All Things Came To Be Through Him

A friend asked me about the Greek verb egeneto (ἐγένετο) in the prologue of the Gospel of John (vv. 1-18).  It is a form of the verb ginomai (γίνομαι), and its presence--it occurs 9 times in the first 18 verses--is obvious and intentional.  Usually translated, "come to be," implying existence and creation, it is the same word used in Genesis 1 in the Septuagint (the Ancient Greek Old Testament) for: "And God said, 'Let there be light.'  And there was light."  More accurately: "And God said, 'Let light come to be,' and light came to be."  An experienced reader, Jew or Greek, wouldn't have missed John's point.

It's the verb of creation, and John's Gospel sings out the proclamation that YHWH's creation is Jesus' creation and YHWH is still in the business of making new things.

Furthermore, forms of that same verb, ginomai, are usually employed in prophetic books when the author says, "And the word of YHWH came to me."  Ezekiel 38:1 is an excellent example of this.  If it isn't stretching the notion too far, when the author tells us that the word of YWHW has arrived, it implies a creative arrival, a new word picture is about to be painted, a new vision cast.

Another intriguing parallel needs to be added here.  John's Gospel begins like this: "In the beginning was the word"  (en arche ein ho logos).  It's the same word that came to the prophets, and the same word that spoke creation into being.  The creative word of YHWH, that which breathed life into the cosmos and appeared with prophetic visions of hope -- that word (logos) was Jesus.

People often say that John was written primarily for the Greeks, because he was drawing on the Pre-Socratic and Platonic idea of the "underlying logos" of all things.  But it seems to me that he was singing polyphonically, in one octave to the Jews and another to the Greeks.  The Jews were not strangers to YHWH's logos ("word"), nor were they strangers to the idea of egeneto ("came to be")-- the coming into being of the cosmos in the case of Genesis and prophesy and vision through God's logos in the case of the prophets.

John is introducing the Creator of the world once again.  He's saying, "Look, Jesus created the stars and the earth and it was Jesus who separated the land from the seas!  And now he's here, setting up, creating again!"

One last thought.  The same verb is used in 2 Corinthians 5:21: "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God."  A new creation has already happened if you're a believer.  And since the Greek verb is in the present tense here, it implies a process of creation.  God isn't done with us.

Augustine on Religion and Philosophy.

Augustine of Hippo once said that Christians, "believe and teach that, as for salvation, there is not one thing called philosophy, that is, the search for wisdom, and another thing called religion" (de vera religione 5.8; Tr. William Harmless, S.J.).

I tend to agree.

I want you to tell me what's real.

I want to ask a question, and I do want to know what you think.  Please comment.

What is real?  And, if you're feeling extra ambitious, what is required to prove to you that something is real?

I realize that this is a rather ethereal question, but I think having an answer--or at least recognizing it as a question to be worked out--is pretty important.  Today's common unconscious answer seems to be anything which is or can be proven by science.  Since most of us are not scientists, this sort of answer -- Never mind.  I want to hear your thoughts in the comment thread.

A Brilliant Manual of Evil Operations; A Review of Andrew Farley's Operation Screwtape

In my last post I mentioned that I'll be writing reviews of N.T. Wright's series, "Christian Origins and the Question of God," culminating with a collection of reviews and thoughts on the forthcoming Volume IV, Paul and the Faithfulness of God.  I'll also be reviewing several other forthcoming books, beginning now with Andrew Farley's Operation Screwtape: The Art of Spiritual War, by Baker Publishing Group (from whom I received this review copy).

These reviews will be guided by the purposes of this blog--reviews "of an eternal student bent on encountering the real Jesus, finding true religion and discerning pure philosophy."

Andrew Farley is the author of The Naked Gospel: The Truth You May Never Hear in Church (Zondervan 2009) and God without Religion: Can It Really Be This Simple? (Baker 2011)

Operation Screwtape is a re-presentation of C.S. Lewis' much loved Screwtape Letters. The book opens with the voice of a narrator who tells us that he's come across a foreign electronic document, a manual of spiritual war.  The premise is that Christians can be subtly deceived through a multitude of misguided ideas, self-condemnation and pride, and Operation Screwtape is the fictitious--though not inaccurate--manual for the encouragement and provocation of these subtle deceptions.

As in Lewis' Screwtape Letters, the document is written by a sort of "director" or "general," but this one, unlike Lewis' "Screwtape," goes unnamed, and we're presented with one grand training document as opposed to several letters.  It is broken up into three chapters--Steal, Kill and Destroy--each with several sub-chapters emphasizing specific stratagems (e.g. Steal Confidence, Kill Life, Destroy Enthusiasm).

