Exegesis and Theology

The Blog of Brian Collins

Was Eden a Temple?

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img_3163Tim Challies reviewed today a book by J. Daniel Hays on the tabernacle and temple. From Challies’s review, the book looks good, and I’ve added it to my notes on the tabernacle and temple. But according to Challies Hays makes a claim that seems to have become a commonplace among biblical scholars:

Hays begins in the Garden of Eden which so many scholars understand as its own kind of temple.

There are certainly strong connections between the garden and the tabernacle and temple, but I wonder if scholars are not being careful enough when the actually identify the garden as a temple.

beale_temple1I first encountered this idea when reading G. K. Beale’s book, The Temple and the Church’s Mission, part of the New Studies in Biblical Theology Series. I was less than persuaded by Beale’s argument. Later I found that Daniel Block, writing in a festschrift for Beale, also has some reservations about this thesis.

Beale’s argument for an Edenic temple can be summarized from the following headings in The Temple and the Church’s Mission (66-75): (1) “The Garden as the unique place of God’s presence,” (2) “The Garden as the place of the first priest,” (3) “The Garden as the place of the first guarding cherubim,” (4) “The Garden as the place of the first arboreal lampstand,” (5) “The Garden as formative for garden imagery in Israel’s temple,” (6) “Eden as the first source of water,” (7) “Eden as the place of precious stones,” (8) “The Garden as the place of the first mountain,” (8) “The Garden as the first place of wisdom,” (9) “The Garden as part of a tripartite sacred structure,” (10) “Ezekiel’s view of the Garden of Eden as the first sanctuary.”

I would respond as follows:

(1) The presence of God is the chief actual parallel. But to argue that God’s presence in Eden makes Eden a temple is to mistake the reality for the symbol. The temple is needed as a symbol of God’s presence because the reality of God’s presence has been withdrawn due to sin. When the reality is fully restored, then the need for the symbol passes away (Rev. 21:22). Thus when the reality was present in the past, there was no need for the symbol. Because the reality of God’s presence was found in Eden, Eden was not a temple. The symbol was not needed.

(2) Beale concludes from the occurrence of עבד and שׁמר in Genesis 2:10 that Adam is pictured as a priest since when these words “occur together in the Old Testament . . . , they refer either to Israelites ‘serving’ God and ‘guarding [keeping]’ God’s word . . . or to priests who ‘keep’ the ‘service’ (or ‘charge’) of the tabernacle (see Num. 3:7-8; 8:25-26; 18:5-6; 1 Chr. 23:32; Ezek. 44:14)” (67). However, this is a decontextualized reading of these terms. Beale concedes, “It is true that the Hebrew word usually translated ‘cultivate’ can refer to an agricultural task when used by itself (e.g., 2:5; 3:23)” (67). In the context of Adam being placed in a garden because the garden needed a man for certain kinds of plants to grow (2:5), it is contextually more likely that these words refer to “an agricultural task.” Daniel Block rightly observes, “Lacking other clear signals it is inappropriate to read back into this collocation cultic significance from later texts (e.g., Nm 3:7-8; 8:26; 18:5-6). The conjunction of verbs עבד . . . and שׁמר . . . in association with the tabernacle suggests that priestly functions were reminiscent of humankind’s role in the garden, but the reverse is unwarranted” (Daniel I. Block, “Eden: A Temple? A Reassessment of the Biblical Evidence,” in From Creation to New Creation: Biblical Theology and Exegesis: Essays in Honor of G. K. Beale, eds. Daniel M. Gurtner and Benjamin L. Gladd [Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2013], 10-12).

(3) Since the cherubim are placed to guard the garden only after Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden, their presence on the tabernacle curtains is probably an indication that the way to God is still barred for sinful humans rather than an indication that Eden was a temple.

(4, 5, 6) While it may be true that the lampstand symbolized the tree of life (I am inclined to think so), and while the lampstand and other parts of the tabernacle make use of garden imagery, this only demonstrates that the tabernacle and temple looked back to Eden. It does not demonstrate that Eden was a temple. Likewise with prophetic promise that a river will flow from the temple. Speaking of the river, Block says, “While these images derive from Gn 2:10-14, without the later adaption we would not think of looking for a sanctuary here” (13). Again, to conclude otherwise confuses the reality and the symbol.

