However, a close reading of Paul’s argument in the light of our inductive definition of the Old Testament term “covenant” (“elected relationship of obligation under oath”, see above) and the two-fold nature of the Abrahamic covenants (nationhood followed by international blessing) points to a very different, even opposite, conclusion. As we will see, Paul’s sustained argument is that the extension of blessing to the Gentiles is not brought about by their inclusion in the covenant. Rather, the extension of sonship to the Gentiles happens by the coming of Christ, the one seed of Abraham, who fulfils the covenants, pours out the Spirit, and enables all nations to be blessed in him through faith.

To be continued …

(This post is part of a series)

[2] Wright, Climax, 155–56.

Firstly, the concept of “covenant” takes many different shapes and sizes. While all covenants have the same basic nature (an elected, as opposed to natural, relationship of obligation under oath), there are various types of divine-human covenants in the documents we have examined:[1]

1. a covenant between God and Abram (and his seed), to make him into a geopolitical nation (Gen 15).
2. a related but distinct covenant between God and Abraham (and his seed), to bring about international blessing contingent upon his loyalty (Gen 17). This covenant involves the sign of circumcision (which seems to signify the restraint of the flesh), and is ratified by the sacrifice of his son.
3. a covenant of law with Israel, related to the covenant of Genesis 17. If Israel is obedient to God, they will be a source of international blessing (e.g. Exod. 19). This covenant is broken by Israel as soon as it is received.
4. a covenant of mediation between Moses and God, upon which the covenant with Israel becomes contingent (Exod 33-34).
5. a related covenant of mediation between God and the Levitical priesthood (Num 25:11-13, Neh 13:28, Jer 33:21, Mal 2:4). This involved offering sacrifices and teaching the law. This is emphasised as a covenant of great glory in Sirach 45.
6. the servant of Yahweh, who is “a covenant [for the] people” and (therefore) “a light [for the] nations” (Isa 42:6, 49:8).
7. a covenant between God and redeemed Israel, that they will minister to the nations (Isa 59-61). This also appears to be the expectation of Jeremiah and Ezekiel.
8. the single, overarching covenant of human obligation expounded in Jubilees.
9. Philo’s allegorical interpretations of the covenants as “bequests”
10. the unique sociological view expounded by the Qumran “Community of Those Entering the New Covenant”, in which concepts such as “community”, “entry” and boundary markers begin to make an appearance. This kind of view of the meaning of “covenant” is also often assumed by proponents of the New Perspective on Paul, even though it is the one that is farthest removed from the Old Testament.

The task of identifying any “covenantal” background to Paul’s thought must take this pluriformity into consideration. We cannot simply speak of “the covenant”, as if it is an easily identifiable, monolithic entity. We must understand which covenant (or covenants), if any, Paul is speaking about in any given passage. This observation, of course, also follows from the fact that Paul himself tends to speak of a plurality of covenants.

Secondly, there is no indication in these documents that blessing for the nations is contingent upon their “entering into” any of these covenants. The fulfillment of the covenants by Israel does, indeed, bring salvific blessing to the nations, but there is no requirement that they must be a party to any of the covenants. A salvific relationship with God, therefore, is a much broader concept than the narrower category of “covenant”.

Of all the second-temple documents we have surveyed, the writings of the Qumran community are the most strikingly radical in their interpretations of the Old Testament “covenant” concept. At Qumran, covenantal vocabulary became inseparably bound up with sociological, sectarian concepts such as “community”, “entry” and boundary markers.[1] The history of the community helps us to explain this transformation: it seems that after being expelled by the Jerusalem priesthood, this community was established outside Jerusalem by its leader, the “Teacher of Righteousness”. They believed that the rest of Israel had committed apostasy. Their own community was the only true remnant of Israel, and therefore the unique locus of God’s covenant with Israel. The particular rules of the community (involving worship, calendar observance, etc.) were coterminous with the boundaries of the new (or renewed) covenant thus established: all other Jews were outside the covenant.[2]

The Qumran community describes itself as “The Community of Those Entering the new covenant” (יחד באי הברית החדשה).[3] A person’s commitment is described in terms of “entry” (בוא) into the Covenant (1QS 2.12, 18; 5.8, 20; 6.15; CD 2.2; 3.10; 6.11, 19; 8.1; 9.3; 13.14; 15.5; 19.14; 20.25; 1QH^a 13.23; 21.9); “crossing over” (עבר) to the Covenant (1QS 1.16, 18, 20, 24; 2.10; CD 1.20; 16.12); and “holding fast to” (חזק) the Covenant (1QS 5.3; 1QSb 1.2; CD 20.27; 1QH^a 10.28; 12.39; 23.9).[4] It seems that the Qumran community had taken concepts that initially applied to the initiation of the covenant relationship between God and Israel, and has transformed them by speaking of an individual entering into an already established covenant. The verb עבר, which in Deut 29:11 refers to the whole community “crossing over” (the Jordan) into a covenant, is used in the initiation ceremony for an individual who is “inducted into” the covenant.[5] Food laws, in particular, served as important marks distinguishing between the Qumran covenant community and the Gentiles and other Jewish groups who were “outside” the covenant.[6]

Interestingly, while this sociological “grammar” of covenant appears to be unique to the Qumran sectarians in the Second Temple period, it finds many parallels in the covenantal grammar of the New Perspective.[7] Here is an example of this “sociological” use of covenantal grammar from Tom Wright, which is far more akin to the Qumran sectarians than to the use of the word ‘covenant’ in the Old Testament or other second-temple writings (italic emphasis original, bold emphasis mine):

The second element in justification is of course … that of the covenant. The question is … Who are the members of God’s single family, and how can you tell? … It is to recognize that this [covenantal theology] is part of the root meaning of the words Paul is using, that Torah itself was the covenant charter which left Israel with the puzzling question, how it could be fulfilled and thus do its job of designating God’s people and keeping them on track. ‘The works of Torah’ could not do it, partly because Israel failed lamentably to perform them (2:21-24) and partly because, to the extent that those “works” focused on the things which kept Jews separate from Gentiles, they would have prevented the establishment of the single family God always had in mind … But this “covenantal”, and hence “ecclesiological”, meaning of “justification” …[8]

For Wright, “covenantal theology” has sociological / ecclesiological distinctions at its heart. While this kind of strong association of sociological terms with the covenant is akin to the Qumran sectarians, it is quite different to the use of the word “covenant” in the Old Testament or in any of the other second temple texts we have examined. And, we shall argue, it is also quite different to Paul’s use of the word “covenant” as well.

[2] Evans, “Qumran Literature”, 79-80.

[3] David N. Freedman and David Miano, “People of the New Covenant”, in The Concept of the Covenant in the Second Temple Period (ed. Stanley E. Porter and Jacqueline C. R. de Roo; Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 71; Leiden: Brill, 2003), 7–26 (22–23).

[4] Evans, “Qumran Literature”, 63.

[5] Martin G. Abegg, “The Covenant of the Qumran Sectarians”, in The Concept of the Covenant in the Second Temple Period (ed. Stanley E. Porter and Jacqueline C. R. de Roo; Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 71; Leiden: Brill, 2003), 81–97 (esp. 85–86); Evans, “Qumran Literature”, 63.

[6] Stephen A. Reed, “The Role of Food as Related to Covenant in Qumran Literature”, in The Concept of the Covenant in the Second Temple Period (ed. Stanley E. Porter and Jacqueline C. R. de Roo; Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 71; Leiden: Brill, 2003), 129–64.

[7] See also the quotations in Stephen Westerholm, “The ‘New Perspective’ at Twenty-Five”, in Justification and Variegated Nomism Volume 2: The Paradoxes of Paul (ed. D. A. Carson, Peter T. O’Brien and Mark A. Seifrid; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 1–38.

[8] Wright, Tom. Justification: God’s Plan and Paul’s Vision (London: SPCK, 2009), 187-88.

Full bibliography

In this post we will look at the usages of the word “covenant” amongst second-temple Jews that conform closely to the Old Testament’s usage. In the next post we will look at the exception.

Many of the writings use διαθήκη in more or less the same way we find in the Old Testament, albeit with differing emphases. The close association between covenant and oath continues (e.g. Wis 18:22). The Psalms of Solomon refer to the covenant as a firm, binding promise made by God to the nation (Pss. Sol. 9:8–11, 10:4, 17:15). The books of the Maccabees concentrate on “the covenant of the fathers” (1 Macc 2:20, 2 Macc 8:15), which is associated particularly with circumcision (1 Macc 1:15) and the law (1 Macc 1:57, 63; 2:27, 50). Human loyalty to the covenant will be rewarded by divine loyalty in crushing Israel’s enemies (1 Macc 4:10). The “covenant of everlasting priesthood” with Phinehas is also mentioned (1 Macc 2:54), as a reward for Phineas’ ‘zeal’ (a key word in Maccabees). There are also references to non-divine covenants (e.g. Sir 11:20; Sir 14:12, 17; 1 Macc 1:11, 11:9).

The Wisdom of Ben Sira contains an extended treatise which mentions many of the covenants between God and glorious national heroes. Earlier in Sirach, διαθήκη refers mainly to the Mosaic law or commandments (Sir 24:23, 28:7, 39:8, 41:19, 42:2). But in chapters 44–45 there is a list of various “famous men” that are praised because “The Lord apportioned to them great glory” (Sir 44:1). The covenants with Noah (Sir 44:18), Abraham, Isaac and Jacob (Sir 44:19–23), Aaron (Sir 45:6–22), Phinehas (Sir 45:23–24) and David (Sir 45:25–26) all get a notable mention. The covenantal ministries of Moses and Aaron, in particular, are depicted as ministries of fabulous God-given glory (Sir 45:2, 3, 7, 20) as they teach the law and offer sacrifices.

Jubilees (late 2^nd Century BC) sees the covenant in similar terms to Genesis—a commitment or obligations by or between God and men under oath.[1] However, Jubilees stresses the human commitments more than does Genesis.[2] Jubilees 6:1–38 transforms the unilateral covenant that God makes with Noah into a bilateral covenant where human obligations are given prominence, explicitly linking it to the Mosaic covenant.[3] The same trend can be seen with Jubilees’ interpretation of the patriarchal covenants. “The ultimate goal of Jubilees is to show that there is only a single covenant” in which human obligation is emphasised—in effect, Jubilees universalises the Sinai covenant.[4]

Philo uses covenantal concepts sparingly. “He has no choice but to deal with it because it is a part of the Septuagint text”.[5] He generally interprets the word according to its legal usage, “will”, using it as an allegorical symbol to describe the gracious bequest by God of certain graces: wisdom, law, word, justice, even himself (Sacrifices 57; Worse 67–68; Names 51–53, 58; Dreams 2.223–24, 2.237).[6] Nevertheless, Philo does share some of the concerns of the ot that we noted above. He discusses the question of the identity of the seed of Abraham, concluding that it is the wise man (Heir 313). He understands that the covenant with Abraham brings blessing to the nations, not by the nations joining the covenant, but by the nations learning from Israel’s wisdom (Names 263, cf. Deut 4:4–8).

Every reference to διαθήκη in Josephus is to a human will (Ant. 17.p, 17.53, 17.78, 17.146, 17.188, 17.195, 17.202, 17.224, 17.226, 17.228, 17.238, 17.244, 17.246, 17.249, 17.321, 17.322, 18.156; J.W. 1.451, 1.573, 1.588, 1.600, 1.625, 1.646, 1.664, 1.668, 1.669, 2.3, 2.20, 2.21, 2.31, 2.35, 2.38, 2.98, 2.99.). Mason observes that Josephus “systematically removed the stronger covenantal statements from his paraphrase of the Bible (Ant. 1.183–185, 191–193) in his attempt to avoid angering his Roman opponents (who, in fact, possessed the land along with their ‘gods’)”.[7] Hence “[t]he only advantage the Jews have is their association with Moses, who in his extreme sagacity discovered the truth about God and formulated laws in keeping with God’s will”.[8]

We have seen that none of these texts import sociological categories (such as “boundary markers” or “badges of membership” or “entry into a community”) into their use of the word “covenant”. This fact makes it less likely that we will find Paul himself using sociological categories when he used the word. However, there is one community in the second temple period which does use sociological categories in speaking of the “covenant”: the Qumran sectarians. We will look at the Qumran use of the word “covenant” in the next post.

[2] Van Ruiten, “Covenant of Noah”, 170.

[3] Van Ruiten, “Covenant of Noah”.

[4] Van Ruiten, “Covenant of Noah”, 190.

[5] Lester L. Grabbe, “Did All Jews Think Alike? ‘Covenant’ in Philo and Josephus in the Context of Second Temple Judaic Religion”, in The Concept of the Covenant in the Second Temple Period (ed. Stanley E. Porter and Jacqueline C. R. de Roo; Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 71; Leiden: Brill, 2003), 251–66 (256).

