Ezra: Forms and Themes

The book of Ezra presents an interpretive challenge to the scholar. Its chronology is complex, and in the course analysis, readers are unanimous in seeing that its texts, in the canonical arrangement, are not in temporal order. Rearranging the material into a proper sequence is a complex task.

But beyond questions of chronology, Ezra presents other engaging features. In terms of form, a variety of texts present themselves: letters, first-person memoirs, third-person narratives, and lists. The author or editor chose not to smooth the transitions from one form to another, and leave the book as an explicit anthology.

The most obvious narrative to be assembled from the texts is the struggle to rebuild Jerusalem, its Temple, and its walls. The fall of Babylon, in 539 B.C., to the armies of the Persian king Cyrus, paved the way for the release of the Jews, who had been held captive by the Babylonians. Freed by Cyrus, they return to Judea and begin the reconstruction.

This process is dominated by frustration. Initially, Cyrus gives permission and even encouragement to the project, but his successors and their subordinates continuously create obstacles to the construction. The frustrating form of the text - the unevenness between forms, the exasperating riddles of sequence - is perhaps meant to capture the frustrations of the Jews as they encounter one complication after another.

The theme of confusion permeates the theme of obstructionism. The enemies of the rebuilding project confuse the spiritual and the worldly. The fear, real or feigned, that the Jews will not pay taxes to the Persians, and the intimation that Jerusalem would lead some form of rebellion - a plausible notion in the wake of Babylonian revolts against the Persian administration of Xerxes around 521 B.C. - reveal that the enemies of the Jews are thinking on a strictly worldly plane, and fail to understand the larger spiritual issues which motivate the Jews.

Ironically, the Jews themselves are at that moment in their history at which they begin to loosen their grasp on the desire for a worldly kingdom. To be sure, the zealot tendency will remain strong, and four centuries later, many will confuse Jesus with a worldly king. But emerging from the Babylonian Captivity, the Jews have also begun to explore the more spiritual understanding of their inherited promises. While there will remain a significant focus on the establishment of a geo-political kingdom, it no longer has hegemony over the parallel spiritual focus.

Irony is located in the fact that, just as the Jews are increasing their scope to include a vision beyond the physical and political, their enemies, still strictly limited to the physical and political, accuse them of plotting in exactly this worldly mode.

The sudden release with which these barriers are removed and progress enabled manifests a divine intervention, like the Exodus from Egypt or Cyrus's initial impetus for the reconstruction.

The closing segment's concern with intermarriage again emphasizes the transition of the Jews from a primarily geo-political focus to a more spiritual focus, and again leaves them open to misunderstanding. Those not attuned to the sacred concerns of the Jews will be easily misled into accusing them of chauvinism and racism. Nothing could seem more crassly bigoted than Ezra's dismay at intermarriage.

This misunderstanding pivots on the word 'foreign' or 'strange' in the text. Ezra is not dealing here with matters of race or language. What is 'foreign' about the forbidden spouses is their 'abominations' or 'detestable practices' - their adherence to the polytheistic practices of neighboring cultures. Human sacrifice was still not only practiced by the nations located around Judaea, but practiced frequently. These pagan worship ceremonies also include ritual orgies. Ezra marks these things as foreign, i.e., a foreign way of thinking.

The larger text and context of the Tanakh reveal that God freely countenances marriages between individuals of different cultures, languages, citizenships, and races. Moses married Zipporah, a Midianite, who was foreign in the sense of language, culture, citizenship, and race - but who was not foreign in the spiritual sense, inasmuch as her family worshipped the Lord, the God of the Hebrews, the one true God.

To be sure, more questions are raised than are answered by Zipporah - enigmatic passages in the text mention a Cushite woman who might be Zipporah, or who might be a second wife to Moses - but the precedent is set.

Ezra's injunction against marrying those who engaged in the polytheistic practices of the pagan nations was not an example of cultural elitism, national chauvinism, xenophobia, or nativism. Ezra understood that the practices of human sacrifice and ritual orgies were what made these people foreign, and were practices which would grow and spread if permitted. A civilization which would maintain any respect for human life, and which would attribute any dignity to human life, could not survive if it permitted these practices.

A rather modern message emerges from Ezra: if a society is both to maintain civil liberty and to maintain a sense of dignity and respect for human life, then - while it freely allows intermarriage in the cultural, linguistic, and racial senses - it cannot allow practices like human sacrifice and ritual orgies, which undermine any sense of dignity or respect concerning humans, and undermine any sense of civil freedom. Marriage is one way in which these pagan practices propagate them: to allow marriage to a practicing polytheist is to encourage the spread of these practices.

The text of the Tanakh sees no problem with marriage across boundaries of citizenship. Marriage which would be a tool for the degradation of human life, however, must be stopped.

Thus the book of Ezra, documenting the Jews at the time when their awareness of, and focus on, spiritual matters was keener than at previous times in the narrative of the Tanakh's mega-text, fittingly ends with a passage concerning marriage. Having embraced a more spiritual perspective, the Jews could countenance marriages across lines of language, citizenship, race, and culture; but they could not permit marriage which would serve as an instrument for the degradation of human life.

As with Abraham, So with Us

The call of Abraham, at the beginning of chapter twelve in the book of Genesis, is a significant turning-point in the salvation history - Heilsgeschichte - of the world. The first eleven chapters show us God's perfect creation, and sin's entry into that creation, which results in the breaking of fellowship between man and God, and which results in the breaking of fellowship between man and man. It also results, finally, in death. This long downhill slide, from the Fall at the beginning of chapter three, onward through the incidents of their hiding from God (3:8), their attempts to avoid responsibility (3:12 and 3:13), Cain's murder of Abel, Lamech's polygamy, the bizarre celestial confusion (6:1 through 6:4) which triggers the flood at the time of Noah, and the Tower of Babel, manifests the destructiveness of sin, spiraling ever wider through creation. The call of Abraham is God's intervention into world history to limit, and eventually to eliminate, sin's aggressiveness. The call of Abraham is the first good thing in the text since chapter two. From the time of Abraham onward, instead of a long downhill slide, the text shows a long uphill march, as God unfolds His plan of salvation.

Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”

Abraham probably didn't know or understand the millennia-long process which was beginning with him. Exactly how much information God revealed to him, we don't know, but he likely would not have understood it, or been psychologically capable of absorbing its impact, if God had shown him in detail the great plan which was starting with the instructions to Abraham to leave his hometown of Ur and go to a place which God would only later indicate to him.

Leaving Ur, Abraham and family traveled northwest along the Tigris-Euphrates valley to Haran. Abraham's father accompanied them this far, but died in Haran. From Haran, they went southwest into the Jordan River Valley area. This route was part of a longer and widely-used route between Mesopotamia and Egypt. A straight-line route was not available, because moving directly west from Ur led one into impassable deserts. Abraham's nomadic existence in the Levant, also called Canaan, and later called Israel or Palastine, kept him moving periodically to find fresh pastures for his herds and flocks. Many of the places at which he stopped reappear later in the Old Testament salvation narrative, like Shechem, which will centuries later be center of worship in Israel, even before Jerusalem. It is therefore telling that Abraham builds his first recorded altar there.

So Abram went, as the Lord had told him, and Lot went with him. Abram was seventy-five years old when he departed from Haran. And Abram took Sarai his wife, and Lot his brother's son, and all their possessions that they had gathered, and the people that they had acquired in Haran, and they set out to go to the land of Canaan. When they came to the land of Canaan, Abram passed through the land to the place at Shechem, to the oak of Moreh. At that time the Canaanites were in the land. Then the Lord appeared to Abram and said, “To your offspring I will give this land.” So he built there an altar to the Lord, who had appeared to him. From there he moved to the hill country on the east of Bethel and pitched his tent, with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east. And there he built an altar to the Lord and called upon the name of the Lord.

For the phrase "called upon the name of the Lord," the Hebrew text is ambiguous enough to allow the rendering "preached the name of the Lord," but the difference is slight: a healthy spiritual life is an integrated whole, and whoever properly prays will proclaim, and whoever properly proclaims will pray. It is possible to pray without proclaiming, or to proclaim without praying, but in that case, neither will have been done correctly.

The phrase "blessed to be a blessing" has become, appropriately, a regular theme in devotional literature. The January 1994 edition of Tägliche Andachten notes: In diesem Text äußert Gott zwei Wahrheiten. In the divine economy, the blessing we receive and the blessing which God grants to others through us are inseparable. Franz Delitzsch and Carl Friedrich Keil, in their commentary on Genesis, describe the beginning of the Heilsgeschichte in light of the geopolitical situation in the Ancient Near East. Given the established territories, populations, and cultures of the Babylonians (at that point still as the kingdoms of Sumer and Akkad), the Egyptians, the Canaanites, and others, and given the thorough paganism of these civilizations, God would need a new tribe to begin His salvation history.

It was necessary that by the side of these self-formed nations He should form a nation for Himself, to be the recipient and preserver of His salvation, and that in opposition to the rising kingdoms of the world He should establish a kingdom for the living, saving fellowship of man with Himself. The foundation for this was laid by God in the call and separation of Abram from his people and his country, to make him, by special guidance, the father of a nation from which the salvation of the world should come. With the choice of Abram the revelation of God to man assumed a select character, inasmuch as God manifested Himself henceforth to Abram and his posterity alone as the author of salvation and the guide to true life; whilst other nations were left to follow their own course according to the powers conferred upon them, in order that they might learn that in their way, and without fellowship with the living God, it was impossible to find peace to the soul, and the true blessedness of life.