(7) Beale says that the Garden is “the place of precious stones,” but the text places the stones outside of Eden in the land of Havilah. Rather than a temple connection, it is contextually more likely that a connection exists back to Genesis 1:28 and the blessing of human rule over the earth. The rivers are highways into the wider world and in those lands are natural resources to be harnessed, such a gold, a standard medium of exchange. Also, Block notes that Bdellium “probably does not refer to a precious stone” and that it is not associated with the high priest’s breastplate. Onyx is connected to “the priestly vestments,” but not exclusively so (13-14).

(8) Block says on this score, “As noted earlier, while the HB [Hebrew Bible] never associates wisdom with the priesthood, its significance for kingship is explicitly declared in Prv 8:12-21 (especially vv. 15-16). . . . To associate the wisdom motif with the law stored inside the Holy of Holies and eating the forbidden fruit with touching the ark is farfetched and anachronistic” (15-16).

(9) Beale’s attempt to connect the structure of the Garden with the structure of the tabernacle falters on the fact that the river does not flow from a holy of holies within the garden but from the broader land of Eden in which the garden is placed (Gen. 3:10).

(10) The argument from Ezekiel 28:18 is difficult to sustain. It seems best to understand Ezekiel as drawing a parallel between the king of Tyre and the cherub who was in Eden just as in the previous passage Tyre had been spoken of in terms of a sunken ship. Beale wishes to identify the cherub as Adam, but it is more likely that the cherub should be identified as Satan, as cherubs are angelic beings, not human beings. Finally, Beale wishes to identify the sanctuaries of Ezekiel 28:18 with Eden. Not only does the plural pose a problem (if there is precedent for identifying that courtyard, holy place, and holy of holies as separate sanctuaries, Beale does not provide it), but this profanation is connected to “the unrighteousness of your trade.” Thus the profanation of the sanctuaries is probably referring directly to the king of Tyre and not to an event that happened in Eden.

I think Block rightly captures the proper interpretation:

In my response to reading Gn 1-3 as temple-building texts, I have hinted at the fundamental hermeneutical problem involved in this approach. The question is, should we read Gn 1-3 in the light of later texts, or should we read later texts in light of these? If we read the accounts of the order given, then the creation account provides essential background to primeval history, which provides background for the patriarchal, exodus, and tabernacle narratives. By themselves and by this reading the accounts of Gn 1-3 offer no clues that a cosmic or Edenic temple might be involved. However, as noted above, the Edenic features of the tabernacle, the Jerusalem temple, and the temple envisioned by Ezekiel are obvious. Apparently their design and function intended to capture something of the original environment in which human beings were placed. However, the fact that Israel’s sanctuaries were Edenic does not make Eden into a sacred shrine. At best this is a nonreciprocating equation. (20-21)

In sum, though the tabernacle and temple looked back to the garden of Eden and the loss of the presence of God that occurred with humanity’s exile from the garden, the garden itself was not a temple. In the grand scheme of things, this is not a major difference of interpretation, but it is still worth maintaing precision in our understanding of these foundational parts of Scripture.

Thoughts on VanDoodewaard’s Quest for the Historical Adam

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VanDoodewaard, William. The Quest for the Historical Adam: Genesis, Hermeneutics, and Human Origins. Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage, 2015.

VanDoodewaard provides a helpful survey of views about Genesis, Creation, and Adam from the time of the church fathers until the present. He holds to a young earth and a normal day creation, but most of the book is simply a very helpful summarizing of viewpoints.

In reading the book, I concluded that some of the criticisms that I read of this book were off mark. For instance, VanDoodewaard has been critiqued for describing his view as literal, and I did once see him describe a view positively as literalistic. But he notes toward the beginning of the book the various ways the word literal can be used and how he is going to use it.I think since VanDoodewaard expresses awareness of the various ways this term can be used and specifies how he is using it, he should not be critiqued on this point (further, reviewers should provide his working definition if they use the word in the review to describe his position).

I came to a similar conclusion regarding his discussion of racism on the part of evolutionists but not on the part of creationists. If my memory serves me correctly, he alludes to the racism on the part of some creationists, but he does not discuss it because it does not flow from their view of creation as the racism of certain evolutionists did. I think these criticisms are simply asking VanDoodewaard to write a different book than he intended to write.

I do, however, wish that he had provided more information on the motivations of those who were abandoning a literal interpretation of Genesis prior to Darwin. They obviously were not motivated by a desire to accommodate themselves to Darwinism, but they did seem to be influenced by Enlightenment thought. Knowing precisely what it was that motivated these changes in interpretation would have been useful.