[6] Grabbe, “Philo and Josephus”, 257.

[7] Steve Mason, Josephus and the New Testament (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1992), 70.

[8] Paul Spilsbury, “Josephus”, in Justification and Variegated Nomism Volume 1: The Complexities of Second Temple Judaism (ed. D. A. Carson, Peter T. O’Brien and Mark A. Seifrid; Mohr Siebeck: Tübingen, 2001), 241–60 (258).

Full bibliography

As part of a series on the Lord’s Prayer, I was charged with preaching a sermon on this line: ‘Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the Evil One’ (Matthew 6:13). In Matthew, the Lord’s Prayer occurs in the midst of Jesus’ teaching about prayer (6:5-15) which in turn is part of Jesus’ famous ‘Sermon on the Mount’ (Matthew 5-7). Even a brief glance at the Sermon on the Mount reveals that Old Testament forms a significant part of the background for Jesus’ discourse (5:12, 17, 21, 27, etc.). Indeed, the whole Gospel of Matthew presents Jesus, the son of David, the son of Abraham (1:1), as the one who fulfils Old Testament categories and expectations [1]. At some points, Jesus recapitulates significant events in Israel’s history—e.g. the Exodus (2:15) and the exile and return (2:17). Jesus is also depicted as succeeding where Israel failed—e.g. the temptation in the wilderness (4:1-11) and the restoration of the far reaches of the promised land overrun by Gentiles (4:15, cf. Isa 9:1). When, in 5:1-2, Jesus sits and begins to teach his disciples on ‘the mountain’, there are strong echoes of the two great mountains of Old Testament revelation: the historical Sinai (e.g. Exo 19:3) and the eschatological Zion (e.g. Isa 2:3). It soon becomes apparent that in this ‘Sermon on the Mount’ (5:1-7:29), Jesus is forming his disciples into a new eschatological people. The Sermon’s unifying theme is ‘the kingdom of heaven’, a phrase which occurs at significant points in the Sermon (5:3, 10, 17; 6:10, 33; 7:12, 21-23; cf. 4:17, 23) [2]. The Sermon ‘provides ethical guidelines for life in the kingdom, but does so within an explanation of the place of the contemporary setting within redemption history and Jesus’ relation to the OT.’ [3] Hence the identification of Old Testament background, and the nature in which Jesus’ disciples are to ‘fulfil’ the Old Testament, are primary interpretive questions for the Sermon on the Mount and its constituent parts. The primary difference between the eschatological ‘kingdom of heaven’ and the Old Testament kingdom of Israel is the nature of the relationship between God and his people. ‘[T]he emphasis in the Gospels on God as “Father” rests directly upon the announcement of the eschatological salvation that brings about this new relationship between God and his people. The expression “Father in heaven” is remarkable in that it combines the personal, or immanent, element of fatherhood with the transcendental element of God’s otherness, “in heaven.”’ [4] Hence the Lord’s Prayer, which begins, ‘Our Father in Heaven’ (6:9), is the prayer of the new people of God—a people who are the fulfilment of the expectations of the Old Testament people of Israel but who go far beyond Old Testament Israel in their relationship to God as both universal Lord and personal Father.

Inadequate trails

Suggestions that I received from others about how to apply the text, ‘Lead us not into temptation’ were mainly along the lines of advice about avoiding various temptations (e.g. install Internet blocking software to avoid Internet pornography). Unfortunately, this advice by itself wasn’t very helpful given that Matthew 6:13 is found in a prayer rather than in a piece of ethical exhortation. It’s about asking God to not lead you into temptation—not about how to avoid temptation yourself per se. Furthermore, when people in our society (Sydney) use the word ‘temptation’, they’re generally thinking about relatively trivial things. There’s the game-show ‘temptation’ that tempts contestants with various materialistic prizes like internet fridges and Volvos. ‘Temptation’ is also used of things like food and sex. But if this is what ‘temptation’ is all about, then it doesn’t seem important enough to explain why ‘lead us not into temptation’ is the sole negative request in the Lord’s Prayer, up there alongside such cosmic and theological concerns as ‘your will be done on earth as it is in heaven’ and ‘forgive us our sins’. What is ‘temptation’ anyway? Carson comments that the word for ‘temptation’ (peirasmos) almost always outside the NT means ‘testing’ rather than ‘temptation’ [5]. He goes on to suggest that in the light of James 1:13-14, which says that God cannot ‘tempt’ anyone or be ‘tempted’ himself (assuming that the word here means ‘tempt’ and not ‘test’), it is hard to see that peirasmos means ‘temptation’ in Matthew 6:13, for then it would be asking God not to do something that is impossible for him to do anyway. On the other hand, Carson continues, if the word means ‘testing’ there is another problem, because the Bible promises that we will face testings of various kinds and we should consider them pure joy (James 1:2). Carson suggests that we read it more expansively, ‘trial or temptation that results in fall’, and that we simply run with the tension between asking God to spare us testing but rejoicing when such testing comes anyway. A large part of the problem, of course, is that we are dealing with a Greek word (peirasmos) that has a different semantic range to any of our English equivalents (e.g. ‘trial’, ‘test’, ‘temptation’). In answer to the question, ‘What does peirasmos mean?’ we could answer that sometimes it comes close to the English words ‘trial’ and ‘test’ (e.g. James 1:2, 12) and sometimes it has the same meaning as the English word ‘tempt’ (e.g. James 1:13-14). Or, we could answer, it means both. Or we could answer that it is ambiguous. However, in this case there is a better way. We don’t have to import our own preconceived notions about what ‘temptation’ or even ‘testing’ might mean from the English usage of these words. Instead, we can look at what the Bible itself says about the word peirasmos. Who was ‘tested / tempted’ in the Old Testament, by whom, how, where, when and why?

Understanding the Old Testament Background

I began with a word study on the word peirasmos as it appears throughout the Bible [6]. Of course, it’s important to realise that word studies by themselves can be misleading. This is because there is never a perfect overlap between a word and a concept. A word study can fail to pick up other words associated with the same concept, and can pick up usages of the word that are extraneous to the concept under investigation. The main way to guard against this is to look at the context of every instance of the word to check out how it is being used; and to follow up on other words that consistently appear in these contexts. Nevertheless, in this case there seemed to be a very close relationship between the word peirasmos and the concept of ‘testing’. This is mainly because the word peirasmos in the Old Testament is most commonly the name of a place, ‘Massah’. This place is named in Exodus 17:7. ‘Massah’ is simply the Hebrew equivalent of the Greek word peirasmos; it seems to be derived from the piel feminine singular participle of nasah, to test or ‘put to the test’, hence ‘place of putting to the test’. The Greek verb equivalent is peiraz?. Although in later references the name has the definite article (e.g. Deut 6:16, 9:22, Psa 94:8) when originally introduced it has no article (Exo 17:7; as here in Matt 6:13). ‘Massah’ was a place named after an event. In my sermon, I explained this by reference to a few place names in Australia. When Captain James Cook was exploring the East Coast of Australia in the 1700’s, his boat the Endeavour struck a reef, and nearly sank. He wasn’t a very happy sailor at the time. The first thing next morning he looked out and saw a Cape. He called it ‘Cape Tribulation’. Behind it was a mountain. He called it ‘Mount Sorrow’. Up the coast, the place where they finally rested for repairs was called ‘Weary Bay’. They’re all places with stories attached to them, and ‘Massah’ is the same. In the OT, Massah was the paradigmatic place where Israel’s relationship with God was fractured and God became somewhat distant from them, despite his covenantal commitment just recently demonstrated in their deliverance from Egypt. In Exodus 14-15, God had saved the nation of Israel from slavery in Egypt, taking them through the Red Sea into the wilderness of Sin. This great event is summed up in the word rhuomai, ‘to deliver’ (cf Matt 6:13, ‘deliver us from the evil one’):

Exodus 14:30 Thus the LORD delivered (errusato) Israel that day from the hand of the Egyptians, and Israel saw the Egyptians dead on the seashore. 31 Israel saw the great power that the LORD used against the Egyptians, so the people feared the LORD, and they believed in the LORD and in his servant Moses.

But no sooner had God delivered Israel from the Egyptians, then they began to grumble and complain against God their deliverer. They had been delivered through two walls of water ‘into the wilderness’, and their first act on being delivered was to complain about the lack of water (Exod 15:24). They seemed to think that the God who had just parted the Red Sea couldn’t give them a few mouthfuls of water in the desert! From that time on, God’s relationship with the Israelites was a relationship characterised by ‘testing’. God gave them water, but in doing so he ‘tested’ Israel to see if they would obey his commandments (Exod 15:25). Next, they complained about food, so he gave them bread, but even the bread-giving included a ‘test’ from God, a command not to gather too much (Exod 16:4)—which many failed (Exod 16:20). Then, once again, in Exodus 17 the people complained about lack of water. Moses ominously describes this complaint as ‘putting the Lord to the test’, that is, ‘testing’ God to see if he really loved them and cared for them (Exod 17:2). God again gives them water, but the place is named from that time on ‘Massah’, the place of testing (Exod 17:7):

Exodus 17:7 And he called the name of the place Massah (peirasmos) and Meribah, because of the quarreling of the people of Israel, and because they tested (peirazein) the LORD by saying, “Is the LORD among us or not?”

God had delivered them from Egypt because of his love. But he had then led them into ‘testing’ in the wilderness, the place where God tested their commitment to him and where the people tested God’s love for them. I suggested that God and Israel are like a newlywed husband and wife; on the honeymoon, the wife complains that her husband doesn’t love her and wishes she were back home as a single woman and the husband sets up surveillance cameras and hires a Private Eye to make sure she’s going to be faithful. Like any relationship that begins on such a rocky start, the prognosis was not good. Sure enough, the ‘testing’ continued. Later on, just before the people are about to enter the Promised Land, they again ‘tested’ God. God had promised them the land of Canaan, a land flowing with milk and honey, to be theirs. But the people didn’t believe him. They were afraid of the previous inhabitants of the land, they suspected that God didn’t love them and they didn’t trust God. They didn’t enter the land. As a result, God told them they would not inherit the land for forty years. This ‘test’ was the final straw for God; his people didn’t trust him and so he banished them to forty years’ wandering in the wilderness (Num 14:22-23). Throughout the rest of the OT, ‘Massah’ is referred to as that terrible place of testing, the place where mutual suspicion entered into the relationship between God and his people (which was not God’s fault, of course for he was always faithful to his promises. They had no right to test God). The law and the prophets began to refer to Massah, the ‘place of testing’, as if it applied to the whole wilderness experience, from the crossing of the Red Sea until the entry into the Promised Land 40 years later. (Deut 6:16, 8:2, 9:22, 33:8; Psa 78:18, 78:41, 78:56, 95:8-9, 106:14) In the end, Israel emerged chastened and humbled by the whole ‘testing’ experience (Deut 8:16). But even then, the people still had a problem: they did not fully trust God, and so the testing continued throughout Israel’s history. God tested them to see if they would obey him (Deut 13:3; Judg 2:22, 3:1, 3:4; 2 Chron 32:31) and they generally failed; for their part, the people tested God to see if he really cared for them and loved them and would keep his promises (Judges 6:39). In the light of the OT, Matthew 6:13 literally means ‘Don’t lead us into Massah’. That is, it is a prayer asking God to make sure that we don’t relive that desert experience of Israel, where they suspected God of foul play, and God (quite rightly) suspected them of ungrateful and disobedient hearts.

Jesus: the ultimate test

One of the first acts of Jesus is to go out into the wilderness after emerging from the waters of baptism. He is led into the wilderness by the Spirit of God, but he is not actually tested by God. Instead, he is tested by Satan (Matt 4:1, 3; Heb 4:15). And instead of failing the test, like the people of Israel did, Jesus passes. He proves that he completely trusts God as God’s loving and faithful Son. He is hungry, but trusts God’s Word to sustain him (Matt 4:4). He isn’t suspicious of God his Father; he completely trusts his Father to give him whatever he needs – whether it is food in the wilderness or authority over the world. He doesn’t ‘put God to the test’ (Matt 4:7).

From then on, there are two types of people. There are those who continue the pattern of the old Israel, people who ‘test’ God and Jesus, people who don’t trust God but are suspicious of his love and care for them. In Matthew’s Gospel, the Pharisees and associated hangers-on are like this (16:1, 19:3, 22:18, 22:35). But those who follow Jesus, his disciples, must be characterised by trust in God and Jesus. They mustn’t go by the way of Massah, they mustn’t have an attitude of ‘testing’ but of ‘trusting’ (1 Cor 10:9, Heb 3:8-9).