The blessing given to Abraham becomes the blessing given through Abraham, and assumes a new and greater form in Jesus. Jesus is a gift to us; His birth, life, teachings, death, and resurrection are gifts to us. In Jesus are contained numerous other gifts. The Tägliche Andachten tell us that

Der Herr segnet uns. Sein größter Segen ist das Leben and Sterben und die Auferstehung Christi, denn durch den Glauben an Christi Versöhnungswerk werden wir für gerecht erklärt. In Jesu schenkt Gott uns die Möglichkeit, als unschuldig und gerecht gesehen zu werden, und heilig und geliebt zu sein. Daneben gibt uns der Herr auch andere Gaben. Er gibt uns die Gaben des Heiligen Geistes: die Fähigkeiten, mit denen wir in der Gemeinde dienen. Er bewirkt in uns die Frucht des Heiligen Geistes: Liebe, Freude, Geduld, Freundlichkeit usw. Der Herr gibt us auch Lieb und Seele, Augen, Ohren, Vernunft und alle Sinne, Kleider und Schuhe, Essen und Trinken, Haus und alle Güter, Familie, Geld, Freunde, und alles andere.

Like the master who entrusted sums of money to his servants (Matthew chapter 25), the gift which is Jesus and the gifts which arrive through Jesus are not to be securely locked up as a treasure for ourselves, but rather shared with others.

Wir sollen diesen Segen nicht bloß einsammeln und für uns behalten, sondern Gott befiehlt uns, ihn mit anderen zu teilen. Oft sind wir das Mittel wodurch er andere segnet. Wir teilen die gute Nachtricht unserer Erlösung in Jesu mit; wir benutzen die Gaben und Frucht des Heiligen Geistes, um anderen zu helfen; und wir geben auch von unseren weltlichen Gegenständen.

While it is our responsibility to be good stewards of the blessings which God has given us, and it is also our responsibility to share those blessing with others, we simply can't do this. We are too sinful and selfish. It is our nature to keep those blessings for ourselves. Grace can flow freely through us only when the Holy Spirit is present in our hearts and minds, and overrides our selfish human nature. Therefore, we must pray for God to work charity within us, because we cannot work it within ourselves:

Lieber Heiland, segne die Welt durch uns! Amen.

The grace which flows to us is the grace which flows through us. Like Abraham, we are blessed in order to be a blessing.

As Needed

Most followers of Jesus would not immediately consider themselves to be pastors or priests. Yet all of them will occasionally be both.

Under the heading of "the priesthood of all believers," theologians note that each follower of Jesus has an equal status, but not an identical calling, before God. While the fellow up front in the pulpit has been called by the congregation to preach, teach, and administer sacraments, every other person in the pews could have been so called.

This can be made clearer by examining the words we use - words which sometimes seem to create distinctions and classes among believers, but which were intended to reflect tasks which God might occasionally assign to any believer. Consider these words:

A priest is one who stands as an intermediary between man and God. A priest represents God to man and man to God. Although the term has taken on complex meanings from the ancient Hebrews to the modern Roman Catholics, in its simplest sense, if you are praying for someone, then intercession is a priestly function, and you are at that moment a priest. Likewise, if you assure someone of God's love, that is likewise representing God to man, and you are executing a priestly function.

A minister is someone who serves. In any context, if you are helping another person, you are ministering, and you are a minister.

A pastor is a shepherd. To the extent that you care for others, take care of others, whether in the sense of provision or in the sense of leadership, you are a pastor, carrying out pastoral ministry.

A preacher is one who proclaims. To make a statement about God is to preach.

An evangelist is a messenger, specifically, a messenger who brings good news. Any word of love or forgiveness you speak is an evangelical word.

A disciple is one who is training or trained; one who is being trained or who has been trained. A disciple is a pupil, one who studies and learns, and is subject to discipline.

A prophet is a spokesperson for God. Anyone who explains God's intent or meaning to another is a spokesman or spokeswoman for God, and is prophesying.

An ordained person is one who has been appointed or officially designated for a purpose. While this word is normally reserved for clergy, there are times at which God ordains an individual to carry out a specific task, whether proclaiming doctrine or changing a flat tire, and there are times at which the church appoints or designated a person for a specific task, perhaps ushering or organizing sheet music.

As we look at these words closely, we note that their semantic fields overlap, despite the fact that the prophets and the priests, categorically, were often in conflict. This is not surprising, from a God who will "unite all things" and who sees all of His people as a royal priesthood. If you are a follower of Jesus, you may not normally think of yourself as a priest or as a pastor, as ordained or as prophetic, but at any moment, for perhaps a brief time, God may appoint you to be all of these and more.

Words Mean Things

Some words are used so frequently that listeners may no longer pay attention to them, or may falsely believe that know their definitions. The quest for rigorous definitions of words is an indispensable part of clear thinking. Etymology is a part of a more nuanced definition. A word's origin and history often shades its meaning.

For example, the word Lord has a tangled past in both religion and politics. Originally a Germanic word for someone in charge of bread and food - literally, a "loaf-keeper" - the word grew along with the feudal system to denote the local landowning political authority. When theologians needed an equivalent for the Greek Kyrie and the Latin dominus, the Germanic/English lord seemed to fit the bill, because in its feudal usage, it combined both authority and friendly provision. The word's use as a piece of feudal jargon was established before the year 1000 A.D., although the spelling would still undergo considerable change; it was solidly in place as a synonym for God by the 1300's. While the word stuck in religious usage, its political context changed. The feudal system faded away, and the main political use of lord was in reference to the British Parliament's upper house, the House of Lords. This newer political sense of lord does not harmonize with the spiritual idiom. While God as Lord shares with the British parliamentarian a sense of power and authority, the spiritual Lord has an affection and an emotional intimacy which the member of parliament lacks. When Scripture is translated into other languages, the Greek and Hebrew words which are rendered into English as Lord are rendered into German as der Herr, into French as monsieur, and into Spanish as el Señor. The common elements among these words include: owner, master, administrator, rank, high position, and nobility.

Less obvious, but still essential, is the political element in the word Christ. This Greek word is a rendering of the Hebrew Messiah, which has a root meaning of 'anoint' - an ancient ceremony in which oil is poured onto the head of man, indicating that he is to become king. The notion represented is one of a person who has been appointed, chosen, or designated.

Non-political is the history of the name Jesus, which was produced by successive transliterations from the original Hebrew Yeshua into Greek, then into Latin, subsequently into German, and finally into English. The Hebrew name Yeshua is also the name rendered as Joshua, the successor to Moses in the Old Testament. The name itself has an etymological meaning of save. Consider that both Joshua and Salvador are still common given names, as is Jesus is some Spanish-speaking cultures.

Given the consideration of the words above, fresh possibilities exist for rephrasing the churchly-sounding "Lord Jesus Christ," a phrase which has been spoken and heard, written and read, so often that one, in the colloquial phrases, "simply doesn't hear it any more" or "reads right past it." To get an idea of how that phrase sounded when it was fresh, when it hadn't been use ritualistically for two thousand years, consider a couple of synonymous constructions: "Joshua, appointed as director" or "Salvador, designated as chairman" - how different! This is not disrespect or irreverence, but rather an attempt to understand how this phrase would have sounded two thousand years ago, when it was new. What impact would this have had on listeners and readers? "Jesus, the one chosen to be the authoritative yet caring Master of the universe!"

Bonhoeffer on Community

The book titled Life Together - originally Gemeinsames Leben - has remained popular among Christians since it was first published in 1939, but even more so after the war's end in 1945. In this book, Dietrich Bonhoeffer shares his insightful thoughts about Christian community. His thoughts are not quickly or easily understood, and his text requires concentrated reading interspersed with pauses for reflection. A relatively short book, it requires perhaps more time to digest than some books with much greater numbers of pages.

The book itself was written as a retrospective on the several years during which Bonhoeffer organized and operated the Finkenwalde seminary. The seminary was founded in April 1935 elsewhere, and in June 1935 was moved to Finkenwalde. The seminary was a branch of the Bekennende Kirche, or the "Confessing Church" as it was known, a group of Lutheran Christians who had not followed the larger institutional church in attempting to appease or coexist with the Nazi government. The name of the group indicated that it was in statu confessionis, i.e., in a state of official protest. The Confessing Church could not go along with the larger national church because that larger body was failing to speak clearly against the Nazis; the Confessing Church, obviously, also could not go along with the Nazis, but understood its mission to be one of clearly exposing the Nazis as evil and working against them. The larger church, while privately understanding the Nazis to be evil, chose to focus instead on caring for the spiritual lives of individuals, which, however, it was less and less able to do as the Nazi government increasingly limited the church's activities.

As the Nazis progressively outlawed various Christian practices, Christianity became an underground movement, and Christians met in secret. The public and visible churches ceased to be Christian churches and instead became vehicles for Nazi propaganda.

The Finkenwalde seminary, then, was one of the last visible institutions of Christianity when the Gestapo closed it in mid-1937. Admittedly, churches continued to exist and function into the 1940's, but they were not Christian churches: they were anti-Christian churches, extensions of the Nazi party, which opposed, and sought to eradicate, Christianity.

The book Gemeinsames Leben was written to record the type of life that the Finkenwalde seminary sought to realize and largely succeeded in realizing. That community was not, as some might suppose, monastic. In fact, Life Together is anti-monastic, as Bonhoeffer reminds Christians that they are called to live "in the midst of their enemies" and "scattered among the nations," not cloistered.

To be sure, life in Finkenwalde was rich in prayer, singing, and Scripture reading, and much of that in a communal setting. But it was not done in a spirit of monkish isolation, but rather, to paraphrase authors Hugh Halter and Matt Smay, the seminarians were gathered in order to be scattered: their life, rich in devotional practices, was preparing them to be sent out to urban neighborhoods of factory workers, or to minister among the soldiers in the army.

In the chapter one of the book, Bonhoeffer gives some foundational thoughts concerning Christian community. The first is the call to avoid monastic isolation and live in the midst of the world as it is. He recalls Luther, who pointed out that Jesus did not live the life of a cloistered monk, but rather lived among those who opposed Him. We are called to do the same. Our Christian community, our common devotional life, is the base from which we are to minister to the world.

God's people are scattered around the world, yet united in Christ. Whatever form fellowship takes, Bonhoeffer tells us, it is a blessing, it is also necessary for our spiritual well-being, and it is easily taken for granted by those of us who have ready access to nearly limitless quantities of it. By contrast, those Christians who live among many people, but among no other followers of Jesus, recognize the value of fellowship precisely because it is not available to them.