Also, VanDoodewaard strongly critiqued Kuyper, Bavinck, and Schilder for acknowledging that the first three days of creation could have been longer or shorter than ordinary days, implying that this set a slippery slope for compromise in the next generation. I didn’t quite follow this argumentation, since these men were not saying (in fact, they explicitly denied) that these first three days were long ages. It seems to me that they were simply saying that since there was no sun until day 4, perhaps the first three days could have been only 18 hours long or 36 hours long. I don’t see a reason to adopt this supposition, but it seems in line enough with an ordinary day view of the creation week that I felt like I was missing the information on how this position led to compromise. Were there other aspects to it?

These quibbles aside, however, I highly commend VanDoodewaard’s work. His historical work is careful and accurate. His understanding of the issues invovled and the significance of the views taken is incisive.

Poythress on “Correlations with Providence in Genesis 1”

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Poythress, Vern S. “Correlations with Providence in Genesis 1,” WTJ 77 (2015): 71-99.

160px-Westminster_Theological_JournalThis article is the second in a recent trilogy of articles by Poythress on the opening chapters of Genesis. The heart of the article is a step through the creation week with particular attention given to correlations between God’s creation activity and normal providence. For instance, in normal providence heavy rains may cause water to cover dry land. Later the water recedes to show the dry land. This ordinary providence aligns with God’s causing the dry land to appear out of the water in creation. Or, God specially created the animals, but animals are “created” providentially though the normal processes of birth. I thought that Poythress sometimes showed real correlations between creation and providence, but other times I thought he was trying too hard. For instance, he sees a correlation between the original gift of food to eat in Genesis 1:29 and eating of plants today by humans. However, this is a stretch because God’s speech is looking beyond the creation week to the future. It’s not clear that something beyond ordinary providence was ever intended.

Poythress draws two conclusions from his observations regarding correlations between creation and providence. First, he looks at ANE creation myths and their similarities to the Genesis account. After noting that the differences between Genesis and the myths are far greater than the similarities, Poythress posits that many of the existing similarities developed as pagans  shaped their creation myths from observations of a providentially ordered world—a providential ordering that God had correlated with the true creation. This is an intriguing thought, but it would have been nice of Poythress had worked through some specific examples.

In conjunction with this first conclusion, Poythress considers John Walton’s claim that the creation account is concerned with functional rather than material creation. Poythress notes that his emphasis on correlations with providence has a functional bent to it, but he denies that this means that material creation is excluded from the account. The material creation is necessary for there to be functions.

Second, Poythress concludes that the days of creation are functional days rather than a week of six normal days. He says that since God rested from creation on the seventh day, the day of God’s rest is everlasting. This seems to be to be an unwarranted assumption. God’s rest from creation may be everlasting, but it does not follow from this that the seventh day is everlasting. In addition, I’m not sure how to make sense of the claim that the days of the creation week are somehow “God’s days,” days that are only analogous to human days in normal providence. God is eternal and, as I understand eternity, there are no successive God-days for human days to be analogous to. Nor is there anything in the text of Genesis to indicate that the first week is different from succeeding weeks in human history. Just because some things in the creation week are analogous to ordinary providence (e.g., special creation of animals correlates to the birth of animals) does not mean that the water of Genesis 1 is only analogous to water in ordinary providence (as Poythress suggested of Genesis 1:2) or that the days of Genesis 1 are only analogous to ordinary days.

I found Poythress’s first conclusion intriguing but in need of further support. I found his second conclusion less than persuasive.

Romans 16:7 and The Nature of Theology: Brief Notes on Some Recent Reading

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CPJ-11-FrontCover-forCBMcGraw, Ryan, trans. “Johannes Wollebius’s Paecognita of Christian Theology from Compendiusm Theologiae Christianae,” Confessional Presbyterian 11 (2015).

Excellent discussion of the definition and nature of theology along with a defense of canonical Scripture as the sufficient and final theological authority.

Burer, Michael. “ΈΠΙΣΗΜΟΙ ΈΝ ΤΟΙΣ ΆΠΟΣΤΟΛΟΙΣ in Rom 16:7 as ‘Well Known to the Apostles’: Further Defense and New Evidence,” JETS 58, no. 4 (December 2015): 731-55.