In the Garden of Gethsemane, that place of great fear and anxiety before Jesus is arrested and taken to die on the cross, Jesus tells his disciples to ‘watch and pray that you may not enter into testing.’ The cross of Jesus is the ultimate act of deliverance, where we are saved from our sins, where we can have confidence that our debts are forgiven (Matt 6:12). But it looked like the ultimate disaster, where God’s Son Jesus seemed defeated by the world and all the authorities. In the midst of this greatest trial of all, the disciples are urged to pray that they will not enter into testing – suspecting God of reneging on his word, and so turning away from Jesus.

Testing and God’s redeemed people

God never tests his people in the NT like he did in the OT. Christians certainly do undergo ‘tests’ in the NT, but these ‘tests’ are not an act of God ‘testing’ us to see if we will obey him, like a distant examiner or a suspicious husband. Christians never undergo special ‘tests’ such as God gave his people in the wilderness, but simply the ‘trials’ that are common to humanity (1 Cor 10:13), or the temptations of Satan (1 Thess 3:5). God always provides a way of escape from these type of trials (1 Cor 10:13, 2 Pet 2:9). They are described like a refiner’s fire, proving our trust in God and our willingness to follow Jesus (1 Pet 1:6, 4:12). In all these things, God’s attitude to us is always as a loving heavenly father, never as a ‘suspicious heavenly examiner’.

The book of James provides an extended commentary on the theme of testing, applying the ‘testing’ that Jesus mentions in his prayer to a Christian’s everyday life with all of its economic inequalities—(modified ESV):

James 1:2 Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet testings (peirasmois) of various kinds, 3 for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. 4 And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. 6 But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. 7 For that person must not suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; 8 he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways. 9 Let the lowly brother boast in his exaltation, 10 and the rich in his humiliation, because like a flower of the grass he will pass away. 11 For the sun rises with its scorching heat and withers the grass; its flower falls, and its beauty perishes. So also will the rich man fade away in the midst of his pursuits. 12 Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under testing (peirasmon), for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him. 13 Let no one say when he is tested (peirazomenos), ‘I am being tested (peirazomai) by God,’ for God cannot be tested (apeirastos) with evil, and he himself tests (peirazei) no one. 14 But each person is tested (peirazetai) when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. 15 Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.

Exposition of Matthew 6:13

Here, then, is the text of the first part of my sermon. I began with popular contemporary definitions of the word, ‘temptation’:

I then tried to help people realise that the Bible is not necessarily talking directly about the things we care about—it often has far more important things to teach us:

I spent some time talking about the Old Testament background, because I wanted to define the word ‘temptation’ using the concrete biblical story rather than define it according to abstract terms or contemporary usage.

NB I mentioned the Bible Dictionary to help people to see that the original languages are not actually beyond the reach of the ordinary lay person who attends church each week. Even if they can’t read Greek, they can all read a Bible Dictionary! They don’t have to rely on me to tell them what the word ‘temptation’ actually means.

In the interests of time I compressed the story of Exodus and Numbers somewhat, just bringing out the salient points:

An explanation of Jesus’ successful recapitulation of the ‘story’ of Israel was needed before moving to application:

Then we move on to talk about the relevance of Jesus for us and our situation, through his death on the cross:

Applying Matthew 6:13

Hence the prayer of Matthew 6:13 is a prayer of confident trust, asking God to keep us trusting his loving care for us. It is a prayer that God our Father will keep our focus firmly on his ultimate act of care and provision for us: the deliverance from sin provided by Jesus’ death on the cross. It is a prayer that, in the midst of the common trials of this life, God will help us remember that he is not distant from us, he is not standing back and testing us to see if we will obey, he is not inflicting these things on us as a test; but that he is lovingly refining us and making us more like his Son Jesus Christ. It is a prayer asking God to ‘give us our daily bread’, not to test us to see if we will obey him (as he did when he gave bread to the people in the wilderness), but simply to provide us with what we need as a loving heavenly Father. It is a prayer to deliver us out of the clutches of Satan, who lies to us, who tells us that God does not have our best interests at heart in the midst of these trials, who wants us to become suspicious of our Father and forget how much he loves us. The evil one wants us to think that we know best, and that God doesn’t love us as much as we love ourselves. We may not know exactly why we are suffering; like Job, we may never find out the precise reason for until the Lord returns – all we may know is that God is compassionate and merciful in our suffering (James 5:11). But that is enough.

The application part of my sermon, therefore, was along these lines:

Resources

Carson, D. A.. ‘Matthew’. Pages 1-599 in The Expositor’s Bible Commentary Vol. 8. Edited by Frank E. Gæbelein. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1984.

Hagner, Donald A. Matthew 1-13. Word Biblical Commentary 33A. Dallas: Word, 1993.

Packer, J. I. ‘Temptation’. Pages 1532-33 in The Illustrated Bible Dictionary. Edited by J. D. Douglas. Leicester: IVP, 1980.

The New Bible Dictionary article by Packer was very informative and a helpful synthesis of the data of both testaments. However, it did not bring out the biblical theological movement—the way that Jesus’ ‘testing’ is the lynchpin of the idea of testing in the whole Bible.

The two commentaries I consulted (Carson and Hagner) both (quite helpfully) cross-referenced a number of other NT and texts (Matthew 4:1-11; James 1; 2 Peter 2:9; 1 Cor 7:5; 1 Thess 3:5; Rev 2:10) and also Sirach 2:1, 33:1 to aid in their discussion of the verse. The main hermeneutical issue they discussed was whether the ‘testing’ was a future time of severe apostasy and trial (which they both rejected). However, neither commentary looked in any detail at the Old Testament background. This meant that there was very little to say positively about the verse. After reading these commentaries I could tell the congregation what the verse doesn’t mean, but not much about what it actually does mean.

ENDNOTES

[1] D. A. Carson, ‘Matthew’, in The Expositor’s Bible Commentary Vol. 8 (ed. Frank E. Gæbelein; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1984), 1-599 (28-29).

[2] Carson, ‘Matthew’, 127-28.

[3] Carson, ‘Matthew’, 128.

[4] Donald A. Hagner, Matthew 1-13 (Word Biblical Commentary 33A; Dallas: Word, 1993), 101.

[5] Carson, ‘Matthew’, 173-74.

[6] Using the computer program Bibleworks, I performed a search on all words with roots beginning with the letters peira in the LXX (Greek Old Testament) and in New Testament. I confirmed this with a search on the equivalent Hebrew root N-S-H in the Masoretic Text of the Old Testament, and cross-checked with the article by J. I. Packer, ‘Temptation’ in The Illustrated Bible Dictionary (ed. J. D. Douglas; Leicester: IVP, 1980), 1532-33.

A covenant is not just a ‘will’

The fact that translators of the LXX chose to translate בְּרִית with the Greek word διαθήκη is a little surprising given that by far the most common use of διαθήκη in the extant Greek literature is not a “covenant” in the Old Testament sense (“elected relationship of obligation under oath”), but a written document drawn up to distribute property after a person’s death, a “disposition”, “testament” or “will”.[1] Prior to the 3^rd century BC, there are about 240 instances of διαθήκη.[2] It occurs most abundantly in orators arguing legal cases and in Plato’s Laws (e.g. 922.c, 923.c, 923.e, 924.a, 926.b). Often the plural is used to refer to a will, since the various “dispositions” (διαθήκαι) collectively form a will (Isocrates, Aeginet. 1, 12, 15, 34; Isaeus, Cleonymus, 3). By contrast, the plural of διαθήκη never occurs in the Old Testament. The testator could make or leave a will (διατίθεμαι [Isaeus, Cleonymus 3, 11, 15, 20, 48], ποιέω [Isaeus, Cleonymus 10, 30–31], καταλείπω [Isocrates, Aeginet. 5, 15, 34]), confirm a will (βεβαίω [Isaeus, Cleonymus 18–19]), alter a will by codicil (ἐπανορθόω [Isaeus, Cleonymus 26]), and revoke a will (ἀναιρέω [Isaeus, Cleonymus 14, 18, 21; Philoctemon 30], λύω [Isaeus, Cleonymus 3, 18, 50]). After the death of the testator, a court could declare his will invalid (ποιέω ἄκυρον [Isocrates, Aeginet. 3, 15; Isaeus, Cleonymus 21, Philoctemon 4], καθίστημι ἄκυρον [Isaeus, Aristarchus 22]). By contrast, Old Testament covenants are “broken” (הֵפֵר, διασκεδάζω) by negligence or wilful disobedience (e.g. Gen 17:14; Lev 26:15; Deut 31:16, 20; Isa 24:5, 33:8; Jer 11:10, 31:32; Ezek 16:59), never simply invalidated.

One feature common to Old Testament covenants and some Greek wills is the creation of kinship bonds by “election”. A διαθήκη could be used to bestow legal rights upon people who naturally did not have these rights (e.g. Isaeus, Philoctemon 28). A διαθήκη was a possible means for adopting a son and thus allowing him to inherit property (Isaeus, Aristarchus 9; Astyphilus 5, cf. 10–11; Ciron 40). However, there is evidence that this process was fraught with complications. For example, “I was adopted by Menecles with the strictest possible legality, and [. . .] the form of adoption was not merely verbal or by will [διαθήκῃ] but by very act and deed” (Isaeus, Menecles 44 [Forster, LCL]; see also Isaeus, Hagnias 8–9). By contrast, an ot covenant is a much stronger means of creating kinship bonds.

A covenant is more than just a ‘pact’

The choice of διαθήκη is even more surprising when one considers that there was a Greek word for “pact”: συνθήκη.[3] Demosthenes (1 Steph. 41.9) mentions both συνθήκαι (articles of agreement) and διαθήκαι (articles of disposition) in parallel, showing that they are not synonyms. The translators of the LXX clearly knew the former word; they used it for political pacts between humans (1 Macc 10:26; 2 Macc 12:1, 13:25, 14:20, 14:26–27; Isa 30:1; Dan 11:6, 17) and metaphorical pacts between humans and “death” (Wis 1:16, Isa 28:15). Once, it is used of an agreement between God and humans (Wis 12:21). Nevertheless, 270 times, διαθήκη translates בְּרִית in the Septuagint.[4] Why did the Greek translators of the Old Testament consider the word commonly used for “will” to be more appropriate than the word for “pact” for translating the Old Testament word “covenant”?

The covenant in Cloudcuckooland

The answer, quite literally, may be found in Cloudcuckooland. The ancient comic Aristophanes (c. 445–385 bc), although familiar with the meaning “will” for διαθήκη (Wasps, 584, 589), and also with the word συνθήκη (“pact”, Peace, 1065; Lysistrata, 1268–69), uses διαθήκη in one passage in a way that is identical with our inductive definition of the OT word בְּרִית: “an elected, as opposed to natural, relationship of obligation under oath”.[5] In his fantastic play Birds the hero, Peisetaerus, wants to convince the bird community to establish a carefree hedonistic utopia called “Cloudcuckooland”. The birds gather and ask Peisetaerus to disclose his plan to them. But they are armed and look a little too dangerous, so Peisetaerus says (lines 438–42, my translation):

By Apollo! I will not / unless (and not otherwise) they make a covenant with me [διάθωνται, … διαθήκην ἐμοι] / the very same one that the ape made [διέθετο] with the woman[6] / (the knifemaker): that they neither bite me / nor yank [my] testicles nor dig…

After some brief innuendo, the play continues (lines 444–47, my translation):

Leader of the birds: I make [a covenant] [διατίθεμαι ’γώ]

Peisetaerus: “Now swear these things to me”

Leader of the birds: I swear to prevail in [the opinion of] these: all the judges / and all the spectators [. . .] But if I should transgress, to prevail in [the opinion of] one judge only.

The result of this sworn oath is that Peisetaerus now has a claim over the birds, and is able to order them to dispose of their arms. While the details of the oath are obscure, the meaning of διαθήκη is clear. The birds choose to enter into a new relationship with a human by oath, whereby they are obliged not to hurt him. While the covenantal obligation is unilateral, the covenant established a “truce” (τὰς σπονδάς, line 461), a relationship which enables Peisetaerus to get on with his original task of explaining his idea about Cloudcuckooland to the birds.[7]

The significance of this reference is that it shows a popular usage of διαθήκη, quite distinct from the legal usage, which overlaps significantly with the semantic range of the Hebrew word בְּרִית as we have defined it. This both strengthens our inductive definition of בְּרִית (not merely “pact” but “an elected relationship of obligation under oath”) and also enables us to allow that the Septuagint translators (who undoubtedly influenced Pauline usage of the term more than anyone else) could have easily had this concept in mind when they used διαθήκη.[8]

Although it is only one instance among hundreds, it is a much more significant instance than the statistics would appear to suggest. Firstly, the statistics are already skewed in favour of the legal usage, since there are far more extant legal texts than comic texts.[9] Secondly, Aristophanes himself was being critically studied and copied by scholars at around the same place and time as the Septuagint was being translated (i.e. Alexandria in the 3^rd and 2^nd century bc).[10] Hence there are good reasons to suppose that the translators of the Septuagint would have been familiar with the sort of usage we find here in Aristophanes. In any case, our definition of διαθήκη in the Septuagint, “elected relationship of obligation under oath”, has arisen from the inductive semantic study of Hugenberger and others and does not rely on Aristophanes’ usage. This instance in Aristophanes merely helps to confirm a definition arrived at independently.