This fellowship is a physical presence, Bonhoeffer emphasizes. Conversation, prayer, study: face-to-face, shoulder-to-shoulder. Looking into someone's eyes during conversation, shaking hands: these are not replaceable by long-distance communication. Although written in the 1930's, Gemeinsames Leben contains a reminder important for life nearly a century later: electronic connection is no substitute for fellowship, and preoccupation with cyberspace is disruptive to fellowship. Believers need to gather for study, meditation, prayer, and fellowship - physically in the same place at the same time, and not constantly interrupted by electronic communication.

Fellowship takes many forms, some of which are brief, passing, or sporadic; but Bonhoeffer is writing about sustained fellowship, about community, about Life Together. This can be a group of students at a seminary, a family, a neighborhood, or a congregation. But merely being in one of those situations does not automatically entail "life together" - he writes the book in order to show how such a communal sense might be achieved. Intentional effort is required.

Such a life is more than mere communication and cooperation. Bonhoeffer envisions something even better: a community made possible by, and gathered around, Jesus. This is possible only with Jesus:

Was heißt das? Es heißt erstens, dass ein Christ den anderen braucht, um Jesu Christi willen. Es heißt zweitens, dass ein Christ zum anderen nur durch Jesus Christus kommt. Es heißt drittens, dass wir in Jesus Christus von Ewigkeit her erwählt, in der Zeit angenommen und für die Ewigkeit vereinigt sind.

Christians need fellowship: Christianity is essentially a communal enterprise, and despite famous tales of desert hermits, is not designed to be lived out in isolation. Fellowship can be realized only because of, by the power of, Jesus.

God's Word sustains us: "man shall not live by bread alone; but man lives by every word that proceeds from the mouth of the Lord" (Deuteronomy 8:3). We need God's Word, and in community, we present and supply that Word to each other: "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord" (Colossians 3:16). In both devotional practices and in practical physical work, such a life together is a mutual encouragement: "be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart, giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ" (Ephesians 5:18-21, cf. Hebrews 10:24-25).

Any peace among men, any form of unity, is made possible only by Jesus (Ephesians 2:14). Even then, we are under no illusions that we are creating a little utopia. Humans by nature quarrel with each other. People inevitably disappoint each other. Bonhoeffer will address the brokenness which Christian community always experiences, because it is composed of broken humans in a broken world. The fallenness of the world pervades the Christian community.

Als Gottes Sohn Fleisch annahm, da hat er aus lauter Gnade unser Wesen, unsere Natur, uns selbst wahrhaftig und leibhaftig angenommen. So war es der ewige Ratschluss des dreieinigen Gottes. Nun sind wir in ihm. Wo er ist, trägt er unser Fleisch, trägt er uns. Wo er ist, dort sind wir auch, in der Menschwerdung, im Kreuz und in seiner Auferstehung. Wir gehören zu ihm, weil wir in ihm sind. Darum nennt uns die Schrift den Leib Christi. Sind wir aber, ehe wir es wissen und wollen konnten, mit der ganzen Gemeinde in Jesus Christus erwählt und angenommen, so gehören wir auch miteinander in Ewigkeit zu ihm. Die wir hier in seiner Gemeinschaft leben, werden einst in ewiger Gemeinschaft bei ihm sein. Wer seinen Bruder ansieht, soll wissen, dass er ewig mit ihm vereinigt sein wird in Jesus Christus. Christliche Gemeinschaft heißt Gemeinschaft durch und in Jesus Christus. Auf dieser Voraussetzung ruht alles, was die Schrift an Weisungen und Regeln für das gemeinsame Leben der Christen gibt.

Sober realism tells us that, although we are gathered around a perfect, infinite, sinless, and holy God, we remain flawed, corrupt, broken, and sinful. We will not be able to create a little paradise for ourselves in Christian community. Bonhoeffer speaks derisively of utopian schemes: "God hates visionary dreaming":

Unzählige Male ist eine ganze christliche Gemeinschaft daran zerbrochen, dass sie aus einem Wunschbild heraus lebte. Gerade der ernsthafte Christ, der zum ersten Male in eine christliche Gemeinschaft gestellt ist, wird oft ein sehr bestimmtes Bild von der Art des christlichen Zusammenlebens mitbringen und zu verwirklichen bestrebt sein. Es ist aber Gottes Gnade, die alle derartigen Träume rasch zum Scheitern bringt. Die große Enttäuschung über die Andern, über die Christen im allgemeinen und, wenn es gut geht, auch über uns selbst, muss uns überwältigen, so gewiss Gott uns zur Erkenntnis echter christlicher Gemeinschaft führen will. Gott lässt es aus lauter Gnade nicht zu, dass wir auch nur wenige Wochen in einem Traumbild leben, uns jenen beseligenden Erfahrungen und jener beglückenden Hochgestimmtheit hingeben, die wie ein Rausch über uns kommt. Denn Gott ist nicht ein Gott der Gemütserregungen, sondern der Wahrheit. Erst die Gemeinschaft, die in die große Enttäuschung hineingerät mit all ihren unerfreulichen und bösen Erscheinungen, fängt an zu sein, was sie vor Gott sein soll, fängt an, die ihr gegebene Verheißung im Glauben zu ergreifen. Je bälder die Stunde dieser Enttäuschung über den Einzelnen und über die Gemeinschaft kommt, desto besser für beide. Eine Gemeinschaft aber, die eine solche Enttäuschung nicht ertragen und nicht überleben würde, die also an dem Wunschbild festhält, wenn es ihr zerschlagen werden soll, verliert zur selben Stunde die Verheißung christlicher Gemeinschaft auf Bestand, sie muss früher oder später zerbrechen. Jedes menschliche Wunschbild, das in die christliche Gemeinschaft mit eingebracht wird, hindert die echte Gemeinschaft und muss zerbrochen werden, damit die echte Gemeinschaft leben kann. Wer seinen Traum von einer christlichen Gemeinschaft mehr liebt als die christliche Gemeinschaft selbst, der wird zum Zerstörer jeder christlichen Gemeinschaft, und ob er es persönlich noch so ehrlich, noch so ernsthaft und hingebend meinte.

God blesses us with rude awakenings. When we imagine creating a comfortable little community for ourselves, in which we will be happy and all will go well, "God's grace speedily shatters such dreams." We will experience "disillusionment with others, with Christians in general, and, if we are fortunate, with ourselves." God will not allow us to idealize or idolize preachers or ministers; He will not allow us to conceptualize them as heroes. Just as Scripture is careful to show us the sins of every ordinary man in the Bible - Adam, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Samuel, Saul David, Solomon, Peter, James, John - so God will show us that the leaders and "role models" in our Christian community are sinful sinners. We proceed by loving, forgiving, and respecting them. This is true not only for leaders, but for anyone in Christian community: our peers and our subordinates, too.

"God is not a God of the emotions but the God of truth," Bonhoeffer writes. Only when we face "such disillusionment, with all its unhappy and ugly aspects," only then can we "grasp in faith the promise that is given to" us. Disillusionment is a blessing - think about the literal meaning of the word: to have an illusion taken away, to become aware of the truth - on both an individual and a corporate level: "The sooner this shock of disillusionment comes to an individual and to a community the better for both." Although the word 'dream' has taken on a virtuous quality in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, Bonhoeffer reminds us it means, finally, something which is not - something which is false:

Gott hasst die Träumerei; denn sie macht stolz und anspruchsvoll. Wer sich das Bild einer Gemeinschaft erträumt, der fordert von Gott, von den Andern und von sich selbst die Erfüllung. Er tritt als Fordernder in die Gemeinschaft der Christen, richtet ein eigenes Gesetz auf und richtet danach die Brüder und Gott selbst. Er steht hart und wie ein lebender Vorwurf für alle andern im Kreis der Brüder. Er tut, als habe er erst die christliche Gemeinschaft zu schaffen, als solle sein Traumbild die Menschen verbinden. Was nicht nach seinem Willen geht, nennt er Versagen. Wo sein Bild zunichte wird, sieht er die Gemeinschaft zerbrechen. So wird er erst zum Verkläger seiner Brüder, dann zum Verkläger Gottes und zuletzt zu dem verzweifelten Verkläger seiner selbst. Weil Gott den einzigen Grund unserer Gemeinschaft schon gelegt hat, weil Gott uns längst, bevor wir in das gemeinsame Leben mit andern Christen eintraten, mit diesen zu einem Leibe zusammengeschlossen hat in Jesus Christus, darum treten wir nicht als die Fordernden, sondern als die Dankenden und Empfangenden in das gemeinsame Leben mit andern Christen ein. Wir danken Gott für das, was er an uns getan hat. Wir danken Gott, dass er uns Brüder gibt, die unter seinem Ruf, unter seiner Vergebung, unter seiner Verheißung leben. Wir beschweren uns nicht über das, was Gott uns nicht gibt, sondern wir danken Gott für das, was er uns täglich gibt. Und ist es nicht genug, was uns gegeben ist: Brüder, die in Sünde und Not mit uns unter dem Segen seiner Gnade dahingehen und leben sollen? Ist denn die Gabe Gottes an irgend einem Tage, auch in den schwierigen, notvollen Tagen einer christlichen Bruderschaft weniger als dies unbegreiflich Große? Ist denn nicht auch dort, wo Sünde und Missverstehen das gemeinsame Leben belasten, ist nicht auch der sündigende Bruder doch immer noch der Bruder, mit dem ich gemeinsam unter dem Wort Christi stehe, und wird seine Sünde mir nicht zu immer neuem Anlass, dafür zu danken, dass wir beide unter der einen vergebenden Liebe Gottes in Jesus Christus leben dürfen? Wird so nicht gerade die Stunde der großen Enttäuschung über den Bruder mir unvergleichlich heilsam sein, weil sie mich gründlich darüber belehrt, dass wir beide doch niemals von eigenen Worten und Taten, sondern allein von dem einen Wort und der einen Tat leben können, die uns in Wahrheit verbindet, nämlich von der Vergebung der Sünden in Jesus Christus? Wo die Frühnebel der Traumbilder fallen, dort bricht der helle Tag christlicher Gemeinschaft an.