JETS_LogoThe thesis of Burer and Wallace in their NTS article is that one should take “ἐπίσημος genitive as inclusive (e.g., ‘notable among’)” and ἐπίσημος plus (ἐν plus) dative as exclusive (e.g., ‘well known to’).” (JETS 58, no. 4, p. 755). In his JETS article Burer responds to critiques of their thesis to show that it still holds and brings forth additional evidence from Greek literature to demonstrate that this pattern holds.

Does Romans 4:13 Expand the Land Promise?

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Hsieh, Nelson S. “Abraham as ‘Heir of the World’: Does Romans 4:13 Expand the Old Testament Abrahamic Land Promises?” Master’s Seminary Journal 26, no. 1 (Spring 2015): 95-110.

Hsieh notes the tendency of non-dispensationalsits to move away from allegorical or spiritualizing arguments which state that the church has replaced Israel and to move toward arguments that the promises, such as the land promise, have been expanded beyond Israel in the NT to include the whole church and the whole world. Thus the land promise for Israel is fulfilled not in the restoration of the nation of Israel to a land but in the blessing of the new earth for all of God’s people.220px-Gold_TMS_Logo

Romans 4:13 is one of a handful of texts used to make a case for this perspective. Hsieh notes, however, that this text is employed with little argumentation. Proponents typically assume that it teaches the extension of the land promise. Those who do argue for this view typically appeal to second temple literature that expands the land promise to encompass the world. In response, Hsieh argues that the second temple literature does not have a uniform position on the land promise. Some literature does extend the promise to the world while other literature sees a localized fulfillment for the nation of Israel. What is more, at least in Jubilees, the expansion of the land promise to the world is held alongside the view that Israel rules over the nations of the world from its own land.

Hsieh proposes a different interpretation. He argues that contextually Paul defines the promise noted in 4:13 “in terms of Abraham becoming the father of many nations and having innumerable descendants (vv. 17-18)” (107). To be heir of the world thus means that Abraham is heir of a seed from many nations who have faith in God as he did. Not only does this reading make better sense of the context, but also, Hsieh argues, because this is a promise that Abraham believed. Abraham knew of the promise that he would be the father of many nations. Abraham did not know (and thus could not believe) and expanded land promise. Hsieh closes his article by making the case that κόσμος and κληρονόμος can refer to seed and need not point to the land promise.

I think that Hsieh mounts a good argument for his position, and he may well be right about this text. However, as he indicates at the close of his article, other texts are also in play in this discussion and in need of more careful study. I’m not convinced that his major concern (which I share) is harmed if some of these texts do validate the thesis that the land promise is expanded. Psalm 72:8 expands the land promise within the Old Testament itself. Indeed, this expansion may go back to Abraham himself. In Genesis 22:17, God promises that Abraham’s seed will possess the gates of their enemies. Linked tightly to this promise is the promise that in Abraham’s seed all the nations of the earth will be blessed (22:18). If these promises are meant to be tightly linked, the promise of 22:17 would not be limited to the conquest of Canaan but would be extended to the reign of the Messianic King over all the nations. Further, if the expansion of the land promise to the nations extends all the way back to Abraham itself, then the expansion need not be played off against the specific land promises given to Israel (and Hsieh’s suvey of Jubilees shows that at least in one text it was not). It is, after all, an Israelite king that rules from Jerusalem over all the nations. If other nations exist in their lands under the Messianic king, why not allow a restoration of Israel to its land under the Messianic king? Finally, Hsieh may be correct that Romans 4:13 does not contribute to an expansion of the land promise theme, but if my proposal is correct, Abraham as father of many nations and the expansion of the land promise many be themes that are more closely linked than one might first think.

Review of Article on the Problem of Evil and Animal Death

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Faro, Ingrid. “The Question of Evil and Animal Death Before the Fall,” Trinity Journal 36 (2015): 193-213.

Faro begins her article by seeking to determine what should be considered evil. She argues that too often English speakers read the English sense of the word into Hebrew words with much broader semantic domains. Though not explicit, she seems to indicate that natural events like hurricanes, or falling off a cliff due to gravity, etc. should not be classified as evils because it is the way God designed natural laws to work in the world. Gravity and hurricanes both have good effects too. As the article develops Faro seems to extend this logic to predation as well. When she defines evil she leaves aside senses from Hebrew words such as “deficient,” “displeasing,” or “unpleasant.” He definition reads: “Evil, then, from God’s perspective is presented predominately as choices that conflict with God.”