[2] This is based on an exhaustive search of the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae. For details of the TLG see Luci Berkowitz and Karl A. Squitier, Thesaurus Linguae Graecae Canon of Greek Authors and Works (3rd ed.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990).

[3] J. Behm and G. Quell, “διαθήκη”, TDNT 2:106–34 (126).

[4] John J. Hughes, “Hebrews IX 15ff. and Galatians III 15ff: A Study in Covenant Practice and Procedure”, Novum Testamentum 21 (1979): 27–96 (30).

[5] Hugenberger, Marriage, 11.

[6] “The various guesses in the scholia show that not even ancient scholars could explain this allusion” (Jeffrey Henderson, “Birds”, in Aristophanes [4 vols.; Loeb Classical Library 178, 488, 179, 180; Cambridge, MA.: Harvard University Press, 1998–2002], 3:1–251 [3:77 fn 30]).

[7] William L. Lane, “Covenant: The Key to Paul’s Conflict with Corinth”, Tyndale Bulletin 33 (1982): 3–29 (22).

[8] See also the definition in Behm and Quell, TDNT 2:112: “a legal fellowship under sacral guarantees”.

[9] Henderson, “Introduction”, 1:33.

[10] Henderson, “Introduction”, 1:33.

Full bibliography

Except for Isaiah 40–66, the eighth century prophets tend not to refer explicitly to Yahweh’s covenant with Israel, even though their message seems to be premised on its existence (e.g. Hos 6:7, 8:1).[1] However, with the exile of national Israel, the prophets begin to refocus on God’s international purposes and look beyond the exile to the “last days”. Here the two-fold covenantal structure of God’s relationship with Israel (nationhood followed by international blessing) re-emerges in a familiar yet also strikingly new form.

Isaiah chapter 40ff speaks about Israel’s restoration, but the ultimate grounds of the restoration is God’s sovereignty as creator and judge (40:27–28)—Israel’s restoration as God’s “people” is both for the sake of God’s special relationship with her (e.g. Isa 43:1–7) and for the sake of the whole world being set to rights, idolatry judged, and “justice” being established in the nations (chapter 41). Historical Israel had not lived up to its calling—it had sinned, and so Israel as a geopolitical entity was blotted out (43:22–28). However, the hope for the nation of Israel and for the other nations comes through an enigmatic “servant” figure. He is given by God as “a covenant [for the] people, a light [for the] nations” (לִבְרִית עָם לְאוֹר גּוֹיִם, Isa 42:6). The two-fold structure of the Abrahamic covenants is evident here: the covenant with the one people will mean blessing and light for all nations.

The servant thus embodies the covenant and perpetuates it for the true “Israel”, who are to recognize that the covenant with whatever Israel may be on view in this context has its point of final reference in its wider application to the nations.[2]

In Isaiah 49:3, the servant is identified with Israel. Yet it is not the “Israel” that was originally called “Israel” (48:1), i.e. geopolitical Israel. The old geopolitical Israel has failed to obey God’s commands, forfeiting any claim to be heirs of the Abrahamic covenant (48:17–18). This new “Servant Israel” is one who will bring national Israel back to God. He will also fulfil the covenant of international blessing by being a “light to the nations”, bringing salvation to the ends of the earth (49:6). Although he will be despised and abhorred by the nation (49:7), God will make him “a covenant for the people”; one who will fulfil the Abrahamic covenant of land (Isa 49:8, cf. Gen 15). Here again we see the twofold structure of the Abrahamic covenants: the servant will fulfil the covenant of land (49:8) so that the promise of international blessing will come about (49:6).

However, there is no indication in Isaiah that the vast mass of saved and worshipping Gentiles are to be “included” in the covenant, or to “enter” the covenant.[3] They don’t need to be! The servant figure is depicted as the one who fulfils the covenants, who brings God’s purposes of nationhood and international blessing to completion. In Isaiah 52:13–53:12, the Servant becomes a vicarious sacrifice for the sins of the people. The outcome of the Servant’s sacrifice is that the covenantal promises associated with Noah, Abraham, Israel and David are fulfilled (Isa 54–55).[4]

Nevertheless, the new “Israel” has a further covenantal role to play in bringing about international blessing. Every individual member of Israel without exception is unrighteous, and must repent and trust in the LORD’s redeemer (Isa 56–59, esp. 59:16–21, cf. Rom 3:10–18). Once Israel is redeemed from this universal depravity, God makes an “everlasting covenant” of ministry with them (Isa 59:20, Isa 61:8). Israel and her seed will be God’s Spirit-empowered mouthpiece (Isa 59:20–21). Nations and kings will come to their light (Isa 60:2, cf. Gen 17:6). They will be a nation of priests, receiving the wealth of the nations as their payment (Isa 60:3–22; 61:6, 8, cf. Exod 19:5). These covenantal promises are ratified by a solemn oath (Isa 62:8–9). Israel’s “priestly” role, however, is now entirely declaratory. The reconstituted Israel does not bring salvation by teaching the law or by providing atonement, but by evangelism (Isa 61:1). Hence “[t]heir seed will be known in the nations and their descendants in the midst of the peoples; all who see them shall recognise that they are seed that YHWH has blessed” (Isa 61:9). Israel has a glorious ministry to the nations that exceeds the glory of Moses’ mediatorial ministry: Israel is “clothed with the garments of salvation” (Isa 61:10–11); they are a “crown of beauty in the hand of [their] God” (Isa 62:2–3). This is in stark contrast to the mediatorial ministry of Moses, who was clothed with a veil to hide God’s glory from the sinful people (Exod 34:33–35).

The nations, then, are called, not to “get in” to the covenant as if they, too, could bring about international blessing, but rather to partake in the blessing that has already been won by the servant’s fulfilment of the covenants, proclaimed by the Spirit-enabled covenant ministers. The nations are to be ruled by Israel’s king (Isa 55:4) and drawn to Israel’s glory (60:1–4). This international blessing is spoken of in the grandest cosmic terms in Isaiah 65–66. There will be a “new heavens and a new earth” in which a new Jerusalem is the centre of a new creation (65:17–25). This new Jerusalem is a woman who brings forth children (66:8), the glory of the nations flows to her (66:12) and God’s glorious name is proclaimed among the nations (66:19). The result is that all flesh will come and worship before the LORD in the new Jerusalem (66:23).

Jeremiah, too, looks forward to an eschatological covenant with Israel with international implications. The book of Jeremiah as a whole is set in the context of international blessing and judgment (1:5, 3:14–18).[5] Jeremiah censures the people for breaking Yahweh’s sworn covenant with their fathers (Jer 11:2–10).[6] In chapters 1–20 Judah has lost her distinction from the nations, standing with the nations under God’s judgment (9:25–26, 18:5–12).[7] Israel is no longer a kingdom of priests or a holy nation (Exod 19:6). The question of how God will bring about international blessing through Abraham’s seed is answered, however, by the new covenant that God will make “after those days” (Jer 31:31–34). God promises here that he will once again write his law on Israel’s hearts (cf. Deut 30:11–14); that he will once again be their God and they his people (cf. Deut 29:13); that knowledge of God will be universal amongst his people; and that he will forgive their sins. International blessing is implicitly linked to the hope of the restored Israel (Jer 31:10).[8] The associated covenants of kingship and ministry also continue (Jer 33:20–22). Once again, however, it would be misleading to speak of the nations being “included” in the covenant.[9] What the Gentiles receive in Jeremiah is not “inclusion” in the covenant, but all the blessings of salvation and forgiveness (via repentance) that flow to them because God has fulfilled his covenant with Israel.

Ezekiel, too, looks forward to a time when God’s covenant with Israel will be renewed, resulting in international blessing. The re-establishment of national unity (Ezek 37:15–22), obedience (Ezek 37:23) and kingship (Ezek 37:24) leads to a “covenant of peace” with Israel which (like Genesis 15) involves land, numerous descendants and Israel’s designation as “God’s people” (Ezek 37:25–27). This leads to knowledge of Yahweh in the nations (Ezek 37:28), first through judgment (Ezek 38–39) and then (more implicitly) in glorious blessing (Ezek 47:8–12, cf. Rev 22:1–2).

Hence the two-fold covenantal structure of God’s relationship with Israel is affirmed, not collapsed, by the prophets. The new covenants that the prophets look forward to are new “elected relationships of obligation under oath” between God and a reconstituted Israel, in which Israel’s obedience to specific obligations will result in blessing for all the nations. Isaiah, in particular, spells out Servant Israel’s obligations in detail: suffering sacrifice (e.g. Isa 49:7–8) and gospel proclamation (e.g. Isa 59:21).

[2] Dumbrell, Covenant and Creation, 193.

^[3] There are, admittedly, proselytes and eunuchs (“outcasts of Israel”, Isa 56:8a) who will gain full access to the Sinai covenant in its historical form (Isa 56:1–8). Luke seems to see this fulfilled in the cleansed Samaritan lepers (Luke 17:11–19) and the temple-worshipping Ethiopian Eunuch (Acts 8:27–40). But this inclusion of physical outcasts into the historical structures of national Israel, while significant, is only the historical precursor to a greater event: the blessing of the Gentiles apart from the historical structures of Israel (Acts 10–11, cf. Isa 56:8b).

[4] Dumbrell, Covenant and Creation, 194–96.

[5] Andrew G. Shead, “The New Covenant and Pauline Hermeneutics”, in The Gospel to the Nations: Perspectives on Paul’s Mission (ed. Peter Bolt & Mark Thompson; Leicester: Apollos, 2000), 33–49 (34).

[6] Weinfeld, TDOT 2:277.

[7] Shead, “New Covenant”, 35.

[8] Shead, “New Covenant”, 43.

[9] Pace Shead, “New Covenant”, 42–43.

I recently preached at the commissioning of two dear friends of mine who have now gone as missionaries to work as ministers in a church in Malaysia, serving the gospel of our Lord. These people have left their comfort, their lifestyle, their careers; they have moved away from those they love (and many of those who love them, like myself). I am told that Christian work in Malaysia is like this: it’s hot and humid, they get paid barely enough to live on, husband and wife are expected by their church to work tremendously long hours with only a few hours of sleep a night (the wife has just borne their second child), and nobody respects them really because they’re not doing anything worthwhile or socially respectable. Furthermore, if it’s proved that they have spoken about Jesus to a Muslim, then they risk jail under the laws of the Malaysian states who interpret the constitution.

Frankly, it’s insane, it’s senseless and it’s irrational. These people are foolish… in the eyes of the world. But I preached on wisdom, from 1 Corinthians 1. And we discovered, as we looked at this text in its Old Testament context, that they are doing the wisest, most sensible, sane, reasonable, prudent, practical thing they could possibly be doing.

1 Corinthians 1 in literary and theological context

Smit has outlined a helpful structure for 1 Corinthians 1:10-4:21, based on syntactical considerations. [1] Following an introduction, in which the themes of ‘Word’ (logos) ‘wisdom’ (sophia) and party strife (especially between Paul and Apollos) are introduced, there are four major sections. Each section has a rhetorical argument followed by a personal address from Paul to the Corinthians. Section I (1:18-2:5) is about ‘word’ (logos): Paul contends that his initial visit to Corinth was in conformity with God’s reason, not human reason. Section II (2:6-3:4) is about ‘wisdom’ (sophia): Paul contends that the Corinthians themselves lack God’s wisdom, whereas he, Paul, has God’s wisdom. Section III (3:5-4:5) seems to shift ground to an argument about Paul and Apollos: Paul challenges the party strife by contending that they all belong to Christ, not to individual men. Once this is established Section IV (4:6-21) is Paul’s attempt to show that he does, indeed, have authority over them in Christ. The sections are linked by important keywords. Smit’s structure shows that the relationship between ‘word’, ‘wisdom’ and party strife is the major concern of the discourse.