"God hates visionary dreaming" - Bonhoeffer may run afoul of consultants who instruct us in "vision casting" - because the one who sets up such ideals becomes proud, becomes judgmental, and becomes demanding. The dreamer judges reality and finds it deficient, judges men as they correspond to his dream, and judges outcomes based on his plans, not based on God's plans. "Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realize; it is rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate." If it were a human product, it would be far less valuable than it is. If it could be achieved by human effort, it would be neither holy nor enduring. The dreamer demands that reality correspond to his dream, that people subordinate themselves to his will, and that eventually even God conform to his dream.

This lattermost presumption - that one demand that God conform to one's visionary dreams - may well be subconscious or unconscious, but is nonetheless an arrogant imposition on God and essentially idolatrous. Such a visionary leader/dreamer may vigorously deny that he is imposing on God, and may even believe his own denial, but in any rational analysis of the situation, he is doing exactly that.

True Christian community is not built on dreams, but rather on God's Word. In such a Christian community, Jesus is the mediator of every relationship. To the human mind, it may seem better to have immediate, unmediated, relationship. The natural sinful human heart and mind is capable of very strong passionate attachment. But such relationships are blind to the truth, following the beloved unconditionally, and turn readily into hatred if the beloved or the relationship fail - which they inevitably will. By contrast, the relationship in which Jesus is the mediator loves unconditionally and serves unconditionally, but does not follow unconditionally. Bonhoeffer calls this the difference between spiritual love and human love - the difference between geistliche Liebe and seelische Liebe:

Eben hier ist aber der Ort, an dem die geistliche Liebe anfängt. Darum wird die seelische Liebe zum persönlichen Haß, wo sie der echten geistlichen Liebe begegnet, die nicht begehrt, sondern dient. Seelische Liebe macht sich selbst zum Selbstzweck, zum Werk, zum Götzen, den sie anbetet, dem sie alles unterwerfen muß. Sie pflegt, sie kultiviert, sie liebt sich selbst und sonst nichts auf der Welt. Geistliche Liebe aber kommt von Jesus Christus her, sie dient ihm allein, sie weiß, daß sie keinen unmittelbaren Zugang zum Menschen hat. Christus steht zwischen mir und dem Anderen. Was Liebe zum Anderen heißt, weiß ich nicht schon im voraus aus dem allgemeinen Begriff von Liebe, der aus meinem seelischen Verlangen erwachsen ist, - das alles mag viel mehr vor Christus gerade Haß und Böses zur Selbstsucht sein, - was Liebe ist, wird mir allein Christus in seinem Wort sagen. Gegen alle eigenen Meinungen und Überzeugungen wird Jesus Christus mir sagen, wie Liebe zum Bruder in Wahrheit aussieht. Darum ist geistliche Liebe allein an das Wort Jesu Christi gebunden. Wo Christus mich um der Liebe willen Gemeinschaft halten heißt, will ich sie halten, wo seine Wahrheit um der Liebe willen mir Aufhebung der Gemeinschaft befiehlt, dort hebe ich sie auf, allen Protesten meiner seelischen Liebe zum Trotz. Weil geistliche Liebe nicht begehrt, sondern dient, darum liebt sie den Feind wie den Bruder. Sie entspringt ja weder am Bruder, noch am Feind, sondern an Christus und seinem Wort. Seelische Liebe vermag die geistliche Liebe niemals zu begreifen; denn geistliche Liebe ist von oben, sie ist aller irdischen Liebe etwas ganz Fremdes, Neues, Unbegreifliches.

Bonhoeffer's community at Finkenwalde was a serious attempt at carrying out the concepts in Gemeinsames Leben - even though the book was written after the community ended, the concepts existed beforehand. Describing the community, Eric Metaxas writes:

Another aspect of this “life together” that proved quite difficult was Bonhoeffer’s rule never to speak about a brother in his absence. Bonhoeffer knew that living according to what Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount was not “natural” for anyone.

There were long periods of silent meditation, and periods of communal singing; this way of life would seem foreign to many twenty-first century Americans, Christian or not.

Whatever they thought of the disciplines and the daily devotions, no one at Finkenwalde could complain that there was no fun. Most afternoons and evenings a time was set aside for hiking or sports. Bonhoeffer was forever organizing games, just as his mother had done in their family. There was a lot of table tennis, and anyone looking for Bonhoeffer would try the table tennis room first. They also played soccer. Schönherr recalled that "Bonhoeffer was always at the head of the pack because he was such a fantastic runner." He had always been competitive, and Bethge remembered that "he hated to lose when we tried shot-putting - or stone-putting - down the beach."

Just as Bonhoeffer sternly warned against cloistered monasticism, he also warned against the loss of spiritual discipline. German pietism, the spiritual descendants of Spener, could be legalistic; but the theology students Bonhoeffer had met at New York's Union Theological seminary had gone so far in avoiding legalism that they had become formless and meaningless, having nothing to communicate. One must avoid both. Metaxas continues:

Bonhoeffer wrote Barth, partially in response to his concern about Finkenwalde's "monastic" atmosphere. Bonhoeffer himself was critical of "pietistic" communities, but he knew that regarding all emphasis on prayer and spiritual disciplines as "legalism" was equally erroneous. He had seen that at Union, too, where students prided themselves on avoiding the legalism of the so-called fundamentalists without expressing any real theology.

The book Life Together exists, paradoxically, thanks to the Gestapo. Gerhard Müller and Albrecht Schönherr write that, early on, Bonhoeffer was asked to write about the lifestyle of the students at Finkenwalde, but declined, considering the seminary community to be an unfinished experiment still in progress. He felt that it would be premature to write a book about it. Only because the Gestapo closed the seminary in mid-1937 did Bonhoeffer feel that it would then be appropriate to write about it.

Life together, living in Christian community, is not a paradise or a utopia. It calls us realize that we are incapable of the discipline and sober realism which it requires. We can only, we must simply, forgive each other - yet even this is beyond us: we forgive only as, and to the extent that, the Holy Spirit indwells us and empowers us and moves us to forgive. We can only forgive others and forgive ourselves, and watch as God does good things in us and through us.

Davidic Dirt - the Dirt on David

Like many individuals discussed in the Bible, the Israelite king David is more complex than is often reflected in the oversimplified platitudes formulated about him in Sunday School classes. A common version of the events tells us that a happy little shepherd boy became a brave king, and wrote a few psalms along the way.

The text gives us more nuanced data.

To be sure, Scripture characterizes David as "a man after God's own heart" (I Samuel 13:14), as one who "walked before God in integrity of heart and uprightness" (I Kings 9:4), as "God's servant who kept God's commands and followed God with all his heart, doing only what was right in God's eyes" (I Kings 14:8), and as a man "whose heart was fully devoted to the Lord" (I Kings 15:3).

All of which would incline us to accept the hagiographic version of the David narrative, except for less obvious but still intentional hints in the text that David entered into service for a Philistine king, attacking Israel as a mercenary (I Samuel 27:8, 30:26). In addition, David arranges for cold-blooded executions, ordering the slaughter of the blind and the lame (II Samuel 5:6-10), hardly battlefield heroics. He further commits adultery and arranges a murder (II Samuel 11:1 to 11:27). He hires heathen Philistines as his bodyguards (II Samuel 15:13 to 15:18), causing the reader to wonder why David couldn't trust his own countrymen to guard him. Despite earlier promises to protect the offspring of Saul (I Samuel 20:15 and 24:21; II Samuel 19:23), he orders the execution of Saul's children and grandchildren (II Samuel 21; I Kings 2:8); the one surviving grandson of Saul is placed under house arrest, so that David can keep an eye on him, lest he develop dynastic ambitions (II Samuel 9). As David lies on his deathbed, he orders a final round of executions to get rid of his political enemies.

Some efforts have been made over the centuries to bowdlerize David's biography. Some scholars argue that he did not attack Israelite cities, but merely pretended to attack them, while working as a mercenary for the Philistines; one is hard-pressed to imagine that the Philistines were stupid enough to be thus fooled, or easy-going enough to allow such behavior on the part of a hired gun. Some would argue that David was showing kindness and hospitality to Mephibosheth, but anyone familiar with the dynamics of hereditary monarchies in the Ancient Near East will understand that any living offspring of a former monarch was immediately and universally understood to be a threat to the life of the current monarch; Mephibosheth's mere existence was effectively an assassination attempt on David. David was acting on the old maxim that one should keep one's friends close, but one's enemies closer.

Despite this list of sins, Scripture keeps David as an example of a godly man. His son, Solomon, is judged (II Kings 11:4) as not having lived up to the Davidic standard:

when Solomon was old his wives turned away his heart after other gods, and his heart was not wholly true to the Lord his God, as was the heart of David his father.

We have here a hint as to why the text is willing to overlook David's many and significant sins. David did not commit idolatry. David's life, including his sins, and especially his sins, was lived in the consciousness of the one true God. It is to this Lord that David repents.

One might think that David retains his status as role-model in the Bible because of his political and military exploits; he has been, at times, a sort of folk hero to the Israelites. Although some of the Jews may have in fact retained David as a hero for that reason, it is for different reasons that the text retains him as a spiritual template.

It is worth noting that David called Jerusalem "the City of David" (II Samuel 5:9), whereas God called Bethlehem "the City of David" (Luke 2:4 and 2:11). God focuses not on David's hero status, but on David's spiritual status. The Messiah would be called the "Son of David" - the Israelites took this to indicate David's worldly exploits; God took it to mean a man of faith. The Jews connected David to Jerusalem - he made it into a political and ecclesiastical capital - but Jesus found Jerusalem distasteful (Ezekiel 16:48, Matthew 23:37, Luke 13:34).

