it possible again, and he does so in Christ. Christ’s work is about the redemption of all creation, and its restoration to its original potential. Therefore, Christians are bound not only to engage in first Commission work, but also to join in the second Commission task of preaching Christ, through whom alone the first Commission can be fulfilled (eschatologically, for the most part). As an aside, a good introduction to this view is the little book Creation Regained by Albert Wolters.
This view also has much to recommend it. Not least, Christians who hold it are likely to live more interesting lives than those who hold the first view, and this may well have the effect of making their evangelism more effective; their engagement with the ordinary work of humanity has the potential to commend the gospel. Independently of this, they are surely correct to see more in Genesis 1 and 2 than a wistful memory of a long-dead world. With this perspective, advocates of the second view are equipped to avoid the secular/sacred divide that more or less inevitably follows from the first view. Still, I’m not sure this view has it completely right. I worry that it has the potential to make the gospel of Christ merely a means to an end, and the lordship of Christ a secondary rather than a primary concern. This is a danger, not an actuality - I don’t think people actually go this far, or at least not explicitly. But I think it is a valid concern; the gospel is not an afterthought. Add to that, I’m not sure the framework of creation restored can contain the eschatology of the Bible - the end promised to us seems, to me, to be much more than the beginning.
The third view, which is mine and therefore saved to the last so that it seems more impressive, rests on the insight that chronology is not always the key. The second Commission, on this view, is really the first, and the first is the second. To clarify, we’ll call them G-Commission (for Genesis) and M-Commission (for Matthew). Rather than seeing G-Commission as basic, and M-Commission as a necessary addition in the face of sin, the third view sees M-Commission as basic. The spread of the kingdom of Christ, through the evangelization of the nations, is - and always has been - the central purpose of everything that exists, including human beings and everything that they can do or produce in conformity to the G-Commission. This is not to devalue the G-Commission; rather, it is to provide it with a secure place. Although advocates of the second view see value in both Commissions, I do not know how they can hold them together. It seems to me that either one or the other will necessarily be without foundation and arbitrary. It is all very well to say that the G-Commission is still in force, but I wonder what that can even really mean after the fall. And I wonder what relation it can really have to the M-Commission. By contrast, this third view holds the two together because it sees the fulfillment of the G-Commission occurring as, and only as, human creativity is brought under the lordship of Christ. This does not mean that cultural artifacts and the like which are created without reference to Christ lose all their value; it simply means that Jesus is Lord over them whether their creators like it or not, and so they can brought in some way - whether by appreciation or critique - within the orbit of the church as the community which knows and bows to his Lordship in the here and now. (This involves a rethinking of common grace; it is not a kind of basic grace which is independent of the gospel grace of Christ - rather it is the overflow of the gospel, or perhaps just the gospel as it applies to those who do not know it or acknowledge it).
I think this is a better way of understanding the relationship between the G-Commission and the M-Commission. It keeps the main thing - the Lordship of Christ and its recognition amongst the nations - as very definitely the main thing, and it securely grounds everything else by relating it to this great divine project. It fits better with the shape of the doctrine of creation, as I understand it. Most importantly, I think it lets us live as Christians - set free from every concern which is not Christ, whilst recognising that Christ means more than we might initially think.
(It occurs to me, at the conclusion, that this whole post is probably just a way of saying that I am a supralapsarian; if that doesn’t mean anything to you, lucky you).
The second Commission is understood against this background. Given the broken nature of creation following the fall, the first Commission cannot be fulfilled, in the sense of fully and perfectly executed, but human beings alone. God must step in to make it possible again, and he does so in Christ. Christ’s work is about the redemption of all creation, and its restoration to its original potential. Therefore, Christians are bound not only to engage in first Commission work, but also to join in the second Commission task of preaching Christ, through whom alone the first Commission can be fulfilled (eschatologically, for the most part). As an aside, a good introduction to this view is the little book Creation Regained by Albert Wolters.
This view also has much to recommend it. Not least, Christians who hold it are likely to live more interesting lives than those who hold the first view, and this may well have the effect of making their evangelism more effective; their engagement with the ordinary work of humanity has the potential to commend the gospel. Independently of this, they are surely correct to see more in Genesis 1 and 2 than a wistful memory of a long-dead world. With this perspective, advocates of the second view are equipped to avoid the secular/sacred divide that more or less inevitably follows from the first view. Still, I’m not sure this view has it completely right. I worry that it has the potential to make the gospel of Christ merely a means to an end, and the lordship of Christ a secondary rather than a primary concern. This is a danger, not an actuality - I don’t think people actually go this far, or at least not explicitly. But I think it is a valid concern; the gospel is not an afterthought. Add to that, I’m not sure the framework of creation restored can contain the eschatology of the Bible - the end promised to us seems, to me, to be much more than the beginning.