The advantage of this approach is evident for the Christian who wishes to escape the problem of animal death. It simply redefines animal death as not evil. However, I’m not convinced of the sufficiency of this argument. The philosophers who are concerned about the problem of evil in the animal world are not thinking that the pain and suffering and death in the animal realm is evil because they’re reading narrow English senses into words with broader Hebrew senses. They’re looking at death and pain and suffering and recoiling with horror at it. In addition limiting evil to actions chosen by humans seems too narrow theologically. If God has built creational norms into his world, and if sin has disrupted these norms across the board, then it would seem that evil is anything contrary to these norms whether or not the violation is due to human choice in an immediate sense.

The latter part of Faro’s article seeks to find biblical support for the possibility of animal death prior to the Fall. She appeals to three passages: Genesis 1-2, Psalm 104; Job 38-41.

She mounts a number of arguments from Genesis 1-2. First, she says the numbering of the days of creation reveal that “the universe was not created to be eternal in its original physical form” (206). She appeals to several cross references in support: Psalm 102:25-26; Isaiah 34:4; 51:6; Revelation 6:12-14; 21:1-4. It is not clear how the numbering of the days in Genesis 1 indicates that the present earth will be destroyed. The other passages all refer to a post-Fall reality and does not speak of what would have happened had there been no Fall.

Second, while acknowledging that plant death is different from animal death, she thinks it is significant that the seed and the “cycle of plant life” is a picture of death and resurrection (206-7). It is not clear how this argument advances Faro’s point. She could be arguing that if death was not present from the beginning, God would not have built in a sign of death and resurrection into plant life. But does this does not seem to be a sound argument given God’s foreknowledge.

Third, she claims that both Adam and the animals were formed from the dust of the ground, which she says indicates they were created mortal (appealing to Genesis 3:19). Humans were to eat from the tree of life to avoid death, but animals were not to eat of the tree of life. Thus animals were created mortal, and God intended for them to die. But Genesis 3:19 presents death as a punishment for sin, not as something built into the nature of the creation. The historic position is that Adam was created immortal but was not confirmed in his immortality. This position best accounts for all of the data: death as a punishment, the possibility of receiving that punishment, and the tree of life as a sign of confirmation in immortality. Furthermore, Genesis nowhere implies that animals would have needed to eat from that tree to avoid death. Faro’s reading makes it seem as if the tree has some kind of magical power rather than recognizing that the trees are sacramental in nature.

The argument from Psalm 104 is simple. This is a creation psalm that celebrates animal predation as part of God’s wise ordering of the earth (v. 24). In response, Psalm 104 is clearly a reflection on a creation that has been affected by the Fall (v.35). God’s provision of food for animals (and humans) now includes the death of other animals. But from the beginning it was otherwise. Genesis 1:29-30 gives plants as food to humans and to animals. It is only after the Fall that God permits the eating of meat (Gen. 9:3-6; note that the passage places limitations on what animals can and cannot eat as well as humans). Whether or not Genesis 9 is establishing something new or reiterating a permission given before the Flood is open for debate, but it is clear that the shift to eating meat happened after the Fall for both humans and animals.

The passages from Job are of the same nature as Psalm 104. They refer to God providing food for predatory animals or to death among animals. Faro’s argument would seem to be that God’s wisdom is on display even in situations that include animal death. But she is able to take this a step further with Job 40—we should not claim that animal death is an evil, for to do so would be to find fault with God or to contend with him. The difficulty with Faro’s argument is that Job 38-41 is dealing with God’s wisdom in providentially ruling over a fallen world. It makes no claims about what life would ideally have been like before the Fall.

Later Faro appeals to Job to make the case that death and suffering do not “exist in the world due to human sin” alone. She notes that one of the points of the book of Job is that death and suffering have causes other than sin (here she also appeals to John 9:2). Yet, while it is true that Job’s sufferings were not caused by his own sin, it is difficult to move from this to the conclusion that the suffering he experienced was in no way connected to the Fall brought about by Adam’s sin. Were the loathsome sores that covered Job from head to foot the kind of thing that could have occurred to a man had Adam not sinned?