What is ‘wisdom’? The word covers a broad range of concepts. In the ot, it was used to refer to reflective thought, articulate discourse and skilled action. [2] These three aspects are also present in 1 Corinthians: thought (1:19), discourse (1:17; 2:1, 4, 6, 13; 6:5; 12:8), and skill (3:10). Thus when applied to God, wisdom can refer to God’s plan for salvation (1:21) [3] or to the actual enactment of this plan, the ‘stuff of salvation’ (1:24, 30; 8:6). [4] Paul’s inclusion of the cross in his discussion of wisdom (1:17-18, 23; 2:2, is striking given that wisdom and crucifixion were utterly antithetical in the ancient world. Hengel’s detailed study shows that crucifixion was widespread, extremely cruel and inflicted mainly on the despised lower classes as a deterrent against the undermining of law and order. It was the most extreme form of public humiliation (social and ethical). Hence the ‘folly’ of the cross is not metaphorical: the cross would have been a sharp, provoking instrument for Paul’s preaching that would have met with real opposition in the mind, speech and action of his listeners. [5]

False trails

Much of the scholarship (discussed below) is interested in trying to find out what the exact situation was in Corinth. The theory seems to be that if we can find out exactly what was happening then, we can look for parallel situations now and apply the text to those situations. This isn’t necessarily a bad place to start. But in this case, there are two problems with this approach. Firstly, it’s notoriously difficult to work out what was happening in Corinth. The scholarship has ended up with a host of rival theories rather than helpful applications. Some believe Paul was countering Gnosticism, others that he was trying to unite Jew and Gentile, others that he was trying to defend himself against adherents of Apollos who were undermining his ministry, others that he is just trying to keep the peace like a good statesman. But more importantly, this approach generally doesn’t reckon with the way that Paul actually ends up solving the problem—by the use of the Old Testament Scriptures.

Another temptation for the preacher might be to fail to capture the breadth of the biblical idea of ‘wisdom’, and so to reduce the word ‘wisdom’ in this passage to a single idea, like practical know-how or ethical action or political prudence. In that case, the centrepiece of the passage (i.e. the cross of Christ) would have little to do with the application (e.g. be good, be united, etc.).

The difference biblical theology makes

The fact that Paul deliberately quotes from the ot using the word gegraptai, ‘it stands written’ (1:19, 31; 2:9; 3:19) with the perfect tense (denoting ongoing relevance) should not be treated lightly. [6] This is further enhanced by Paul’s description of the purpose (hina) of his discussion (tauta): ‘that you may learn in our [case]: “Not beyond that which stands written” (to me huper ha gegraptai)’ (4:6). This has been variously explained, [7] but the most straightforward reading is that Paul’s discussion has aimed to show that the Scriptures, particularly those he has referred to, are necessary and sufficient for the prevention of strife.

Williams has undertaken an important study into Paul’s use of Scripture in this section of 1 Corinthians, showing that it is a significant factor that must be taken into account alongside the historical situation in Corinth. [8] Paul uses Scripture (primarily Isaiah, and also Jeremiah and Daniel) with a high respect for its original context, but interprets it in relation to ‘the Christian time era or the Christ event.’ [9] Oropeza’s study shows that 1 Corinthians 1-4 is imbued with Isaianic themes, and that this is consistent with Paul’s thinking in terms of apocalyptic time frames (1 Cor 1:4-9; 15:20-28, 51-55; 16:22) with its characteristic ‘temporal dualism’. [10] Paul is fighting against a wrong eschatology, which was leading to moral misbehaviour and divisive conduct. [11] As we shall see, both ‘wisdom’ and ‘rule’ are significant motifs in each of the scriptural contexts from which Paul draws his teaching.

The book of Isaiah has a discernible ‘trajectory’ which takes place across the book as a whole and within its individual sections. [12] This trajectory takes us from the existing world order (with its ruling powers: Israel, Assyria and Babylon) to a new world order established by God. It takes place via demolition and reconstruction, judgment and salvation, in that paradoxical order. Its crucial transformative event is the forgiveness that comes through the discipline of a suffering servant, and it climaxes in God’s Spirit-empowered servants being sent out (e.g. Isa 61:1) to preach the same two-edged message which divides the world into two groups: the judged and the saved. [13]

In Isaiah, there are therefore two types of wisdom: human and divine. Both types of wisdom are ultimately attempts at salvation. [14] There is the human ‘wisdom’ of the nations (ethne, cf 1 Cor 1:23): their rulers (Isa 10:12-14, archontes 19:11 cf 1 Cor 2:6) and their advisers (sophoi, Isa 19:11-12), which will be brought to nothing (cf 1 Cor 1:20). There is also the human ‘wisdom’ of those within Israel who recommend trust in foreign rulers, the advisers (sophoi and sunetoi Isa 29:14, 1 Cor 1:19) and scribes (grammatikoi, Isa 33:18); [15] this, too, will be brought to nothing (1 Cor 1:19-20), for they are, in fact, oppressive enemies of the Messiah and God’s people. [16] Perhaps Paul’s intention in his series of three questions in 1 Cor 1:20 is to identify the debater of his own era of salvation-history (suzetetes tou aionos toutou) with these ‘wise’ enemies from Isaiah’s time. Aligning one’s self only with a human preacher is, in fact, a disastrous human attempt at salvation. [17]

Divine wisdom is also on show in Isaiah. There is a messianic figure introduced in 11:1, a ‘shoot from the stump of Jesse’, whose first characteristic is that the Spirit of wisdom, understanding, counsel and might will rest upon him (cf 1 Cor 2:10). [18] Even though the ‘wise’ in Israel were blind and deaf (Isa 28:7, 12; 29:9-14; 30:9-11; 33:18), when Israel is restored and her righteous king reappears, the blind and deaf will see and hear again (Isa 29:18, 30:20-22, 32:1-5, 33:17-22). [19] This king will put into effect God’s plan of salvation, which is independent of human wisdom (Isa 40:13-14, quoted in 1 Cor 2:16). But, significantly, this salvific plan will come about in a strange and marvellous way. A suffering servant will come, and will suffer vicariously as a sacrifice for the sins of the people. This servant shall be wise (sunesei, Isa 52:13), and by his knowledge (sunesei) he will justify many (Isa 53:11). In this way, he will silence and amaze the rulers of the nations (Isa 52:15, alluded to in 1 Cor 2:9). [20] So the eschatological judgment, salvation and vindication of those who wait patiently for God is an amazing, unheard-of, unimaginable act of God’s wisdom (Isa 64:6, cf 1 Cor 2:9).

Von Rad is surely right to see an eschatological development of the Wisdom motif in the Jewish apocalyptic literature (including Daniel). [21] The apocalyptic hiddenness of God’s wisdom, which must be revealed in dreams to the apocalyptic seer, is a theme of Daniel, especially 2:19-23 which contains many of the themes in 1 Cor 2:6-11. [22] The Messiah, disguised to those who are not God’s people, is the chief figure of salvation. [23] The rulers of this age in Daniel are human kingdoms; in Paul they are human authorities. [24] In Daniel, the mature (cf 1 Cor 2:6) are those who look towards the endpoint of God’s plan, the outcome of the conflict between human kingdoms and God’s kingdom. [25] Paul has combined two strong apocalyptic motifs: special revelation to the apocalyptic seer, and the fact that historical events are the carrying out of God’s powerful plan. [26]

Space forbids an exploration of Paul’s use of numerous other Scriptural quotations and allusions in 1 Corinthians 1-4. In 1:31, he quotes from Jeremiah 9:23-24, which has similar themes to those in Isaiah. In 3:19-20, he quotes from Israel’s wisdom literature itself (Job 5:13 and a ‘wisdom’ Psalm 94:11) to show the supremacy of God’s wisdom over human wisdom. These Scriptural references combine with those from Isaiah and Daniel to give the unmistakable impression that Scripture, interpreted in the light of the cross of the suffering servant / Messiah Jesus Christ, is necessary and sufficient to understand how Christians should think and act in the present age (4:6).

The ‘wisdom’ that discerns this world order is different, and even opposed, to the God-given wisdom that discerns God’s new world order. Thus human ‘power’ in speech and factionalism is the antithesis of God’s new world order, brought about by the cross. In this new world order, one cannot say ‘“I am of Paul”, or “I am of Apollos”, or “I am of Cephas”, or [even] “I am of Christ”’ in the style of factions (1:12). Instead, God’s wisdom, supremely demonstrated in the death and resurrection of the Suffering Servant, has turned the times and powers and authorities upside down and placed them all in submission to Christ and his people. Hence, ‘everything is of you: whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or things present or things to come; everything is of you; and you are of Christ; and Christ is of God.’ (3:21-23). This is the wisdom of God; the wisdom of the cross.

Sermon structure

First, I raised the issue of wisdom in the concrete situation of my friend who were going as missionaries to Malaysia (I’ve called them X & Y)

I went for a quick biblical definition of wisdom, trying to capture the scope of the OT concept.

Now some context from 1 Corinthians, with a little explanation of what I thought was the historical background (see below, although my application is not absolutely tied to this theory).

Then I tried to broaden the application

Then I introduced Paul’s discussion of wisdom in the context of the cross

I then looked back at Isaiah 52-53, which speaks about the ministry of the Suffering Servant in terms of ‘wisdom’

Then an explanation of how this is seen to be foolish by the world

I followed with a description of how tough it is to be a minister in Malaysia (see introduction, above)

Then I tried to apply this wisdom to the hearers. I was not trying to work out how their situation was exactly the same as the historical situation of the Corinthians (e.g. avoid disunity; don’t be a Gnostic, etc.). Rather, I was trying to help them apply the ‘cross-shaped’ wisdom from God to their current situation—whatever it was.

A discussion of the resources I used

While it is difficult to pin down exactly what the situation in Corinth was, there is a wealth of material out there to help, and we can have some degree of confidence in the results. The following discussion should be treated as an appendix to this Biblical Theology Briefing.

Older solutions to the problem of the historical situation at Corinth proposed that Paul was aiming to counter a form of Gnosticism or proto-Gnosticism. Horsley, for example, argues that Paul is facing a teaching based on the Jewish wisdom tradition that believes in a spiritual salvific power called Sophia. [27] Eloquence was an important element of this tradition (especially in Philo), even though empty Sophistry was rejected. [28] Hence ‘words of wisdom’ (1:17, 2:1, 2:4) are eloquent words imparted by Sophia. [29] The eloquent Apollos had not helped matters. ‘Through [his] ministry some of the Corinthians apparently had come to regard the (Christian) gospel as wisdom, the leaders as teachers of wisdom, themselves as wise’. [30] However, Paul does not want to be viewed as a wisdom teacher, because he is concerned with Christ crucified, not eloquence (1:17-18). His solution is to take Gnostic language and turn it on its head. So, for example, in 2:6, when Paul says that he speaks wisdom among the ‘mature’ (teleioi), he is using a Gnostic term that means spiritually advanced souls, but ironically referring to those who listen to his gospel message. Conversely, he refers to the Corinthians using the Gnostic terminology for less advanced souls, ‘infants’ (nepioi, 3:1). [31]

Kovacs rejects this theory, because it has to assume that Paul got too carried away with his Gnostic parody to the point of sounding Gnostic himself. [32] For Kovacs, 1 Cor 2:6-16 is Paul’s own apocalyptic interpretation of the death of Christ, not a parody of hidden Gnostic wisdom. The ‘cross’ is the key to the passage, not the idea of ‘the mature’. [33] Thus

The core problem, according to Kovacs, is not Gnosticism but a wrong eschatology which is countered by the proclamation of the cross of Christ (as we have seen already from Isaiah).