David is not the hero of the narrative. God is the hero. David is a flawed, finite, and sinful man. God uses David, and through David, God accomplishes great things. David is an instrument; by means of David, God works. There is good news in this. If God was willing to use a man so sinful and flawed as David was, then God will be willing to use people so sinful and flawed as I am, and as you are.

God's Laws

God is, among other things, a legislator. God has issued laws throughout history. The first laws He gave were to Adam and Eve. After that, He gave other laws to other people, notably Noah. It is not wise to attempt exact dates for these, but we can safely assume that laws were issued to Adam and Eve sometime prior to 4000 B.C., whereby the phrase 'sometime prior to' can cover years, centuries, or even a couple of millennia. It is also prudent to refrain from attempting an exact dating for Noah, but rather we might note that laws were given to Noah sometime after they were given to Adam and Eve, and sometime before God spoke to Abraham. Abraham we may posit as living around 1950 B.C., give or take a century.

But God's most prolific legislative activity occurred during the life of Moses. We will assign a date of 1400 B.C. to the activities of Moses, again allowing a century in either direction for approximation. To Moses God gave many laws - 613 by traditional rabbinical count - and these laws attract considerable interpretive attention, among Christians, among Jews, and among skeptics.

One claim made by the skeptics runs along these lines: modern Christians seem to pick and choose from among God's laws. Christians assert the validity of, and make earnest if flawed attempts to adhere to, regulations like "you shall not commit adultery" and "love your neighbor as yourself" (Leviticus 19:18) and "Do not deny justice to your poor people" (Exodus 23:6). Simultaneously, however, Christians feel free to ignore laws like "Do not wear clothing woven of two kinds of material" or "Do not cut the hair at the sides of your head or clip off the edges of your beard" (both found in Leviticus, chapter 19). The skeptic will note that the Christians seem arbitrary in their choices: these laws are found in the same texts, often within the same passage or subsection within that text, yet one is diligently enforced and the other dismissed. The skeptic asserts that there is no rational choice here, and that the Christian is picking and choosing within the text according to his personal preference, not according to any logical axiom.

Such debate is not new, of course, and the Christians have standard replies to such allegations. One common response is to say that the laws can be logically, historically, and textually divided into a number of categories. For example, one might say that some of the laws are ceremonial, and apply to the cult and the rituals of the Israelites during their Tabernacle phase or during their Temple phase; other laws might be regarded as civil laws, to govern the nation-state which existed from the time that the land was occupied under the command of Joshua, around 1400 B.C., up until the last captives were taken to Babylon, around 588 B.C., those dates defining a continuous legal tradition and the continuous existence of a geo-political entity governed by such laws; a third and final category contains timeless moral laws which are understood to govern all humans.

Having sorted the laws into these categories, some modern Christians think that they have answered the skeptic's challenge, by arguing that they are obliged to follow only those laws in the third category, the timeless moral laws. The laws in the first two categories, the civil laws and the ceremonial laws, applied only to the historically-conditioned nation-state of Israel as it existed during Old Testament times.

A similar procedure can be applied to New Testament laws; some are dismissed as historically or culturally conditioned, while other are seen as timeless spiritual precepts.

The debate will go at least another round, however. The skeptic argues that the Christian may be making arbitrary assignments in placing various laws in various categories. First, it can be noted that the text has scattered and mixed these laws among each other, and neither mentions any system of categorization nor assigns laws to categories. Second, even if the skeptic grants for the sake of argument the existence of such categories, the assignation of any specific law to a particular category becomes an interpretive ambiguity: is the command to "Stand up in the presence of the aged" a civil law of ancient Israel, or a timeless moral law for all humanity? Is the Sabbath command to "Six days do your work, but on the seventh day do not work, so that your ox and your donkey may rest" a ceremonial law, a civil law, or moral law? A few minutes of reflection will reveal that nuanced arguments can be made for conflicting categorization of such laws. A third proposition which the skeptic can use is this: it is theologically attractive to the Christian to assert that God's laws are all timeless and eternal; it seems at least disrespectful, and at most blasphemous, to assert that God's laws, or at least some of them, have expired.

The third objection raised by the skeptic can, however, be turned by the Christian to his defense.

Acknowledging that all of God's laws are timeless and eternal, the Christian can then dispense with the categories of civil, ceremonial, and moral. Instead the Christian can reply thusly: every law given by God is still in full effect and will remain so; the question is not whether the law has expired, but rather whom the law is intended to govern. Some of God's laws are given specifically to the Jews; others were given to all mankind.

There is textual evidence to support this approach: the laws given to Adam and Eve, and the laws given to Noah, can arguably be read as given to all humanity; the Noahide covenant, extrapolated from Genesis (chapter 9), can be understood as a relatively clear foundational statement of commonly accepted morality in Western Civilization, the Judeo-Christian tradition, and European culture. Likewise, much of the New Testament's legislation is universal. By contrast, Mosaic law can be understood as applying to Judaism, narrowly construed. Thus the modern Christian need not be bound by dietary and ceremonial laws, although they are still in full effect for the modern Jew.

This discussion of God's laws can, and in some situations has, gone on for a few more - or many more - rounds. The danger in this debate, however, is that one can finally lose sight of the bigger picture: God's laws are only a part of God's Word.

To think only of God's laws, or even to think primarily of God's laws, is to lose sight of God's nature. God is above all else loving. The beginning of time and space, the beginning of matter and energy, was God's creation of the universe - time and space being called into being by the One Who existed outside of them. This beginning of all things was an act of love. God created in order that He might love. At the end of all time, God awaits His creatures, freely offering unearned and unmerited forgiveness and inviting those creatures to enjoy an eternal life in peace and joy after the end of time. Between the beginning of time and the end of time, God's chief activity is loving His creatures - providing for them, guiding them, encouraging them.

Remembering that the Hebrew vocabulary items translated into English as 'law' - the word Torah is chief - can also be rendered as 'instruction' or 'direction' or 'guidance' or 'training' or 'coaching', manifests the loving motive behind the issuance of the law.

It is in this larger context of God's love that His laws must be viewed. It is good and important that we analyze His laws and try to understand them. But it is better and more important that we have a notion of God's activity as a whole. The Formula of Concord notes that

The law has been given to people for three reasons: first, that through it external discipline may be maintained against the unruly and the disobedient; second, that people may be led through it to a recognition of their sins; third, after they have been reborn — since nevertheless the flesh still clings to them — that precisely because of the flesh they may have a sure guide, according to which they can orient and conduct their entire life.

Each of these three purposes can ultimately be understood in the context of the larger theme of God's love. The first use of the law provides for some manner of civil decency and safety: God's desire to form a good environment for His creatures. The second use of the law enlightens humans as to their imperfect natures and their need for God's forgiveness. The third use of the law keeps humans ever aware of their imperfections - as they attempt to live properly and find it continuously impossible - and prevents humans from thinking that their actions might atone for their imperfections. The Formula of Concord continues:

For although they are regenerate and renewed in the spirit of their mind, yet in the present life this regeneration and renewal is not complete, but only begun, and believers are, by the spirit of their mind, in a constant struggle against the flesh, that is, against the corrupt nature and disposition which cleaves to us unto death.

As humans try and fail to live perfectly, the net effect of the third use of the law is to drive them back to the second use of the law. To be sure, the third use of the law also contains the notion of the law as a "guide" to behavior. We might rightly consider that the third use of the law has two distinct points within it. But the entire discussion of God's law, properly considered, serves to continually highlight human imperfection and the impossibility of human obedience. On those rare occasions when we do seem to obey God's law, it is in fact the Holy Spirit acting within us. We are ever reliant on God's grace.

Active vs. Passive

One of the themes to which Christian thought many times returns is that, in matters of justification and salvation, God is active and humans are passive. This paradigm can be seen in the language used to describe salvation - in the relevant languages, verbs have an active voice and a passive voice. They manner in which these verb forms are used is telling.

In the New Testament, Jesus explains that He "came to seek and to save the lost" (Luke 19:10). Jesus is active - He is seeking and saving. The people whom He saves are passive - they are being sought and being saved. Likewise, Scripture tells us that "by grace you have been saved" (Ephesians 2:5 and 2:8). Again the verb is passive.

Likewise, the Old Testament sees salvation as God's activity, in which humans are passive objects. In Psalm 44, the text ascribes to God a great variety of saving activities. Concerning people, it is God who "set them free" and the Psalmist confesses that "it is You who saved us." By contrast, of the people it is true that "not by their own sword did they win," and the author of the psalm admits that "not in my bow do I trust, nor can my sword save me." Thus in both Hebrew and Greek, in the Old Testament and in the New, God's active role, and man's passive role, in salvation is clarified.

Yet, despite the pervasiveness and clarity of the Scriptural exposition of this dichotomy, there are disputes about it. Exactly how far should we apply this active/passive paradigm?

It seems, for example, that when we transition from justification to sanctification, that the argument can be made that humans become at that point active - they are activated by the Holy Spirit. A Pauline expression like "It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" leaves some ambiguity.

Theologians of all varieties are drawn into passive language when describing salvation - even those who espouse "decision theology," which is a partial or complete rejection of human passivity in justification. Author J.D. Greear, who advocates for a type of decision theology, writes:

We are "born again" (John 3:1-3); our sins are washed away (Acts 22:16); Christ's righteousness is credited to us (Rom. 4:5); we are transferred from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light (Col. 1:13); we go from being children of death to being beloved sons and daughters of God (Eph. 2:1-4); God's favor replaces His wrath over us (John 3:36); and we are filled with His Spirit and baptized into His body (Acts 10:44; 1 Cor. 12:13).

If we scan that text for verbs, and parse them, the result is a picture of God in action, and humans as the passive recipients of His grace. People "are born" - they don't give birth to themselves; "being born" is a passive verb structure. Our sins are washed away - we don't wash them them away. Righteousness is credited to us - we don't credit it to ourselves. We are transferred into God's kingdom - we don't transfer ourselves. We are beloved children of God - He loves, we receive His love. God's favor replaces His wrath - we don't replace wrath with favor. We are filled with the Holy Spirit - we don't fill ourselves. The pattern of passive verbal structures here is relentless.