Faro wraps up her article by taking into account the Scripture passages that look toward a future in which animals live together in harmony. She claims,  “Although animals of prey kill for food, animals are not capable of the savagery, cruelty, and terror that humanity can display. Humans, however, can teach animals cruelty, such as training pit bulls or roosters to fight and attack” (209). The human responsibility summarized in the creation mandate point in a different direction, Faro argues. She seems to indicate that part of the creation mandate is to improve animals from their original condition. The claim that animals are not capable of savagery or cruelty is a doubtful claim. Yet without this supposition Faro’s explanation fails to conform to the Creation, Fall, Redemption structure of Scripture. Key to this structure is an affirmation of the original goodness of creation.

The problem of evil as it pertains to animal death is one of the major philosophical challenges to forms of Christianity that seek to accommodate the current evolutionary consensus. Faro attempts to address this problem by claiming that animal death and suffering is actually not an evil. However, this claim rests on weak exegetical support and, at least in this article, fails to engage the philosophical/theological arguments to the contrary.

Hans Madueme Reviews Three Books on Adam

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Madueme, Hans. “Adam and Eve: An Evangelical Impasse?” Christian Scholar’s Review 45, no. 2 (Winter 2016): 165-183.

Madueme reviews three books on Adam: Karl Giberson’s Saving the Original Sinner, William VanDoodewaard’s The Quest for the Historical Adam, and John Walton’s The Lost World of Adam and Eve.

Madueme finds the strength of Giberson’s book its study of the history of varied interpretations regarding Adam. He also finds instructive the chapter on racism, which recounts why belief in the historical Adam did not prevent racism, as it ought to have, namely, becuase racists held the view that non-Europeans had degenerated from a superior white race. Nonetheless, Madueme finds problems in Giberson’s account. He notes that Giberson’s use of one frequently cited book “is hard to square” with what that source actually says. Giberson also misreads the early church’s view of original sin prior to Augustine. Most significantly, Giberson holds that the Bible itself must submit to “challenge from the advancing knowledge of the present.” Thus Paul is in error. Finally, Madueme notes that Giberson critiques creationist popularizers but fails to interact with creationists who are “reputable scientists (such as Leonard Brand, Arthur Chadwick, Paul Garner, Andrew Snelling, Kurt Wise, Todd Wood) and respected theologians (such as Douglas Kelly, John Mark Reynolds, Iain Duguid, Todd Beall, John Frame).” A critic should always critique his opponents where they are strongest.

Madueme holds out VanDoodewaard’s book as an example of excellent young earth creationist writing. Madueme notes that “of the three books under review, VanDoodewaard’s is the strongest theologically.” He praises VanDoodewaard’s critique of the claim that the creationist tradition is due to the literalist hermeneutic of Seventh Day Adventism. VanDoodewaard shows a heritage with roots in Scottish Presbyterianism, Southern Presbyterianism, the Dutch Reformed, and Lutheranism (both Missouri and Wisconsin synods). Madueme’s critiques are largely that he wishes VanDoodewaard had written a different or an expanded work. He wishes VanDoodewaard had interacted with the writings of more scholars outside the Reformed tradition. He also wishes that VanDoodewaard’s argument regarding a link between the denial of a historical Adam racism also dealt with the racism that existed among literalists. Finally, Madueme wishes that VanDoodewaard had provided more social context in his historical sections. The most substantive critique has to do with VanDoodewaard’s use of the term literalistic. Madueme thinks that adoption of this term both unnecessarily plays into the hands of critics and reflects that fact that VanDoodewaard sometimes sets up a false dichotomy.

Madueme is unconvinced by Walton’s continued work in the opening chapters of Genesis. A foundational premise of Walton’s is that the creation narrated in these opening chapters is functional rather than physical. Madueme thinks this sets up a false dichotomy. Being formed from the dust can both be a literal, historical statement as well as maintain some symbolism. But Walton will only see it one way or the other. Madueme sees it particularly devastating to Walton’s thesis the concession that aside from Romans 5 and 1 Corinthians 15, the New Testament does not treat Adam as an archetype. This shows to Madueme that the dichotomy between first historical human and archetype should not be maintained. Madueme is also concerned that Walton’s approach amounts to an embrace of Stephen Jay Gould’s Non Overlapping Magisterium. While “Walton insists, repeatedly that we should read the Bible on its own terms without imposing modern scientific questions,” the approach is driven (though not “solely” driven, Madueme hastens to add) by scientific concerns. Finally, Madueme is troubled by Walton’s view of accommodation. “On this view, God accommodated his Word to the erroneous beliefs of the biblical authors.” Thus “the background beliefs” of Paul—even as expressed in the text—can be rejected though his “explicit statements” cannot be. But, Madueme notes, “ancient people believed in God or gods, that they exist, that they act in the world, that they engage with humanity, and so on. [Walton] is counseling readers of Scripture ex hypothesi to dismiss those portions as an incidental part of their cognitive environment. Presumably Walton would reply that his methodology only applies to those parts of the Bible that relate to scientific questions; that is, issues in cosmology, biology, and so on. But that proves my point—modern science is having an undue influence. Is this biblical scholarship with a Kantian twist, Scripture within the bounds of a naturalistic science?”