Another, related, set of solutions to the puzzle stems from the hypothesis (given great impetus by F. C. Baur in the nineteenth century) that one can discern a fundamental division between followers of a Jewish, Law-based, Petrine Christianity and those of a Hellenic, Law-free, Pauline Christianity. [35] Grayson, for example, posits that the Cephas/Christ party was treating the words of the historical Jesus (logos) as a new Torah (nomos). They were basing wisdom (sophia) upon it, and rejecting Paul and Apollos whose teaching centred on the liberating freedom that comes through the preaching of the cross. But for Paul, wisdom is not based on Jesus’ instructions (1:17, ouk en sophia logou) but on the proclamation of the cross (1:18). [36] Davis’ thesis is similar, but identifies logos directly with the law. Documents from the Jewish wisdom tradition (Ben Sirach, Qumran, Philo) show a common theme: wisdom is identified with Torah, is only available to certain elite groups via the Spirit, and is associated with eloquence. [37] Davis detects an argument against this ‘nomistic’ wisdom in 1 Corinthians. It has been superseded by an entirely new Christological wisdom, for the judgment of the law has fallen on Christ. [38] Schnabel, too, sees the ‘wisdom’ in Corinth through a Hellenistic Jewish sapiental matrix, which relativises the cross of Christ, strips it of its uniqueness and so empties it of its effectiveness (1:17). [39]

There are a number of problems with this reconstruction. Firstly, although logos could possibly be taken to mean instructions from the Torah or Jesus, its cognate verb lego is applied to a variety of speech acts, even to the words of those who follow Paul and Apollos (1:10, 12, 15; 3:4). Secondly, it is difficult to detect any direct diatribe from Paul against law-based Christianity. The vocabulary he uses elsewhere to denigrate reliance on the law (such as ‘law’ and ‘works’, Gal 2:16; 3:2, 5, 10; Rom 3:20, 27-28) is completely absent from 1 Corinthians 1-4. Later in the epistle, when he does refer to nomos, he draws positive ethical applications (9:8, 9; 14:21, 34). Finally, the reconstruction requires a ‘hidden agenda’ on Paul’s part, for he does not attack Peter (Cephas) as he does in Galatians 2:11-16. Rather, he picks up on the name Apollos (3:4-6). Goulder, who seeks to defend this view, argues that Paul used Apollos as an ‘easy example’ of unity and left the Corinthians to draw their own conclusions about Cephas (3:22). [40] However, as Tuckett observes, Goulder’s extensive thesis breaks down under the weight of complexity. Again, it is much simpler to see a wrong eschatology as the Corinthians’ problem, and to take Paul’s critiques at face value. [41]

Ker and Smit take Paul’s discussion of Apollos seriously, and believe that the primary problem in Corinth was that adherents of Apollos were undermining Paul’s authority. [42] Smit believes that Paul’s founding visit was being criticised for lack of philosophical finesse (2:1, 3; 3:1-2); Apollos was the logical, philosophical one (Acts 18:24, an aner logios); his adherents loved his wisdom based on human reason (sophia logou, 1:17). Paul’s gospel, however, was denigrated because it was one of paradox (1:18-31) and hiddenness (2:6-16). [43] Ker believes that Paul ultimately favours the ‘Paul party’ (1:12). [44] Smit is more balanced—Paul is at pains to express both the unity (3:5, 7-9, 22) and the right order between himself as founding father and Apollos as guardian and waterer (3:6, 10; 4:14-15). [45] However, both agree that in a volatile situation, Paul cannot assert his fatherly authority outright. He must be covert and indirect. [46] Paul thus employs a wordplay which subtly compares Apollos’ adherents (APOLLO, 1:12) to those who are perishing (APOLLUMENOIS, 1:18) and the wisdom that God will destroy (APOLO, 1:19). [47] His subsequent references to two types of ‘wisdom’ are then references to the human wisdom of Apollos’ adherents (1:20-22; 2:1, 4-5, 13; 3:19) and the paradoxical wisdom of Paul’s proclamation of the cross (1:21, 24, 30; 2:6-7).

Unfortunately, this solution also suffers from a tendency to subvert the plain meaning of the text: ‘[a]t one level of reading the text there is no problem [. . .] But there are other possibilities’. [48] One wonders if Ker and Smit should have taken more seriously the saying ‘not beyond what is written’ (4:6) in their own reading of Paul! Apollos is never denigrated by Paul; he is simply given his rightful position, united in purpose and distinct in role (3:6-9). Apollos is Paul’s ‘brother’ (16:12), which is a characteristic term of warmth and Christian unity (1:1, 10-11, 26; 2:1; 3:1; 4:6; 5:11; 6:5-6, 8; 7:12, 15, 24, 29; 8:11-13; 9:5; 10:1; 11:33; 12:1; 14:6, 20, 26, 39; 15:1, 6, 31, 50, 58; 16:11-12, 15, 20) despite Ker’s plea that this verse sounds a bit chilly. [49] On the contrary, Paul’s own self-denigration is intriguing (1:13-16; 3:4-5, 22; 4:1). Elsewhere, Paul is not afraid to openly command allegiance to his own teaching and put others’ down, even in the face of opposition (Gal 1:6-9, 2:11, 5:10-12, 6:12-13; Phil 3:2; 2 Cor 11:4, 13-15). But here, he distances himself from such allegiance. Something else is going on. [50]

There is evidence that we should take the plural schismata (1:10) and the mention of four names (1:12) at face value and admit more than one fault line in the Corinthian community. There are places where Paul admits distinction between himself and other authorities, but deliberately closes off any suggestion of division. For example, he admits the existence of two sources of teaching: ‘the Lord’s’ (7:10, cf. 7:25) and his own (7:12, 25), but then goes on to assert their complementarity (7:35) and equal authority (7:40). He also admits two sorts of post-resurrection appearance of Christ: that to Cephas then others (15:5-7), and that to himself ‘as to one abnormally born’ (15:8), but then goes on to assert that the resulting proclamation and belief is the same in either case (15:11). It would be too much to claim definitively that these are the respective issues behind the ‘Christ’ and ‘Cephas’ parties (1:12), but it does show the existence of other divisions undermines the identification of a wisdom-loving ‘Apollos party’ as the sole source of division.

We might seek for an answer in 4:6, where Paul himself explains the procedure (meteschematisa) and purpose (hina [. . .] hina) of his previous discussion (tauta). Unfortunately, this verse has proved notoriously difficult! [51] The possible use of a well-known rhetorical device called logos eschematismenos ‘figure of speech’, or ‘covert allusion’ has been noted, [52] apparently providing a license for us to read between the lines in the previous discussion (as many have done). However, if it is such a device, Paul is not using it in the traditional way—by naming it its covert nature is nullified! [53] Also, the word is not schematizo but metaschematizo which in all its other occurrences means either ‘transform the shape’ or ‘disguise’. If it meant ‘covert allusion’, then this would be unique. [54] I prefer to translate literally, ‘I have transformed the shape’ of the previous discussion. That is, Paul has transformed a discussion of schismata in general (1:10-3:3) to focus on a particular schisma—a fault line between Paul’s and Apollos’ complementary ministries (3:4-17)—and then widened the discussion again to schismata in general (3:18-23), applying it to the issue of how to view any leader—as a servant of Christ, not a hero to be examined or applauded (4:1-5). In this way, nobody may be puffed up on account of any particular leaders against any other (4:6).

Other solutions see the very existence of schismata as the root problem in Corinth. Welborn downplays doctrinal differences in favour of a sociological model based on conflicts in Greco-Roman city-states. [55] His analysis is based on a comparison of Paul’s terminology with that used by Greco-Roman historians. Paul’s goal is not the refutation of heresy, but the prevention of stasis (strife, discord, uprising or rebellion). [56] 1:10 is ‘a mere call to consensus [. . .] hence his use of katartizein’. [57] In 1:20, the ‘debater’ (suzetetes) is the clever ‘rhetor’ who creates discord in the Greek city state. [58] ‘Wisdom’ is a claim by the rhetors to possess higher knowledge, which led to an elitism that reflected itself in political struggles. Paul had to claim wisdom for himself in order to regain his position as teacher and guide, so that he could call for an end to the factions (2:6-16). [59] Welborn’s study is a helpful reminder that human politics cannot be separated from theological disputes, but he is too quick to dismiss any possibility that the problem is more than sociological. In 1:20, he notes that the use of ‘wise man’ and ‘scribe’ from the ot background. However, it is only the third term, ‘debater’ (suzetetes), that has any significance for Welborn, apparently proving that ‘[t]he sophia which Paul fears will undermine the community is nothing other than rhetoric’. [60] Welborn also notes a theological move by Paul: ‘The strife of the factions is no petty quarrel [. . .] but a mirror of the cosmic conflict between the rulers of this age and the power of God.’ [61] However, Welborn is not impressed by this ‘eschatological gesture’ which masks ‘the reality of political conflict.’ [62]

Pogoloff and Winter have provided a more convincing model for the situation at Corinth, following the patterns of Greco-Roman rhetorical / sophistic rivalries. Pogoloff argues that sophia logou (1:17) means ‘cultured speech’. [63] The wisdom that Paul is opposing is rhetorical skill, which was seen as the possession of certain individuals who formed cult followings. Paul and Apollos, among others, had therefore become foci of divisive rivalries over status. This had theological implications: ‘rhetoric enhanced by practical skills’ empties the cross because it stops the cross from being an act of pure grace that any social class can access.

Winter provides a more comprehensive picture of first century sophistry, and argues that Paul’s discussion of wisdom is a point-by-point refutation of aspects of sophistic behaviour. Possibly Apollos’ own use of rhetoric at Corinth had incited sophist-style factionalism. [64] Sophists (sophistai), when they came, announced their own renown, extemporised, and used rhetoric with great flair.[65] They inspired a particular commitment and zeal for themselves amongst their disciples. [66] The terms zelos and eris (1:11, 3:3) are terms for Sophistic discipleship, also used by Philo to oppose Sophists’ love of form over content. [67] But Paul turns all the sophistic and rhetorical terminology on its head. [68] He needed no ‘topic’ to extemporise upon and so prove his rhetorical superiority (2:1); he had a message already to proclaim (2:2). He had no renown, but used weak, afraid, trembling oratory (2:3). He inspired confidence (pistis, 2:5), not by the ‘power’ (dunamis, 2:5) of ‘persuasion’ (peitho, 2:4) or rhetorical skill, but by the ‘clear proof’ (apodeixis) of the work of the Spirit in the listeners (2:4). He reverses the pattern of sophistic boasting (3:18-23) [69] and urges the Corinthians to ‘imitate’ him and ‘boast’ in him (as the Sophists did their leaders)—but in sufferings and afflictions, in the way of the cross (4:6-21). [70] Rhetoric would empty the cross (1:17) because sophistic methods would overshadow the message itself. [71]

The picture of sophistic-style factionalism at Corinth is a convincing one, but it should be noted that Paul is not just dissociating himself from a sophistic valuing of form over content. [72] For ‘in the mind of the first-century Graeco-Roman listener, education and eloquence were bound together’. [73] Hellenistic Jews, too, would agree that ‘by speech (logos) shall wisdom (sophia) be known’ (Sir 4:24). Rather, Paul is arguing against the whole worldview (sophia) expressed by the speech pattern (logos) of sophistry; a worldview that exalts human power in both form and content. The cross is the power of salvation that appears as weakness, and the speech pattern (logos) of the cross therefore takes a cruciform shape. [74] In order to nullify any human attempt at self-salvation, God ‘chose a means of revelation actually contradictory to [human] wisdom—the foolish proclamation of a crucified Savior (1:21b).’ [75] Instead of explaining human logic by human means, in 2:13 he explains spiritual things (pneumatika) by spiritual means (pneumatikois). Therefore, the truth of the cross ‘cannot be achieved through the best of human intellect and strength but must be received as a gift in the humble submission of faith and trust.’ [76] In fact, Paul’s own writing is highly rhetorical, but its rhetoric subverts sophistic speech and therefore sophistic wisdom. [77]

The existence of sophistic factions, therefore, is a spiritual, theological problem in and of itself. It is not just that the Sophistic divisions were in danger of falsifying Paul’s doctrine by their potential for men to rely on rhetorical skill rather than the gospel message. [78] Grindheim explains this theological problem in terms of the mysterious and irresolvable ‘paradox’ between human wisdom and God’s gospel. The gospel is all about the reversal of values, and must therefore be received in the paradox of Christ crucified by those who abandon attempts to excel by worldly standards. [79] Grindheim rejects any notions of redemptive history in Paul’s account. [80] However, redemptive history is hard to escape in 2:7-8: God’s wisdom is described as ‘predetermined before the ages’; and God’s purpose in hiding it is to ensure that a specific historical event (the crucifixion of the Lord of Glory by the rulers of this age) takes place. The connection between the sophistic factions and wisdom must be explained in terms of redemptive history and eschatology, as we have already alluded to above. [81] This connection can be seen much more clearly when we examine Paul’s use of the ot Scriptures. In fact, as we have seen, 1 Corinthians presents a Scriptural answer to sophistic factionalism.