Farley does fantastic work in employing Lewis' concept as an outline and, more than fifty years after the original Letters, filling it up with the issues that face the church of this generation.  His wit in the presentation of these issues from the perspective of a dark power is, I dare say, on par with that of Lewis himself.  Here's an example from "Steal Influence":

Now, concerning evangelism, some of their own do the work for us as they fixate on obtaining a nearly instantaneous decision from unsuspecting victims of their assault.  The overt pressure applied by their "boldest" evangelists seems to yield few real converts, and many of their targets resist because they find the whole ordeal repulsive.  Some even find themselves angered by the brash, impersonal measures designed to manipulate them into response.  Of course, this translates into benefit for us as those same targets are only more difficult to reach upon their next attempt. [...] 

Additionally, if everything is going well, these pressure tactics are then portrayed to the masses as the only proper form of evangelism.  The majority of them will quietly loose heart as they naturally lack the brash personality needed to go confidently storming in.  At this point, we inflict significant wounds through accusation.  We simply exploit their feelings of fear and inferiority, such that they file themselves away as second-class citizens in the kingdom.  We present them with the nearly undeniable fact that they are either unwilling or unable to "count the cost" and "pay the price," as their own teachers like to put it.  Like clockwork, their self-evaluation is always followed by their self-condemnation.  This always brings a smile to our faces.

No matter what your theological/philosophical leanings, there are countless convicting passages in Operation Screwtape.  Readers will undoubtedly push back against some of Farley's perspectives with debate and disregard, but this short work, if read with honesty and humility, will have a tremendous impact on the way the reader thinks about his or her faith and his or her God.  Five Stars.

Disclosure: This post contains links to an affiliate program, for which I receive a few cents if you make purchases.

N.T. Wright and the "Christian Origins and the Question of God" Series. Reviews Forthcoming.

I just received review copies of Volumes I and II of Tom Wright's widely heralded historical-theological series, Christian Origins and the Question of God.  I'm midway through Volume III, The Resurrection of the Son of God, and am learning a great deal about the development of the world in which that momentous event (so Wright argues) was set.  Over the next several months expect to see reviews and musings on the first three volumes.  One potentially problematic aspect of this series is its density.  These books are just plain long and tough to get through  In my coming reviews I'll do my best to re-dress Wright's central concepts for those who aren't riveted with anticipation at the thought of bearing through 750 pages of stark textbook.

Volume IV, Paul and the Faithfulness of God, is to be released sometime this year and, if it's reception is anything like the first three, it will bring with it a delightful storm of new theological inquiries and debates.  Here's Wright on the contents of the forthcoming Volume IV (from the Center of Theological Inquiry):

Paul and the Faithfulness of God (Volume IV of Christian Origins and the Question of God) combines history and theology (exegesis being a branch of both), using the worldview-analysis outlined earlier. I shall examine (i) Paul’s characteristic praxis, stories and symbols, and his answers to the key worldview questions; (ii) his theology in terms of the revision, by means of Christ and the Spirit, of the central Jewish topics of monotheism, election and eschatology. At each point we see Paul in implicit dialogue and/or confrontation both with other Jewish readings of scripture and with hellenistic and Roman ideologies. His central aim was to found and maintain united and holy Christ-communities as a sign of new humanity to the wider world.  

Theologically, this demonstrates a deep inner coherence throughout Paul’s theology, reconciling otherwise puzzling topics (e.g. the classic stand-off between ‘justification’ and ‘being in Christ’), and reframing ‘ethics’ and ‘ecclesiology’ in a more central and positive role than usual. Historically, I shall reconstruct Paul’s worldview and mindset in terms of a complex but coherent relationship (part derivation, part confrontation, part creative engagement) with the multiple worlds of C1 Judaism, Hellenism and Roman imperialism.

I look forward to this project.  Stay tuned for thoughts and reviews.

Nietzsche, Jesus and a Critique of Christendom. Part I

I'm just finishing a class on Ethics and Morality in the Western World.  We've covered Immanuel Kant, Aristotle, J.S. Mill and Friedrich Nietzsche.  I'm going to write a four part series describing, analyzing and critiquing these four works in light of a Christian worldview.  I'll begin with Nietzsche.

Friedrich Nietzsche was a 19th century German philosopher who is known especially for his ideas of the "Overman" (Übermensch), "the death of God," and the "will to power."  His ideas have been all but ignored within theological circles, not least because of his scathing attacks on Christianity and Jesus.  Although most of his theological ideas were developed out of misreadings of the Bible, much of what he hated about Christianity came not from the texts but from the beliefs and actions of the common 19th century German Christian.  In the following paragraphs I'm going to look at two of Nietzsche's ideas: 1) His proclamation of the "death of God" and 2) his criticisms of Christian guilt and the apathy resulting from a misguided belief in the afterlife.