The third view, which is mine and therefore saved to the last so that it seems more impressive, rests on the insight that chronology is not always the key. The second Commission, on this view, is really the first, and the first is the second. To clarify, we’ll call them G-Commission (for Genesis) and M-Commission (for Matthew). Rather than seeing G-Commission as basic, and M-Commission as a necessary addition in the face of sin, the third view sees M-Commission as basic. The spread of the kingdom of Christ, through the evangelization of the nations, is - and always has been - the central purpose of everything that exists, including human beings and everything that they can do or produce in conformity to the G-Commission. This is not to devalue the G-Commission; rather, it is to provide it with a secure place. Although advocates of the second view see value in both Commissions, I do not know how they can hold them together. It seems to me that either one or the other will necessarily be without foundation and arbitrary. It is all very well to say that the G-Commission is still in force, but I wonder what that can even really mean after the fall. And I wonder what relation it can really have to the M-Commission. By contrast, this third view holds the two together because it sees the fulfillment of the G-Commission occurring as, and only as, human creativity is brought under the lordship of Christ. This does not mean that cultural artifacts and the like which are created without reference to Christ lose all their value; it simply means that Jesus is Lord over them whether their creators like it or not, and so they can brought in some way - whether by appreciation or critique - within the orbit of the church as the community which knows and bows to his Lordship in the here and now. (This involves a rethinking of common grace; it is not a kind of basic grace which is independent of the gospel grace of Christ - rather it is the overflow of the gospel, or perhaps just the gospel as it applies to those who do not know it or acknowledge it).
I think this is a better way of understanding the relationship between the G-Commission and the M-Commission. It keeps the main thing - the Lordship of Christ and its recognition amongst the nations - as very definitely the main thing, and it securely grounds everything else by relating it to this great divine project. It fits better with the shape of the doctrine of creation, as I understand it. Most importantly, I think it lets us live as Christians - set free from every concern which is not Christ, whilst recognising that Christ means more than we might initially think.
(It occurs to me, at the conclusion, that this whole post is probably just a way of saying that I am a supralapsarian; if that doesn’t mean anything to you, lucky you).
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Great Commissions (1 of 2)
Reading chronologically is not always the best help when it comes to Biblical interpretation. Thanks to a stimulating Awayday with Magdalen Road Church, where Julian Hardyman helped us to think through what it really means to live for Jesus every day, I've been mulling over the relationship between Matthew 28 and Genesis 1-2, and in particular what Julian called the Two Great Commissions. It seems to me that there are at least three ways of seeing the relationship between these two Commissions, and that the one we pick will have a huge effect on what we think it means to live as a Christian.
Firstly, the two Commissions - what are they? The first, chronologically speaking, is the instruction and permission found in the two creation accounts in Genesis. This could be called the creational mandate, or the cultural mandate. Humanity is to expand and advance, both numerically and in terms of control over creation. They are to steward the resources of creation, making responsible use of everything that God has given them. This will involve creativity, craftsmanship, thought. Humanity is commanded and permitted to thrive, and to enjoy the fruits of their gentle work within the world that God has made. The second Commission, and the one which is more commonly referred to by that name, is the sending out of the Apostles, and through them the Apostolic Church, to bear witness to Christ, making disciples who are baptised and taught to follow everything that Jesus has said. This Commission, unlike the other, is delivered to a limited group of people, although the intended beneficiaries are not limited. In a way, it too involves expansion and advancement in numbers and in ways of being community together for the world.
The first way of understanding the relationship between these two Commissions is to say that the latter nullifies the former. Genesis 1 and 2 stand as testimony to God's original intention for humanity, but after Genesis 3 there is nothing left of that intention. The fall raises an impenetrable barrier between that world and our world (a cherub with a flaming sword, perhaps?) which makes it useless for us to even think about the mandate of Genesis 1 and 2 except in the context of reflection on what we have lost, and therefore how much we need Christ. Those who hold this viewpoint tend to think that evangelism is the only worthwhile thing to be doing - everything else being simply the necessary prerequisites for evangelism. If you have ever heard someone use an argument like ‘what does it matter what great works of art we create when there are people going to hell all around us’, they probably hold this view of the relationship between Genesis 1-2 and Matthew 28. (The wonky eschatology follows on logically).