ENDNOTES

[1] Joop F. M. Smit, ‘“What Is Apollos? What Is Paul?”: in Search for the Coherence of First Corinthians 1:10-4:21’, Novum Testamentum 44/3 (2002): 231-51.
[2] E. J. Schnabel, ‘Wisdom’, in Dictionary of Paul and His Letters: A Compendium of Contemporary Biblical Scholarship (ed. Gerald F. Hawthorne, Ralph P. Martin & Daniel G. Reid; Downers Grove: IVP, 1993), 967-68.
[3] Charles K. Barrett, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (2nd ed.; Black’s New Testament Commentaries; London: A & C Black, 1971), 53.
[4] Barrett, First Corinthians, 56.
[5] Martin Hengel, Crucifixion: In the Ancient World and the Folly of the Message of the Cross. (trans. John Bowden; London: SCM, 1977), esp. 86-90.
[6] Daniel B. Wallace, Greek Grammar beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996), 576.
[7] Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 351-56.
[8] H. H. Drake Williams, The Wisdom of the Wise: The Presence and Function of Scripture within 1 Cor 1:18-3:23 (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 335-36.
[9] Williams, Scripture, 337.
[10] B. J. Oropeza, ‘Echoes of Isaiah in the Rhetoric of Paul: New Exodus, Wisdom and the Humility of the Cross in Utopian-Apocalyptic Expectations’, in The Intertexture of Apocalyptic Discourse in the New Testament (ed. Duane F. Watson; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2002), 89.
[11] Oropeza, ‘Echoes of Isaiah’, 90, 103.
[12] Barry Webb, The Message of Isaiah (The Bible Speaks Today; Leicester: IVP, 1996), 30-31.
[13] Webb, Isaiah, 30-33.
[14] Williams, Scripture, 88-100.
[15] Oropeza, ‘Echoes of Isaiah’, 97-98.
[16] Williams, Scripture, 88-100.
[17] Bruce W. Winter, Philo and Paul among the Sophists: Alexandrian and Corinthian Responses to a Julio-Claudian Movement (2nd ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 189.
[18] Oropeza, ‘Echoes of Isaiah’, 98.
[19] Oropeza, ‘Echoes of Isaiah’, 98.
[20] Williams, Scripture, 159-65 fails to pick up this allusion.
[21] Gerhard von Rad, Old Testament Theology Volume II: The Theology of Israel’s Prophetic Traditions (trans. D. M. G. Stalker; San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1965), II.306-15. He oversteps the mark, however, by severing the connection between the prophetic and apocalyptic literature.
[22] Williams, Scripture, 157-208.
[23] Williams, Scripture, 203-4.
[24] Williams, Scripture, 204-5.
[25] Williams, Scripture, 205-7.
[26] Judith L. Kovacs, ‘The Archons, the Spirit and the Death of Christ: do we Need the Hypothesis of Gnostic Opponents to Explain 1 Cor. 2:6-16?’, in Apocalyptic and the New Testament: Essays in Honor of J. Louis Martyn (ed. Joel Marcus and Marion L. Soards; Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series 24; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1989), 228
[27] Richard A. Horsley, ‘Wisdom of Word and Words of Wisdom in Corinth’, Catholic Biblical Quarterly 39/2 (1977): 224-39.
[28] Horsley, ‘Wisdom of Word and Words of Wisdom’, 225-29.
[29] Horsley, ‘Wisdom of Word and Words of Wisdom’, 231.
[30] Horsley, ‘Wisdom of Word and Words of Wisdom’, 232.
[31] Horsley, ‘Wisdom of Word and Words of Wisdom’, 232-34.
[32] Kovacs, ‘Gnostic Opponents?’, 217-18.
[33] Kovacs, ‘Gnostic Opponents?’, 218.
[34] Kovacs, ‘Gnostic Opponents?’, 219.
[35] James A. Davis, Wisdom and Spirit: An Investigation of 1 Corinthians 1:18-3:20 Against the Background of Jewish Sapiental Traditions in the Greco-Roman Period (Lanham: University Press of America, 1984), 141.
[36] K. Grayston, ‘Not with a Rod’, The Expository Times 88/1 (1976): 13-16.
[37] Davis, Wisdom and Spirit, 9-62.
[38] Davis, Wisdom and Spirit, 141-48.
[39] Schnabel, ‘Wisdom’, 969.
[40] Michael D. Goulder, ‘SOPHIA in 1 Corinthians’, New Testament Studies 37/4 (1991): 516-34., 516-34.
[41] Christopher Tuckett, ‘Jewish Christian Wisdom in 1 Corinthians?’, in Crossing the Boundaries: Essays in Biblical Interpretation in Honour of Michael D. Goulder (ed. Stanley E. Porter, Paul Joyce and David E. Orton; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994), 201-19.
[42] Donald P. Ker, ‘Paul and Apollos: Colleagues or Rivals?’, Journal for the Study of the New Testament 77 (2000): 75-97; Smit, ‘Coherence’, 241-43, 246-47.
[43] Smit, ‘Coherence’, 244-47.
[44] Ker, ‘Paul and Apollos’, 79.
[45] Smit, ‘Coherence’, 241-43.
[46] Ker, ‘Paul and Apollos’, 84; Smit, ‘Coherence’, 242-43.
[47] Smit, ‘Coherence’, 243.
[48] Ker, ‘Paul and Apollos’, 75.
[49] Ker, ‘Paul and Apollos’, 94-96.
[50] Stephen M. Pogoloff, Logos and Sophia: The Rhetorical Situation of 1 Corinthians (SBL Dissertation Series 134; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992), 99-100.
[51] Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 349-51.
[52] Benjamin Fiore, ‘“Covert Allusion” in 1 Corinthians 1-4’, Catholic Biblical Quarterly 47/1 (1985): 85-102; Bruce W. Winter, Philo and Paul among the Sophists: Alexandrian and Corinthian Responses to a Julio-Claudian Movement (2nd ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 196-97.
[53] Fiore, ‘Covert Allusion’, 95.
[54] F. Danker, ‘metaschematizo’, BDAG 641-42.
[55] L. L. Welborn, ‘On the Discord in Corinth: 1 Corinthians 1-4 and Ancient Politics’, Journal of Biblical Literature 106/1 (1987): 86.
[56] Welborn, ‘Discord in Corinth’, 89-90.
[57] Winter, Sophists, 181.
[58] Welborn, ‘Discord in Corinth’, 102.
[59] Welborn, ‘Discord in Corinth’, 103-6.
[60] Welborn, ‘Discord in Corinth’, 102.
[61] Welborn, ‘Discord in Corinth’, 109.
[62] Welborn, ‘Discord in Corinth’, 110.
[63] Pogoloff, Logos and Sophia, 99-127.
[64] Winter, Sophists, 177-78.
[65] Winter, Sophists, 144-47.
[66] Winter, Sophists, 185-87.
[67] Winter, Sophists, 175-76.
[68] Winter, Sophists, 149-50.
[69] Winter, Sophists, 195-96.
[70] Winter, Sophists, 195-202.
[71] Winter, Sophists, 188.
[72] contra Winter, Sophists, 188.
[73] Ker, ‘Paul and Apollos’, 77.
[74] Thiselton, First Corinthians, 157.
[75] John B. Polhill, ‘The Wisdom of God and Factionalism’, Review and Expositor 80/3 (1983): 329.
[76] Polhill, ‘Factionalism’, 330.
[77] Smit, ‘Coherence’, 247.
[78] contra Winter, Sophists, 188.
[79] Sigurd Grindheim, ‘Wisdom for the Perfect: Paul’s Challenge to the Corinthian Church (1 Corinthians 2:6-16)’, Journal of Biblical Literature 121/4 (2002): 689-709.
[80] Grindheim, ‘Wisdom for the Perfect’, 698-99.
[81] Kovacs, ‘Gnostic Opponents?’, 219; Tuckett, ‘Jewish Christian Wisdom?’, 201-19;

(This post is part of a series. See here for an introduction to the series.)

Exodus-Deuteronomy describes the two-fold outworking of the covenants with Abraham in the life of Abraham’s national “seed”: Israel. The numerical growth of Israel (Exod 1:6–10), their deliverance from Egypt and the subsequent capture of Canaan fulfils the promise of “nationhood” held out in the unilateral covenant of Genesis 15 (esp. Gen 15:13–14, 18–21).[1] Through Moses, God brings his newborn nation to Sinai (Exod 19:4, cf. Gen 15:14) and makes a bilateral covenant with them (Exod 19:5–6, cf Gen 17:1–2). As with Abraham, Israel is obliged to obey God’s voice (Exod 19:5, cf. Gen 22:18) and keep his covenant (Exod 19:5. cf. Gen 17:9). If they do this, then they, like Abraham, will be a source of international blessing: they will be a special possession, a kingdom of priests, and a holy nation, for the sake of the whole earth which is God’s possession (Exod 19:5b–6a, cf. Gen 17:4–5, 16, 18:18–19). The subsequent chapters show that the content of the covenant is, in fact, various laws and rules whose primary intention appears to be to reveal the character of God to the surrounding nations (Exod 20–23).[2] The covenant is ratified with a solemn oath of allegiance and a blood-throwing rite (Exod 24:3–8), followed by a covenant meal (Exod 24:9–11).[3]

But even at her very foundation, Israel is tragically bereft of the requisite loyalty and obedience displayed by Abraham (cf. Gen 17:1, 22:15–18). This is seen graphically in the national apostasy during the golden calf episode (Exod 32–33), where “[e]ven as Moses is receiving the covenant stipulations, the Israelites are breaking them”.[4] The people have broken God’s covenant, so Moses breaks the written record of that covenant (Exod 32:19).[5] The “disastrous word” (Exod 33:4), therefore, is that although God will fulfil his unilateral covenant to give them the land (Exod 33:1–2, cf. Gen 15), God himself will not go with them to be their God, because the covenant of Genesis 17 has been broken (Exod 33:3, cf. Gen 17:7–8).

It is at this point that Moses steps in as the mediator of the covenant. Moses is one with whom God meets face to face, separate from Israel (Exod 33:7–11).  In contrast to the rest of the nation, Moses is a “seed” of Abraham through whom God could re-establish his covenant—he has found favour in God’s eyes and God knows him by name (Exod 33:12). But Moses pleads to God in favour of the nation (Exod 33:13). He reasons that God’s purpose of international blessing will not come about unless God actually goes with this nation (Exod 33:16, cf. Exod 32:11–13). God agrees, because Moses has indeed found favour in his sight (Exod 33:17). So the covenant with Israel is renewed; new tablets are carved in stone and the law is reiterated (Exod 34:10–26).[6] However, the renewed covenant with Israel is an indirect, mediated relationship, contingent upon God’s gracious relationship with Moses (Exod 34:10). God’s covenant with Israel is now based upon his relationship with Moses: “I have made a covenant with you, and with Israel” (כָּרַתִּי אִתְּךָ בְּרִית וְאֶת־יִשְׂרָאֵל) (Exod 34:27). Moses has a direct experience of God’s glory (Exod 34:29)—that is, his compassionate and gracious nature (Exod 33:18–19)—but God’s glory is veiled to Israel (Exod 34:33–35).[7]

It appears that this implicit “covenant of mediation” with Moses was inherited by the Levitical priesthood. In the Sinai narrative, the Levites provided the bloody sacrifice of atonement that turned away God’s wrath from his people between the Golden Calf apostasy and Moses’ intercession with God, and so they were “ordained” for service and blessing (Exod 32:25–29, cf. Exod 32:30). Later, Phinehas received a “covenant of peace” for providing atonement in the same way (Num 25:11–13), which is probably a special case of the Levitical covenant.[8] Later prophets can refer to this covenant of mediation as “the covenant of the priesthood and the Levites” (Neh 13:28), “my covenant with the Levitical priests my ministers” (Jer 33:21), and “my covenant with Levi” (Mal 2:4).[9] From the context of this last quotation, we may infer that the obligations of the “covenant with Levi” involved offering sacrifices (Mal 1) and teaching the law (e.g. Mal 2:7).

The Golden Calf incident highlights the dark underside of the covenantal relationship between God and Israel. If the covenant with Israel was intended to bring blessing to all the families of the earth (אְַדָמָה, Gen 12:3), we must not forget that what originally prompted the need for this covenant in the first place was the pre-covenantal curse (ארר) brought on by Adam’s sin (Gen 3:17). Under this curse, all humanity (אָדָם) must return to the earth (אְַדָמָה) in death (Gen 3:19). Thus Israel’s failure to bring blessing through obedience naturally brought home to them in a special way the general curse on humanity for disobedience (Exod 32:33–35).[10] The atoning priestly ministry prevented total destruction of the nation. However, Deuteronomy warned of the day when the sin of the people with whom God had made the covenant would be reckoned. The nation itself was instructed to proclaim the covenant curses, climaxing with the great covenantal curse: “Cursed (אָרוּר) be anyone who does not confirm the words of this law by doing them” (Deut 27:26). A number of significant passages in Deuteronomy point to Israel’s inability to be a faithful covenant partner (1:26–46, chs. 9–10, 11:26–32, ch. 28). Deuteronomy finally predicts the curse of the exile, followed by a future restoration on the horizon (Deut 29–30).[11]

[2] Williamson, “Covenant”, 150–51 (151).

[3] Williamson, “Covenant”, 151.

[4] Williamson, “Covenant”, 152.

[5] Weinfeld, TDOT 2:276.

[6] Weinfeld, TDOT 2:276.

[7] William J. Dumbrell, The End of the Beginning: Revelation 21–22 and the Old Testament (Moore Theological College Lectures 1983; Homebush West, NSW, Australia: Lancer, 1985), 109.

[8] Williamson, “Covenant”, 152.

[9] Williamson, “Covenant”, 152.

[10] Williamson, “Covenant”, 152.

[11] J. Gordon McConville, Grace in the End: A Study in Deuteronomic Theology (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1993), 133–39.