His "death of God" critique is usually seen as some sort of atheistic manifesto, but it is, in actuality, a mere description of what Nietzsche saw in the Christians of his day.  Many who were professing faith in the Christian God were living as if he didn't exist.  And since, for Nietzsche, God didn't exist outside of the deeds of human beings, when their deeds no longer bore witness to him, they had, in a sense, caused his death.  "God is dead.  God remains dead.  And we have killed him" (The Gay Science; Tr. Walter Kaufmann; italics added for emphasis).  Nietzsche wasn't simply making an atheistic proclamation; he was critiquing German Christendom.

Nietzsche thought that religion, especially the Christianity of 19th century Germany, was absolutely irreparably vile.  First, he thought that Christianity's claim that humans are so despicable that a god had to die for them was the source of the greatest guilt imaginable, and thus the source of both a denial of life and a rejection of the body and the world.  Although an accurate (contextual) reading of the New Testament shows that Nietzsche was confused in his interpretation of the text, his theology was the same as many Christians of his day--and ours.  Many see the cross as a source of great guilt, increasing their shame and mistrust with each passing day.  "And you did that again, after all Jesus has done for you?!  Shame on you!"  This thinking, even if primarily unconscious, was and is all too common.

Many Christians today see Jesus' death on the cross not as something which frees them from sin and guilt and shame, but--without recognizing God's love and grace and the victory of the cross--as something which heaps even greater shame and guilt upon them.

Second, Nietzsche saw the desire for the afterlife as a form of escapism leading to the cowardly rejection of life and an excuse for apathy and deadness of spirit.  He was, in many (descriptive) respects, correct.  For far too long Christians have turned a blind eye to the issues of the world and made comments like, "Oh well, I'm glad heaven is coming. I won't have to see all this garbage anymore."  In a sense, that statement holds some truth; every tear will be wiped away, there will be no more sex trafficking, no more AIDS, no more death, no more divorce, no more abused children.

And what a day that will be.  

But that does not mean that Christians ought to check out of this life and sit by 'til heaven.  In fact, I'm going to venture that individuals and communities who live with their backs to the world will be greatly disappointed when that Day comes.  "I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other!  So, because you are lukewarm--neither hot nor cold--I am about to spit you out of my mouth" (Revelation 3:15-16).

Nietzsche loathed the apathy and lack of vigor that he saw in the Christianity all around him.  His ideal man, the "Übermensch," was always overcoming, always vigorous in the face of trial, always fighting against his own, internal weaknesses.  He put this beautifully in a commonly misunderstood aphorism (and one much loved by the Nazis) in Thus Spoke Zarathustra: "You should love peace as a means to new wars--and the short peace more than the long" (Tr. Kaufmann).  He's urging his readers to avoid apathy in matters of the spirit, and although his ideal spirit is very different from that of Jesus', a Christian would do well to heed his call to vigorous life. 

Paul encouraged something similar, even with an allusion to war: "Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him. An athlete is not crowned unless he competes according to the rules. It is the hard-working farmer who ought to have the first share of the crops" (2 Timothy 2:3-6).

Paul was in a constant struggle with himself and the world.  Not out of shame; not to prove himself worthy, but because he knew his God and wanted desperately to make him known to others.  However, the struggle for the Christian, unlike that of Nietzsche's Übermensch, is not done in the power of the self.  It is not a self-overcoming.  The Christian struggle is energized by the surpassing power of God, the power that defeated death in the resurrection of the son of God.  This power is made available to the Christian through the Holy Spirit. (For more on the Holy Spirit, see Francis Chan's Forgotten God.)

Nietzsche did write horrific anti-Christian statements and he slandered Jesus himself, but we would do well to mind the critiques of Christendom which he put forward.

What does "in the world but not of it" even mean?

When I say that I live "in the world but not of it," I'm saying, together with Jesus, that I don't derive my meaning and gain from this present world system.  My meaning is based upon another system, one grounded in truth and justice and love.

The following is an analysis of the foundation of that^^^ claim.

A friend asked me today about the translation of John 18:36.  It's that classic "my kingdom is not of this world" passage.  Here is how the common translation, the NIV, handles it:

Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.”

The context is this: Jesus has been accused by (a) faction(s) of the Jewish religious elite on the grounds of blasphemy: he's claiming to be their king (which means a lot more than just "king" in the Jewish worldview).  The Jewish elite have brought Jesus to Pilate, the current Roman prefect of Judea.  Pilate has a power which the occupied Jewish state does not: execution.