To be sure, J.D. Greear uses one active structure - "we go" from being children of death to being alive in Christ. This single exception is not enough to cause the reader to ignore the consistent pattern. The deeper structure of the sentence and paragraph allow us to conceptualize this active "go" as a passive "are moved" from one point to another. While the surface grammar may be active, the deeper semantic signification is passive.

Yet Greear is a proponent of some variety of "decision theology" - note how his verbs change when he expresses his soteriology:

It may have been a subconscious decision, but it was a decision nonetheless. In the same way, there is a moment where you transfer your hope for heaven from your own merits to Christ's substitutionary work.

Now Greear is using active verbs - humans "transfer" their hopes - and talk of a "subconscious decision" reflects a deeper semantic structure which is also active.

It is clear, then, that the active nature of God, and the passive nature of humans, pervades the salvation process so powerfully that even those who embrace "decision theology" - those who therefore seek an active role for humans in the salvation process - find passive language creeping into their texts. The hypothesis that humans are passive in the justification process has plausible and persuasive evidence.

After justification - and here one speaks of both logical and temporal posteriority - the case for an at least partially active humanity is at least possible. Key Pauline texts - Galatians 2:20 - contain enough ambiguity that the slogan "humans are passive salvation but active in sanctification" may be reasonably entertained. While complex discussions about free will may continue eternally without clear resolution, some level of consensus might be garnered for a hypothesis like this: if humans ever do have a free will, it is more likely to happen after justification than before.

Leaving the door open for the possibility that humans might be active in their sanctification, we remain firm in our conclusion that they are utterly passive in their justification. As Martin Luther wrote:

So then, do we do nothing to obtain this righteousness? No, nothing at all. Perfect righteousness is to do nothing, to hear nothing, to know nothing of the law or of works, but to know and believe only that Christ has gone to the Father and is no longer visible; that [H]e sits in heaven at the right hand of [H]is Father, not as a judge, but is made by God our wisdom, righteousness, holiness, and redemption; in short that[H]e is our high priest, entreating for us and reigning over us and in us by grace. In this heavenly righteousness sin can have no place, for there is no law; and “where there is no law there is no transgression” (Romans 4:15).

It might be objected that adopting the view of humans as completely passive in salvation obliges one either to accept a doctrine of universal salvation, or to adopt a doctrine in which God is capricious and arbitrary as He saves some but not others randomly. But the Lutheran - as we may venture to call those who insist on human passivity in justification - need not feel himself confined to either of those two options. One can argue that humans are passive in receiving salvation, but once having received it, are free to actively reject it; this would clear God of the charge of capricious arbitrariness while avoiding the bald assertion of universalism - humans are free to reject God's salvation, because His offer of it creates a moment of free will. Alternatively, the Lutheran can accept some variety of universalism, and seek some variation of universalism which might hope to avoid charges of heresy; bald universalism - the assertion that all are saved - lacks textual evidence to support it. A more nuanced universalist sentiment - the assertion that God wants all to be saved, that it is possible for all to be saved, and that we should work, hope, and pray that all are saved - are more plausibly supported from the text.

What is Marriage?

Marriage has the attention of sociologists, psychologists, theologians, legislators, and culture warriors. There is hand-wringing about the high divorce rate, the low marriage rate, infidelity and adultery, premarital sex and premarital cohabitation, and concern about the misery which might be wrought by so-called 'gay marriage'.

Yet Angst about the aberrations of, and problems with, marriage, while justified, perhaps diverts our attention from concepts which might yield the possible solutions to these problems. Instead of worrying about divorce, adultery, and homosexuality, it might be more instructive, constructive, and productive to consider what marriage is and ought to be.

What marriage is - how 'marriage' is defined - is finally something to be discovered, not invented. It is an independent fact about the universe, not a human construct. It a structural aspect of the cosmos, not a piece of legislation. The more, and the better, it is understood, the greater chance we, as a society, have of choosing healthy and wise courses of action.

In this matter, as in most others, we do not want to idolize the past: there were some bad things in the good old days. Nor do should we condemn the past: tradition carries with it a great wisdom. But we can learn from the past. In this context, Ross Douthat writes:

Before the sexual revolution, a rigorous ethic of chastity and monogamy had seemed self-evidently commonsensical even to many non-Christians. What was moral was also practical, and vice versa; so long as sex made babies, it made sense that the truly safe sex was married. Scripture and tradition supplied the Christian view of marriage, but it was the fear of illegitimacy, abandonment, and disease that made the position nearly universally respected.

The fact that we fail to live up to our ideals should be taken as confirmation that our ideals are correct. Hypocrisy is an inevitable consequence to any attempt to live ethically. To be human is to be imperfect, flawed, sinful, or corrupt. If we strive to live as we ought, we will occasionally fail. This is true of Christians in the past, in the present, and in the future. It is true of most human beings, Christian or not. Our acknowledgement of moral standards is not invalidated by our inability to maintain those standards. Our unavoidable hypocrisy does, however, oblige us to be humble - which is why arrogance is viewed harshly by Scripture.

This respect was granted in the breach as often as in the observance. In 1940 as in 2000, most Americans - male and female alike - didn't go virginal to their marriage beds. But the web of prohibitions rooted in Christian teaching had a real impact nonetheless. Before the sexual revolution, Americans waited longer to have sex, had fewer sexual partners across the course of a lifetime (less than half as many, by some estimates), and were much more likely to see premarital lovemaking as a way station on the road to wedlock rather than an end unto itself. (According to one survey, 45 percent of Americans born around 1940 married the first person they slept with, compared to just 9 percent of Americans born around 1965.) The same pattern held once the marriage was forged: infidelity and divorce were hardly unknown, but in pre-1960s America more married couples made a sustained attempt - and faced sustained social pressure, obviously - to live up to the demanding precepts of the Gospel.

Marriage as an institutional is desirable and valuable. But what precisely is it? The word 'marriage' is commonly used, and most people who utter it are under the impression that they know what it means. Yet there are many misconceptions about it. For example, marriage is not primarily legal: the notion of civil marriage arises in history chronologically after the establishment of marriage. Logically and temporally, civil marriage is posterior to marriage itself. Governmental certification and recording of marriage is an administrative convenience which facilitates inheritance laws, taxation, and civil courtroom proceedings. But a legal marriage certificate is not a marriage. At best, it corresponds to the existence of a marriage and states the existence of that marriage. At worst, which is sadly more often the case, it generates the appearance of marriage where there is no marriage.

A couple can be married with no civil certification or record of the event, but mere civil certification or recording of a marriage does not mean that marriage exists: it does not mean that the couple is in fact married. Some, possibly many, couples aren't really 'married' in the truest sense of the word - i.e., a mutually supportive, respectful, and affectionate relationship with unconditional commitment to set the other's interest ahead of one's own. Such couples may well have a valid marriage license from the government, enjoy the legal, civil, and social status of a married couple, and have a grand wedding celebration in a church. But if a covenant relationship does not exist between husband and wife, and if that covenant is not understood as divinely instituted, then there is no marriage.

Marriage cannot be understood as a human construction, because humans are essentially imperfect and finite. The grade scale of the marriage covenant necessitates that it be superhuman in origin. In his commentary on the second chapter of Genesis, Martin Luther, contrasting the breeding of farm animals to human marriage, writes:

But among men the nature of marriage is different. There the wife so binds herself to a man that she will be about him and will live together with him as one flesh. If Adam had persisted in the state of innocence, this intimate relationship of husband and wife would have been most delightful. The very work of procreation also would have been most sacred and would have been held in esteem. There would not have been that shame stemming from sin which there is now, when parents are compelled to hide in darkness to do this. No less respectability would have attached to cohabitation than there is to sleeping, eating, or drinking with one's wife.

While Luther, in his idiosyncratic fashion, perhaps overstates the concept of shame in relation to sexuality, his points that sex, prior to the fall, is a holy and honorable activity, and that marriage has been damaged by the fall, stand. Sexual activity, in the context of a true marriage, is still honorable and holy; but the imperfection of the world and of the people in the world makes it persistently difficult for the human mind, heart, and will to conceptualize marital love and sex as that pure and holy thing. The mind of man is perpetually tempted to view marriage and sex through the lens of lust, and thereby see it as a shameful thing. In a fallen world, marriage can only exist through divine intervention.

Eve is brought to him by God Himself. Therefore just as God's will is ready to establish marriage, so Adam is ready to receive Eve with the greatest pleasure and innocency. Thus even now the bridegroom has a surpassing affection for the bride, yet it is contaminated by that leprous lust of the flesh which was not present in righteous Adam.

Luther again overemphasizes the fallen aspects of sexual desire. In fallen marriage, there is, to be sure, the danger of a man seeing sexual activity as merely the way in which his desires can be gratified. In the godly concept of marriage, sex is a celebration of the couple's mutual love and affection, and is a gift which each gives to the other.

But it is most worthy of wonder that when Adam looks at Eve as a building made from himself, he immediately recognizes her and says: "This now is bone from my bones and flesh from my flesh." These are words, not of a stupid or a sinful human being who has no insight into the works and creatures of God, but of a righteous and wise being, one filled with the Holy Spirit. He reveals a wisdom hitherto unknown to the world: that the effecting cause of the wife and of marriage is God, but that the final cause is for the wife to be a mundane dwelling place to her husband. This knowledge is not simply the product of intelligence and reason; it is a revelation of the Holy Spirit.

Marriage, like the human soul, was created perfect and sinless, suffered damage in the fall, and is being restored by God. The fallen version of marriage - in which the option exists for one party to exploit or mistreat the other, in which betrayal and infidelity can occur, in which it is possible to be less than fully and affectionately supported and respected - this fallen manifestation of marriage often captures the world's attention, and falsely presents itself as true marriage, whereas it is in fact a damaged and counterfeit image of marriage.