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What is the most polite way to refer to an old person? Have you noticed how the words we collectively use to refer to old people in the media and in private conversation keep changing? It’s a strange process. We start using a word or phrase, for example, ‘old man’, ‘old woman’. After a while, we decide that this phrase is really a little derogatory, and so we change to another, more neutral phrase, such as ‘senior citizen’. But after a while, ‘senior citizen’ sounds condescending and slightly offensive. So we try another, more neutral, word—like ‘elderly’. But the same thing happens: after we use the word ‘elderly’ for a while, it starts to sound a bit insulting. So we try ‘aged’. Then ‘ageing’. And so on. The reason this keeps happening is that our underlying concept of ageing itself is negative. It doesn’t matter what word we choose to express it; that word will start to take on the negative connotations that we associate with the underlying concept.

Ageing, for us, is a terrible thing. Nobody wants to be old. We have created an entire cosmetic industry dedicated to covering up the disastrous effects of ageing. We don’t want to be look old because we don’t want to be old. Why are we so negative about ageing? It’s because ageing represents the opposite of our core values. We live in a society that puts a huge value on freedom, choice, fulfilment of desires, strength and independence. All these values are far more obtainable by the young than by the old. Increasing age means diminishing freedom, limited choice, lower potential for fulfilment, increasing weakness and growing dependence.

Furthermore, we believe that old people actually limit the potential of the young people around them. Old people are a ‘burden’, a challenge, an increasing demand on an economy that is ‘driven’ by the young. Or at least, this is the way we often talk about ageing.

What light does the gospel of Jesus Christ shed on ageing? The doctrine of creation remind us that God has created a good and ordered world for humans to rule under his loving oversight. Old people, by virtue of their greater experience in this world, have invaluable wisdom to offer the young. Young people need the presence, experience and wisdom of godly old people in our communities, in our homes (e.g. Prov 23:22) and in our churches (e.g. Titus 1:5, 2:3). Old people are not a burden. In fact, we can’t do without them.

Nevertheless, ageing is a reminder that our world is under a curse. The increasing weakness, futility and numbness of old age (Eccl 12:1-6) is merely the forerunner to death (Eccl 12:7), which all stems from God’s judgement for our rebellion against him (Gen 3:19). The debilitating effects of ageing remind us that there is something terribly wrong with our world and our relationship with God, and that should make us turn to him for salvation.

The fact that Jesus came as a servant to die as a ransom for our sins and to help those who cannot help themselves (Mark 10:45 , Romans 5:6) teaches us that God cares for the weak, the feeble, the vulnerable. Following the crucified saviour means caring for those who need our care (Mark 10:43-44, Phil 2:4-11), including the aged among us (1 Tim 5:8). We all need to acknowledge the great value of aged care, and support those individuals and professionals who care for old people.

The resurrection of Jesus Christ shows us that mortality, frailty and death are not God’s final plan for humanity. Jesus’ body didn’t see decay (Acts 13:37); likewise, all those who trust in him look forward to receiving renewed, immortal bodies from God (1 Cor 15:42-44). In Christ, old people, as much as young people, are created in the image of an imperishable, immortal saviour (1 Cor 15:49) and share equally in that massive potential for freedom, glory and fulfilment in the new creation.

But the gospel demands faith and repentance. Do we trust in God’s promises enough to also entrust him with our fears and anxieties about our own ageing? Do we need to change our attitudes and our actions so that we properly value and love the old people in our midst?

(This post is part of a series. See here for an introduction to the series.)

We’ve seen the way that Genesis 12-22 describes two distinct but related covenants. God gives Abraham a two-fold set of promises involving, firstly, nationhood (land and seed, inheritance and heir, Gen 12:1–2c) and, secondly, international blessing (Gen 12:2d–3). Abraham’s faith in the promise of seed (Gen 15:6) is the basis for a covenantal commitment by God to give the land to Abraham (Gen 15:7–21). Abraham’s loyalty (Gen 17:1), displayed in his willingness to trust God even to the point of sacrificing the seed of the promise, is the basis for a covenantal commitment by God to bless all nations through Abraham and his great, numerous seed (Gen 17, Gen 22:15–18). Abraham’s children after him must also follow in the footsteps of Abraham’s faith and loyalty in order for international blessing to be accomplished (Gen 18:18–19).[1] The constantly recurring question in the whole of Genesis-Kings is the question of the identity of the “seed” who will mediate international blessing, especially in the light of the recurring failure of the majority of Abraham’s physical descendants (e.g. 2 Kgs 17:20, “And Yahweh rejected the whole seed of Israel”).[2] The focus narrows down onto a “royal” seed, one from the line of David, for whom God will establish an “everlasting kingdom” (2 Sam 7).

God’s command for Abraham and his descendants to be circumcised occurs in the description of the second of these covenants (Genesis 17).

Circumcision itself is not a major feature in the Old Testament; it is assumed as an obligation for Abraham’s descendants and those in their household (Gen 21:1–4; 34:13–30; Exod 12:48; Lev 12:3; Josh 5:1–9, cf. Judg 14:3, 15:18; 1 Sam 14:6, 17:26, 17:36, 31:4; 2 Sam 1:20; 1 Chr 10:4; Isa 52:1; Ezek 28:10, 31:18, 32:19–32, 44:7–9), required to avoid curse and death (Exod 4:22–26), often internalized (Exod 6:12; Lev 26:40–43; Deut 10:16; Deut 30:5–6; Jer 4:4, 6:10, 9:25–26; Hab 2:16), but seldom explained. Yet Paul deals with circumcision with some frequency and at some length (Rom 2:25–29, 3:1, 3:30, 4:9–12, 15:8; 1 Cor 7:18–19; Gal 2, 5, 6; Eph 2:11; Phil 3:3–5; Col 2:11–13, 3:11, 4:11; Tit 1:10). How is the “covenant” of circumcision in Genesis 17 related to the covenant of international blessing described in the rest of the chapter? Some would see them as two entirely separate covenants.[3] However, it seems best to assume with Hugenberger that בְּרִית in Gen 17:9, 13 is shorthand for a specific obligation (Gen 17:10) or sign (Gen 17:11) within the covenant of Genesis 17.[4]

But is circumcision simply an ethnic “boundary marker” or “badge”,[5] or does it actually signify something? It is not, in fact, particularly useful as a “boundary marker”, for many of Israel’s ANE neighbours also practiced circumcision.[6] Moreover, circumcision is invisible under normal circumstances. But neither does circumcision seem to be a proof or symbol of God’s activity, or a sign to remind God of his obligations (cf. Gen 9:16–17). It seems to be a sign for the sake of the one circumcised.[7] Williamson suggests that circumcision reminds the Israelites to “walk before God and be blameless (תָּמִים, whole)”.[8] Yet it is difficult to see how cutting off a part of one’s body would remind one to “be whole”. Goldingay sees the significance of circumcision in “disciplining of (especially male) procreation” (an interpretation also found in Paul’s contemporary Philo).[9]

The narrative context of Genesis 17 may shed light on this question. Given chapter 16 and 17:17–18, circumcision may be a symbolic means to perpetually restrain Abraham’s desire to achieve God’s purposes through his own effort (i.e. his “flesh”). God commands Abraham and his seed to “cut” the very instrument that Abraham had used to try to fulfil the Genesis 15 promise of seed by begetting Ishmael through Hagar (Chapter 16). Abraham had thought that Ishmael (the result of his own effort) was to be the seed (17:17–18). But God, while promising international blessing through Abraham’s blameless walk (17:1) simultaneously restrains Abraham’s natural inclination to achieve God’s purposes by himself. Thus the purpose of the covenant of circumcision is to remind Abraham that God will make a name for him (Gen 12:2; 17:5); he is not to make a name for himself (cf. Gen 11:4). It also reminds Abraham’s seed of the danger of being “cut off” (כרת) if they should break this covenant (Gen 17:14). Hence circumcision is both a sign and warning of fleshly weakness and a stimulus to faith in the God who can achieve his purposes despite the odds (cf. Rom 4:11–12, 17–19).

[2] Williamson, Abraham, 253–58.

[3] E.g. Thomas E. McComiskey, The Covenants of Promise: A Theology of the Old Testament Covenants (Nottingham: IVP, 1985), 146–50; see also Martin Luther, Lectures on Genesis Chapters 15–20 (ed. Jaroslav Pelikan; trans. George V. Schick; LW 3; Saint Louis: Concordia, 1961), 162–63.

[4] Hugenberger, Marriage, 174; see Williamson, Abraham, 149.

[5] So N. T. Wright, The Climax of the Covenant (London: T & T Clark, 1991), 3.

[6] Williamson, Abraham, 176–81.

[7] Williamson, Abraham, 176–81.

[8] Williamson, Abraham, 180–81.

[9] John Goldingay, “The Significance of Circumcision”, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 88 (2000): 3–18.

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(This post is part of a series. See here for an introduction to the series.)

Genesis 15 and 17 describe two distinct but related covenants (i.e. “elected relationships of obligation under oath”) based on the two sets of promises in Gen 12:1–3. The first covenant (Gen 15) is related to nationhood (heirs and inheritance) without any explicit mention of international blessing, while the second (Gen 17, which is dependent upon the fulfilment of the first) is related to the international significance of Abraham and his seed.[1] Apart from the obvious (but often overlooked) fact that the two covenants are separated both in time (by at least 13 years, cf. Gen 15:2, 16:16, 17:1) and in the story of Genesis (by the obvious fact that chapter 16 occurs in between chapters 15 and 17), there are numerous other significant differences between chapters 15 and 17.[2] The chapters have different structures,[3] and describe different rituals. Genesis 15 is a unilateral covenant,[4] while Genesis 17 describes bilateral commitments. Genesis 15 describes a temporal covenant, fulfilled once the nation had taken possession of the land, whilst Genesis 17 describes an enduring covenant (עוֹלָם Gen 17:7). There is a shift in focus from the single nation (Gen 15) to the multitude of nations (Gen 17). The “nation” (i.e. Abraham and his seed) is the result of the Genesis 15 covenant but the partner in the Genesis 17 covenant. This is paralleled by the name change from Abram to Abraham (Gen 17:5). There are two distinct covenantal oaths: the oath of the Genesis 15 covenant (see Gen 24:7),[5] and the oath of the Genesis 17 covenant in Gen 22:16–18 (see below).[6]

The covenants do not stand alone, but are integrated into a story that focuses on Abraham’s faith and loyalty. There is a causal connection (sometimes explicit, sometimes implicit) between Abraham’s faith and loyalty, and the making of the covenants. In chapter 15, God makes a promise of abundant seed to Abram despite Abram’s childlessness (Gen 15:1–5). Abram believes God, and this is accounted as righteousness (Gen 15:6). Then God makes a unilateral covenant of land (inheritance) with Abram (Gen 15:7–21).[7] There is also an explicit connection between Abraham’s loyalty to God and the establishment of the Genesis 17 covenant:

When Abram was ninety-nine years old the LORD appeared to Abram and said to him, “I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless, that I may make my covenant between me and you, and may multiply you greatly”. (Gen 17:1–2 ESV)

“Walking before” the LORD and “being blameless” means primarily loyalty and devotion to God. It is the moral prerequisite for the establishment of the eternal covenant between God and Abraham.[8] This covenant is that God will make Abraham the father of a multitude of nations (Gen 17:4–7). Whilst this covenant encompasses the first covenant of physical seed and inheritance (Gen 17:8), it goes far beyond it.

[T]he central promise in Genesis 17 closely relates to Abraham’s phenomenal expansion in a multinational sphere. Abraham will be a ‘father’ to this international company, not in the sense of being their progenitor, but rather through his special status and the particular responsibilities that he will discharge on their behalf.[9]

God will make a covenant to bless all nations through Abraham and his physical seed, provided Abraham is loyal to God.

In the “Aqedah” (“binding”) incident (Gen 22:1–13), Abraham fulfilled the conditions of loyalty by not withholding his “only son”. Abraham showed his willingness to sacrifice the very “seed” that was the basis for the promises. This was a display of supreme loyalty to God—an outworking of Abraham’s faith in the One who could fulfil His promises despite overwhelming odds.[10] Once Abraham had displayed the necessary blameless walk before God, the covenant spoken of in the future tense in Genesis 17 is ratified by a solemn oath and becomes a reality (Gen 22:15–18, cf. 26:4b–5). Even though the seed is not, in the end, sacrificed, a sacrifice is still an important factor in the ratification of this covenant (Gen 22:13-14). The God who ratifies the covenant by oath is the same God who has just provided a sacrifice.

[2] Williamson, Abraham, 99–113.

[3] Williamson, Abraham, 113–19.

[4] see further Williamson, Abraham, 135–40.

[5] Williamson, Abraham, 139–40.

[6] Williamson, Abraham, 234–53.

[7] Williamson, Abraham, 124.

[8] Williamson, Abraham, 174–76.

[9] Williamson, Abraham, 157–66 (166).

[10] Williamson, Abraham, 234–58.

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