I think this viewpoint has a lot to recommend it (it used to be mine). It takes the fall seriously, it takes seriously the fact that we cannot even imagine a world in which work was always blessed and human effort was not constantly subject to futility. It also takes seriously the urgent need for the gospel to go out. However, I am convinced that this is not the biblical view. For starters, in both Old and New Testaments, numerous activities are endorsed and commanded which bear no relation to evangelism, the extension of the church, or the plucking of brands from the fire. Moreover, this view of the relation between Genesis 1-2 and Matthew 28 (or, indeed, the rest of the Bible) implies that God has abandoned his creation to destruction, choosing to save a few souls from the wreck. That just doesn’t fit with the declared intentions of God for his creation in Scripture. Genesis 1-2 still matters for more than just a reminder of what we have lost.
The other two perspectives to follow shortly...
Firstly, the two Commissions - what are they? The first, chronologically speaking, is the instruction and permission found in the two creation accounts in Genesis. This could be called the creational mandate, or the cultural mandate. Humanity is to expand and advance, both numerically and in terms of control over creation. They are to steward the resources of creation, making responsible use of everything that God has given them. This will involve creativity, craftsmanship, thought. Humanity is commanded and permitted to thrive, and to enjoy the fruits of their gentle work within the world that God has made. The second Commission, and the one which is more commonly referred to by that name, is the sending out of the Apostles, and through them the Apostolic Church, to bear witness to Christ, making disciples who are baptised and taught to follow everything that Jesus has said. This Commission, unlike the other, is delivered to a limited group of people, although the intended beneficiaries are not limited. In a way, it too involves expansion and advancement in numbers and in ways of being community together for the world.
The first way of understanding the relationship between these two Commissions is to say that the latter nullifies the former. Genesis 1 and 2 stand as testimony to God's original intention for humanity, but after Genesis 3 there is nothing left of that intention. The fall raises an impenetrable barrier between that world and our world (a cherub with a flaming sword, perhaps?) which makes it useless for us to even think about the mandate of Genesis 1 and 2 except in the context of reflection on what we have lost, and therefore how much we need Christ. Those who hold this viewpoint tend to think that evangelism is the only worthwhile thing to be doing - everything else being simply the necessary prerequisites for evangelism. If you have ever heard someone use an argument like ‘what does it matter what great works of art we create when there are people going to hell all around us’, they probably hold this view of the relationship between Genesis 1-2 and Matthew 28. (The wonky eschatology follows on logically).
I think this viewpoint has a lot to recommend it (it used to be mine). It takes the fall seriously, it takes seriously the fact that we cannot even imagine a world in which work was always blessed and human effort was not constantly subject to futility. It also takes seriously the urgent need for the gospel to go out. However, I am convinced that this is not the biblical view. For starters, in both Old and New Testaments, numerous activities are endorsed and commanded which bear no relation to evangelism, the extension of the church, or the plucking of brands from the fire. Moreover, this view of the relation between Genesis 1-2 and Matthew 28 (or, indeed, the rest of the Bible) implies that God has abandoned his creation to destruction, choosing to save a few souls from the wreck. That just doesn’t fit with the declared intentions of God for his creation in Scripture. Genesis 1-2 still matters for more than just a reminder of what we have lost.
The other two perspectives to follow shortly...
Friday, July 16, 2010
The Serpent's Academy
Have you ever noticed how Genesis 3 reports the founding of the two oldest faculties of the University?
The first is theology. The serpent asks the question: "did God actually say..?" And, I imagine without substantial reflection and without consideration of the consequences, Eve joins in a conversation about God - the first such conversation. It does not end well. There is an inherent risk in the pursuit of theology, and a monumental danger. Talking about God in the absence of God, which is the nature of the conversation in the garden and is the nature of most academic theology today, leads with tragic inevitability to the assertion of my own opinions about God and his nature (I have in mind here the subtle failure of Eve to accurately quote God), which are no match for the enemy's counter-opinions (the serpent's assertion that God is a liar). My opinions about God may be good, in so far as they go, but unless they are based squarely on God's word - and may I suggest, not God's word as a remembered entity now absent (for the danger of misquoting is too great), but God's word as a present experience - they leave my understanding of God vulnerable to heretical distortion.
The second is ethics. The serpent suggests that eating from the tree will make human beings "like God, knowing good and evil". As has often been remarked, this does not mean that Adam and Eve are imagined as having no knowledge of the meaning of these terms; if that were so, the temptation could hardly be appealing. Rather, the temptation is that they could become like God in being able to discern what is good and what is evil. And of course, being able to discern this very quickly becomes being able to decide what is good and what is evil. Here is the launch of ethics as the pursuit of autonomous human beings. Rather than accepting God's word on the subject - "he has told you, O man, what is good" - human beings seek to work ethics out (and later, to impose their preferences under the cloak of ethics) in God's absence.
What a dangerous place to be the university is!
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