True marriage is something to which no honest and intelligent person could object, and something which no honest or intelligent person, finding himself in such relationship, could want to leave. This is not to say that marriage is mandatory or to be universally required. There are some who are so constructed that lifelong virginity is a good fit for their mentalities. God has constructed each soul uniquely; not everyone should be married and not everyone should be single. It does seem that the overwhelming majority of humans are designed for marriage, and a relatively small percentage for lifelong celibacy.

But the point is this: marriage, properly understood, repaired by God from the damage sustained in the fall, and empowered by God to be something beyond the capabilities of human effort. Who could not find comfort, being in a relationship in which another has unconditionally pledged to devote his being to the effort to aid and assist? A woman who knows that her husband has constructed his life around his pledge to help and care for her; a man who knows that his wife directs her thoughts and activities toward supporting and respecting him; husband and wife know and rely on each other's absolute and unconditional faithfulness - to reject an institution of this nature would be irrational and masochistic.

The marriage of man and woman was divinely ordained. But how deformed it is now after sin! How our very flesh is kindled with passion! And so now, after sin, this union does not take place in public like a work of God; but respectable married people look for solitary places far away from from the eyes of men. Thus we have a body, but what a wretched one and how damaged in various ways! We also have a will and a reason, but how depraved in many ways!

A society or culture which loses this concept of marriage does infinite damage to itself and to its members. The New Testament quotes the Old no less than three times in this singular formulation: "That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh."

Debates and discussions about the all-too-high divorce rate, or about the chimera of 'gay' marriage, are certainly necessary discussions to have. But we miss the point if we assume that merely reducing the divorce rate and avoiding the inhumanity of same-sex marriage is the goal. The goal is better and higher. The goal is to ensure that the institution of marriage is understood and embodied among us.

This begins, not by avoiding divorce, and not by avoiding gay marriage, but with those couples who are widely supposed - by themselves, by the government, and by others - to be married, who may have lived together for years, who may have children, and who may in fact deal with one another in a friendly fashion: this begins by ensuring that what appears to be marriage is in fact marriage. Whether a couple is already married, or whether they intend to be married, instruction about the nature of marriage is necessary; instruction, even better, for those who have not yet even met a potential spouse, instruction about the nature of marriage, so that they have a clear and correct concept of marriage when they do finally meet their future spouses. Problems of adultery and divorce would largely - though not entirely - be avoided by creating healthy and wise marriages in the first place.

The advantages to children of being raised by a truly married couple will be clear to the thoughtful reader; the disadvantages of illegitimate birth likewise obvious.

Those who worry about marriage and the state of society are correct to do so; society will naturally benefit as a consequence when more couples are in a true state of marriage. Instructing young men and women about what marriage is, and what it is not, is a necessary step. Understanding that a good marriage is not possible through human effort alone, but rather requires divine intervention, is also necessary; we may assume that such divine intervention also occurs in marriages among non-believers, or at least state clearly that there is no reason to assume that it does not exist. Addressing the intellect alone does not suffice; the heart and will must also be engaged. To that end, we petition the Holy Spirit.

Hebrew Anthropology and Semitic Mystical Union

When investigating the topic of 'union with God,' encountering heterodox authors is a certainty. Yet we need not shy away from this theme, nor fear perusing the texts of such thinkers. Scripture remains the steady guide, and heterodox authors, by definition, contain elements of truth, and so it is that one sifts the wheat from the chaff.

Christian psychology, on average, is more comfortable with the topic of 'communion with God' than with the topic of 'union' with God. Humans are, after all, something other than, and something separate from, God. To commune with God - to be in community with God - is a straightforward concept, attested by Scripture, the early church, the modern church, and by one's own experience. To be in 'union' with God, however, is a concept so foreign, and so easily twisted into heresy, that one hesitates to entertain it.

In the New Testament, Peter declares, "I am a sinful man!" (Luke 5:8), emphasizing his otherness, his separation from God, while at the same time confessing Jesus as divine. While doctrines of salvation and justification and sanctification resolve our separation from God, it is not at all clear that they resolve our being 'other' than God. After all, He is the Creator, and we are creatures.

So we explore what scholars have written on the topic. Theologian Frank Seilhamer, while possibly heterodox, conducts careful textual study on the topic, and writes:

Anyone who reads the Old Testament with perception, and comes to grips with Luther's theology, cannot fail to see that for each God is no far-off deity, worshiped at a distance, and operative in his universe and world only as an impersonal Principle! He is a God who is personally, and continually, in touch with man right where man lives.

God is immanent as well as transcendent. As omnipresent, He is everywhere, and so He is in places far from us. As sinless and holy, He is above us and wholly other (Isaiah 55:9). As omniscient, His consciousness are knowledge are greater than ours both in degree and in kind. Yet as omnipresent, He is always with us. As omniscient, He knows our thoughts. As incarnate, He experiences what it is to live in flesh. His indwelling of us - fueled by Word and Sacrament - is the most intense form of His immanence.

The pages of the Old Testament throb with a sense of the nearness of God. Yahweh speaks to man, walks with him, leads him, and at times chastens him. While "Holy," and in many ways "Other," he is a God who has his feet "on the ground" he created. Yahweh is always where man is, rather than spinning around the spheres in splendid isolation.

Yet the phrase 'mystical union' nudges the reader to something more than immediacy or immanence. The marriage metaphor - in the Old Testament prophets and the New Testament Pauline epistles - plays off the phrase 'the two shall become one flesh' (Gen. 2:23, Matt. 19:5, Mark 10:8, Eph. 5:31). The number of times the phrase is used indicates intentionality. Paul explicitly tells us, first, that it is a mystery, and second, that 'it refers to Christ and the church' (Eph. 5:32). Likewise, the pervasive power of the marriage allegory in the prophets begs the reader to render the words into an understanding more direct than allegorical. In a complex passage (Malachi 2:10 through 2:16), the violated marriages of the nation to God and of a man to his wife become so enmeshed with each other that their two separate violations are one. Thus the word 'union' comes into play, describing a relationship between God and man in which God is indeed immanent, but more than immanent.

Luther's writings, too, are filled with the same understanding of God. For the Reformer, God is one who is able to communicate with him within arm's reach. Whether in the Sacrament of the Altar, in the mouths of preachers, or in the middle of a farmer's field, God is never separated from man by distance. God is nearer than hands and feet.

Logically entailed by this relationship is communication. A 'mystical union' with God would mean receiving messages from Him, and immediately so. These messages are not only without mediation, but presumably frequent and rich in content.

Because of this awareness of the presence of God, both the Semites and Luther lived with

the expectation and with the habit of receiving such messages. Dialogue with the Deity would be routine under such circumstances. Believers live with open

ears and opened eyes to hear and watch for the personal activity of God, and its significance for them. Whatever hardships they had to endure, each was undergirded by the belief that God was never out of ear-shot, nor too far away to help. God was an ever-present reality. He was personally involved in his world and their destinies. This assurance added a dimension to their lives that is often missing from the lives of men who think of God as nothing more than a remote "First Cause" or "Eternal Principle," if they think of him at all.

A Semitic worldview rules out both a mind-body substance dualism, like Descartes posits, and a materialism, like Marx posits. It also rules out an idealism like Berkeley's. For the Hebrew, the physical body and the metaphysical soul were not merely related, as in a Cartesian system, but rather were united. This prevents the Semitic thinker from treating the mind separately from the body (or the soul or the spirit or the heart), yet allows an acknowledgement of the distinction between the physical and the metaphysical.

To the primitive Semites, man was conceived of as a physic, and physical, whole. Differing from Platonic philosophy with its dichotomy of body and soul, the ancient Hebrew made no distinction between the psychical and the physical in human personality. As Johs. Pedersen, H. Wheeler Robinson, and Aubrey Johnson have pointed out, in Israelite thought psychical functions have physical basis, so that man is conceived of, not in some analytical fashion as "soul" and "body," but synthetically, as a psychical whole.

Given the nature of the Semitic worldview and the Hebrew metaphysical schema, vocabulary stumbles in translation. The Hebrew word often rendered into English as 'soul' does not comfortably fit into that English-language category. The word is nefesh, and as Seilhamer notes, doesn't easy denote a substance or object which is totally distinct from physical objects.

Thus while the Hebrew refused to divide the nefesh into body-soul categories he did maintain that the nefesh in its "fullness," could extend itself in time and space. Since the Hebrew could not split the personality, wherever the nefesh could be extended there the "whole" man was assumed to be, in all his power, authority, and responsibility. Whether it was his word, his children, his kinsmen, his name, or his possessions, he had a channel through which he himself, as a person, not a disembodied "soul," could be present to act and be acted upon.

Having conceptualized the human soul as something which doesn't easily fit either into the category of physical objects, or into the category of metaphysical objects, and which yet somehow (not easily) fits into both categories, it is not surprising that the Semites thought that God Himself likewise might be not exactly metaphysical, and not exactly physical, and yet somewhat both. In this murky Hebrew ontology, notions like a 'mystical union' seem more possible - if less intelligible - than in the metaphysics of Thomist Scholasticism.

What the Hebrews believed about the extendibility of the human nefesh was paralleled by a like concept about the extension of the divine Personality. Holding to the premise that God had created man in his image, they found nothing incongruous in applying to God attributes and characteristics that were common to themselves.

The notion of a 'mystical union' is made possible, in part, by the fact that the Semitic worldview sees God as so closely connected with His creation that He does more than use it to achieve His goals; He inhabits His creation, and the actions performed by His creation are extensions of His actions. The creation is more than an implement or tool, used in an instrumental fashion by God. It is a garment worn by God. One can veer dangerously close to pantheism in such thoughts; so let us deliberately state that we are not dabbling in pantheism. But one walks a tightrope over a sea of heresy when one explores the topic of a 'mystical union' with God.

Thus, as the nefesh of man was able to reach beyond the contours of the body, God was able to extend himself through various media. Whatever he created could be, and often was, a vehicle through which the Creator manifested himself to his creation. God was not an impersonal, static, far-off "concept" or "idea." The "God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob" was a personal, dynamic, ever-present, ever-working, ever-speaking deity who was constantly involved in the activity of the men he made!