So that you can see what's going on in the text in question (v.36), here's a bigger chunk:

33 "Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, 'Are you the king of the Jews?'
34 'Is that your own idea,' Jesus asked, 'or did others talk to you about me?'
35 'Am I a Jew?' Pilate replied. 'Your own people and chief priests handed you over to me. What is it you have done?'
36 Jesus said, 'My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.'
37 'You are a king, then!' said Pilate.
Jesus answered, 'You say that I am a king. In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.'

So, Jesus is talking about kingship and kingdoms to a high ranking official in the government belonging to the ruler of the entire known world: Tiberius Caesar.

Here is my translation of verse 36.  I've put the original Greek below:

Jesus replied; "The kingdom--the one over which I have authority--does not derive its principle from this world.  If the kingdom, my kingdom, derived its principle from this world, my common servants would contend as with a competitor, so that I wouldn't be surrendered to the Jews.  But presently, the kingdom--the one over which I have authority--is not from here." 

36ἀπεκρίθη Ἰησοῦς· Ἡ βασιλεία ἡ ἐμὴ οὐκ ἔστιν ἐκ τοῦ κόσμου τούτου· εἰ ἐκ τοῦ κόσμου τούτου ἦν ἡ βασιλεία ἡ ἐμή, οἱ ὑπηρέται οἱ ἐμοὶ ἠγωνίζοντο ἄν, ἵνα μὴ παραδοθῶ τοῖς Ἰουδαίοις· νῦν δὲ ἡ βασιλεία ἡ ἐμὴ οὐκ ἔστιν ἐντεῦθεν.

Concerning "this world": By using not only the definite article (τοῦ) but also a demonstrative (τούτου), he is strongly emphasizing the "this" in "this world," which suggests a contrast against another possible world system.  He's also really emphatic about the kingdom being his kingdom.  Each appearance of "kingdom" is accompanied by an emphatic "my," or, "under my authority."  See the definitions of "my," ἐμός, below.  

Further, the preposition έκ (generally translated "of"), which I've given some definitions of below, is the same preposition used in verse 37 in reference to those who are "of the truth":

"'You say that I am a king.  For this purpose I was born and for this purpose I have come into the world—to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice'" (ESV).

Surely he's not referring to someone materially made "of the truth," but to someone who derives his/her principle, gain, meaning, from it.  Similarly, I would say, Jesus is claiming that his kingdom derives its principle, its gain, its meaning, from another world system, not some other material (or non-material) planet. (This is not, however, an argument against an unseen spiritual reality.)

So, again, when I say that I live "in the world but not of it," I'm saying, together with Jesus, that I don't derive my meaning and gain from this present world system.  My meaning is based upon another system, one grounded in truth and justice and love.  Jesus is saying that his followers aren't fighting his execution because his kingdom doesn't require his avoidance of execution.   

Because in his kingdom death doesn't win.  In his kingdom, security and honor and justice and peace are dealt out by God himself.  And, because this God is completely loving, uncompromisingly just, radiantly holy and impenetrably wise, the dealing out is of a different world entirely.  A different system than that of Caesar.   

That is what it means to be "in the world but not of it."

I'm not saying that this world doesn't matter.
I'm not saying that there is some other physical reality where I in fact live.

I am saying that the value, meaning and purpose of my life are derived from another system.

One that puts the good of others above my own.

One that puts truth before good feelings.
One that has no king except Him who laid down his life for his friends and calls me to do the same every day.

This is the Kingdom of God.  It's located here, now, in the same physical universe, with the same science and the same broken people.

But it's a different philosophy.  It's a different view.  It's a different King.

And it lasts forever. 

_______

ἐμός (emos 1699)
(This is the word generally translated "my" in the clause, "if my kingdom...")1. my
mine, denoting; possession, power over, authorship, right, etc. As the possessive adjective it has a greater emphasis than the cases of the personal pronoun above.
2. mine
mine, much more emphatic than the above; mine, denoting possession, power over, authorship, right, etc. As the possessive adjective, it has a greater emphasis than the personal pronoun above.
3. mine own
4. me (of)
my, mine; more emphatic, denoting possession, power over, authorship, right, etc

ἐκ (ek 1537)
1. of
out of, from among (a preposition governing only the Genitive case, and denoting motion from the interior; *opposite to εἰς (into/for) (eis 1519)).
2. from
from, from among, out of (motion from the interior).
3. out of
out of, from among (motion from the interior).
4. by
from, out of, implying motion from the interior; originating in, as the source, cause, or occasion, from, by; the material from which anything is made, of.