Language both limits and forms our concept of God and of our relation to Him. God is "with" us, and He is "in" us. We are "in" Him. Prepositions are originally and primarily spatial, but in such discourse, the meaning is not spatial, or at least not primarily so. God is not "in" me the way my sandwich, which I ate five minutes ago, is "in" me. I am not "in" God in the same manner in which I am "in" my house. God is "with" us, but not as our fellow hikers are "with" us on a hike through the countryside.

Whether the Hebrews were in Egypt or Babylonia, whether they were were sojourning in the desert or settled in Canaan, whether they were were in bondage or free, Yahweh was where they were. In objects, people, even the declaration of his name in the benedictions pronounced over the people, the Lord made himself present with his people. Though no object could be said to "hold" God in the sense that the creation could capture Yahweh and make the Creator synonymous with the creation, nevertheless, in as many ways as there were creations God could, and did, draw near and stand personally before, and among, his own family. Be it the Ark, the Tent of Meeting, the prophets and judges of Israel, or angels, the Hebrews were sure that God could make his power and presence known and real. However different God might be in essence from man, God always was personally with man, whatever his lot and wherever he lived it.

Understanding our presence with God, and God's presence with us, and our communion with each other, is a step on the road to understanding a 'mystical union' with Him.

To understand the theology of Luther one must inevitably come to grips with his concept of the "Word of God." For the doctrine of the "Word" is the centerpole around which his entire theological system resolves. It has been said that the "Word" is the integrating principle for all his writings and thought. Indeed, one prominent scholar has said that, "he lived by the 'Word of God' he lived for the 'Word of God.' It is no mistake, the, when interpreters of Luther take his doctrine of the 'Word of God' as one of the most important keys to his theology."

Returning to the linguistic focus, the preposition 'in' occupies a central role in Scripture's explanation of its own role: the Christian is "in" God's Word (John 8:31), and God's Word is "in" the Christian (John 15:7). This same preposition is likewise central to the conceptualization of the Sacraments: the Body and Blood of Jesus are, in Luther's famous formulation, "in, with, and under" the bread and wine, and that Presence is in the believer who has received the Sacrament.

So, in the Sacraments as in the Scriptures and in the ministry of preaching, Luther sees God himself personally present, operative, saving, enlightening and strengthening man. That God chooses to use these varied "masks" to impart his own undivided Majesty can only be attributed to the Divine generosity and love, which employs as many avenues as necessary to carry out his work. Wherever the "Word" is "spoken," through whatever "mask," it is the same God who "speaks," and in each case, the content of his "speaking" is the same, God himself stands before man.

Entailed by the Semitic refusal to draw a clear boundary between the physical and the metaphysical, the Hebrew worldview deliberately blurs the line between the concept of God and the physical active presence of God.

For both the ancient Hebrews and Luther God was no static academic "concept." When they spoke of the "word" of this God they were referring to nothing less than the amazing creative, redemptive activity of Yahweh himself among his people. The "word" was a vital, rich, dynamic Presence that undergirded all that existed. The "word" was the one, true, all-powerful, all-loving God in action.

Whether or not one goes so far as to say that the Semitic ontology is monist, or whether one wishes merely to say that the Hebrew worldview refuses to make a clear distinction between the physical and the metaphysical, or between the concept of God and the physical actions undertaken by God, its anti-Platonism sets the stage for the concept of a 'mystical union' between God and the believer. A Platonic scheme would not only make the union impossible, it would make it unintelligible. Joseph Stump writes:

There is a mystical union of God and the believer, which is taught in the Scriptures and experienced by the Christian, but which is difficult to describe. Chronologically its beginning coincides with regeneration and justification; logically it follows upon them, and forms the next stage in the order of salvation. It is not to be interpreted as simply an activity of God in us, but possesses the nature of a personal fellowship (I John 1:3). God lives in the believer, and the believer in God. It is the starting point and living source of that progressive sanctification which begins in the justified man and continues to be end of his earthly life.

Again, close reading of Scripture draws our attention to the language of relation. Joseph Stump reviews the evidence from the text: the preposition 'in' continues to play a central role, but 'with' is also important:

The Scriptures teach not only that by faith man is justified and forgiven, but that Christ dwells in him, and through Christ the Holy Trinity. St. Paul declares of Christians that they are in Christ (Rom. 8:1) and again that Christ is in them (Gal. 2:20). They live in fellowship or communion with God (I John 1:3). Not only does the Holy Spirit dwell and work within them, so that they have the earnest of the Spirit in their hearts (I Cor. 1:22), the witness of the Spirit that they are God's children (Rom. 8:16) and the sealing with the Spirit of promise (Eph. 1:13), but the Father and the Son also come to believers and take their abode in them (John 14:23). Christ is in the believers (Col. 1:27) and they in him (Rom. 8:1). As many as have been baptized into Him have put on Christ (Gal. 3:27) and are in the Lord (Rom. 16:11) and are made nigh because they are in Him (Eph. 2:13) and are free from condemnation (Rom. 8:1). They are members of His body, of His flesh and of His bones (Eph. 5:30), members of Christ (I Cor. 6:15) and partakers of the divine nature (II Pet. 1:4). Christ lives in them (Gal. 2:20) and dwells in their hearts by faith (Eph. 3:17), is in them (Rom. 8:10), and is to be formed in them (Gal. 4:19). The believers are members His body (Rom. 12:4,5); they are united with Him as the branch with the vine (John 15:5), and their life is His life flowing through them.

The mystical union, precisely because it is mystical, defies, according to Stump, precise formulation. Prepositions like 'in' or 'with' and other parts of speech are approximations, metaphors, or allegories. Just as a word like 'beauty' or 'harmony' cannot fully transmit the experience of viewing a painting or hearing a song, respectively, so also the mystical union cannot be fully communicated in words.

This union, as its name indicates, is a mystery. It is experienced by the believer, but cannot adequately be put into words. The fullness of the experience is proportioned to the degree of faith and sanctification. The union is established when the sinner comes to faith and is justified, and grows more close, intimate, and strength-giving as his sanctification increases. The spiritual life which he leads has its source and vitality in Christ. Believers live in Christ, and He in them, and His life flows into and through them. Without Him they can do nothing (John 15:5).

Perhaps precisely because it defies formulation, dogmatic and systematic theologians have avoided detailed discussion of the mystic union. Anticipating Wittgenstein, they are silent about it, and by describing carefully everything else, reflect in their careful omissions what it is. Sometimes more is revealed in what is not said than in what is said.

This doctrine is not contained in the Augsburg Confession or in the Apology; and the Formula of Concord barely touches it. It was developed by the later dogmaticians, Calovius, Quenstedt, Koenig and Hollazius, to guard against the pantheistic conceptions of the mystics, and at the same time to do justice to the partial truth contained in false doctrines of Schwenkfeld, Weigel and Osiander. The Formula of Concord does not develop the idea of the mystical union, but has this to say: "For although in the elect, who are justified by Christ and reconciled with God, God the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, who is eternal and essential righteousness, dwells by faith (for all Christians are temples of God the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, who also impels them to do right); yet this indwelling of God is not the righteousness of faith of which Paul treats and which he calls the righteousness of God; but it follows the preceding righteousness of faith, which is nothing else than the forgiveness of sins and the gracious acceptance of the poor sinner alone for the sake of Christ's obedience and merit" (579, 54). It rejects the teaching "that not God Himself but only the gifts of God dwell in the believer" (581,65). The mystical union is defined by Hollazius as "the spiritual union of the Triune God with the justified man, by which He dwells in him as in a consecrated temple with a special presence, and that a substantial one, and operates in him by a gracious influx" (p. 932)

Transitioning from the theologians to the mystics, we look at San Juan de la Cruz - also known as 'St. John of the Cross' - and his writings. In his book The Ascent of Mount Carmel, which takes the form of a commentary on another his works, The Dark Night of the Soul, he describes a process in which the soul becomes that which participates in a mystical union. As the soul rejects anything which competes with God for its loyalty, as the soul cleanses itself of any traces which those idolatrous competitors with God might have left in it, and as it attains to a new understanding of and love for God, it becomes so close to God that it might become a reflection of Him — as Leibniz might say, the identity of indiscernibles. To be sure, the soul cannot 'cleanse itself' - God must cleanse it. But we will interpret him charitably:

By these three things it is signified that any soul that will ascend this mount in order to make of itself an altar whereon it may offer to God the sacrifice of pure love and praise and pure reverence, must, before ascending to the summit of the mount, have done these three things aforementioned perfectly. First, it must cast away all strange gods — namely, all strange affections and attachments; secondly, it must purify itself of the remnants which the desires aforementioned have left in the soul, by means of the dark night of sense whereof we are speaking, habitually denying them and repenting itself of them; and thirdly, in order to reach the summit of this high mount, it must have changed its garments, which, through its observance of the first two things, God will change for it, from old to new, by giving it a new understanding of God in God, the old human understanding being cast aside; and a new love of God in God, the will being now stripped of all its old desires and human pleasures, and the soul being brought into a new state of knowledge and profound delight, all other old images and forms of knowledge having been cast away, and all that belongs to the old man, which is the aptitude of the natural self, quelled, and the soul clothed with a new supernatural aptitude with respect to all its faculties. So that its operation, which before was human, has become Divine, which is that that is attained in the state of union, wherein the soul becomes naught else than an altar whereon God is adored in praise and love, and God alone is upon it.

The mystical union with God, then, might be seen in Jeremiah's imagery of the potter, or in Isaiah's image of refining: as the soul of the believer is continually sanctified, it becomes ever more Christlike. As it becomes more like Jesus, it shares His characteristics, and sheds qualities which He does not have. Although not a strict ontological union, the soul which has been so formed and reformed will be so much in harmony, so much in sync, with God that it will indeed feel - the word word 'feel' reflects the experiential nature of the concept of the mystical union - a unity with God.