Madueme concludes that Giberson’s book has the advantage of avoiding conflict with the present scientific consensus but suffers from the fatal defect of reconfiguring Christianity in the process. He appreciates VanDoodewaard’s book but finds it too parochial. He urges evangelicals to show young earth creationists more academic respect and for these creationists to argue for their positions without attacking other evangelicals. He thinks that Walton’s book at its best shows “that evangelical biblical scholarship has the resources to engage difficult questions raised by modern science.” But, “at its worst, the picture that emerges is a theologically anemic, hermeneutical mirror dancing to the scientific consensus.”

Poythress on Genesis 1, the Ancient Near East, and Myths

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Poythress, Vern S. “Three Modern Myths in Interpreting Genesis 1. ” WTJ 76 (2014): 321-50.

Poythress makes the case that many interpreters of Genesis 1 have fallen prey to the following three “modern myths”: (1) “The Myth of Scientistic Metaphysics,” (2) “The Myth of Progress,” and (3) “The Myth of Understanding Cultures from Facts.”

The first myth asserts that modern scientific metaphysics describes reality while phenomenological language does not. “The ‘unreality’ of appearances follows only if we have a metaphysical principle of reductionism, which says that science gets to the “bottom,” the “real” foundation of being, and that everything above the bottom is unreal in relation to the bottom. This metaphysics has no real warrant based on details of scientific investigation, but is a groundless assumption that is imposed on the investigation” (328). The example Poythress uses is biblical language about the sun rising. Those who fall prey to this myth may argue “the ancient people carried along a raft of assumptions about the cosmos, and that we now know that those assumptions were wrong. For instance, they thought that the earth was at the center in an absolute sense” (326). To which Poythress responds, “Well, perhaps they did. And perhaps they did not. Might it just be the case that the average Israelite did not worry about complicated physical and mathematical systems for describing motions of the heavenly bodies?” (326).

The second myth is the belief that modern science and technology make modern cultures superior in their understanding to ancient cultures. Poythress uses the existence of demons as a counter-example. Many modern people would dismiss their existence as unscientific. But in this case the ancient cultures would have the better understanding of reality (329-30). When interpreters in thrall to this myth interpret Genesis 1, they think they must find “some core religious message” and discard its “cultural trappings.” Poythress says, “This attitude undermines empathy, and lack of empathy hinders genuine understanding” (330).

The third myth assumes “we can study and understand a culture effectively with a dose of armchair learning about the facts” (330). Poythress finds the confidence expressed in this myth misplaced. “With the ancient Near East, these difficulties go together with the absence of direct contact. We cannot function like a well-trained field worker in social anthropology, actually immersing ourselves within an ancient culture and learning it seriously and empathetically ‘from inside.’ In addition, the ancient Near East consists of many interacting subcultures that changed over a period of millennia. The extant documentary and archaeological evidence is fragmentary. People who are richly informed by evidence, who have skills in cross-cultural thinking and adaptation, and who have innate empathy, may often make good inferences up to a point. But knowledge of such a culture as an interlocking whole remains partial and tentative” (330-31). As an example, Poythress examines the oft-made claim that the ancients believed the sky to be a solid dome. But Poythress doubts the assumption that since ancient people didn’t have our scientific understanding of the atmosphere that they must have had an incorrect scientific understanding. Perhaps they were not thinking in those terms at all. For instance he notes the Egyptians are said to believe in a solid sky held up by the gods, yet the same texts that speak in this way speak of the gods as forming the sky and air. Poythress notes, “Inasmuch as both pictures involve gods, one may doubt whether a materialistic interpretation captures the point in either case. Both pictures may perhaps be artistic representations, not quasi-scientific models of physical structure” (332, n. 24). Poythress  not deny that the Bible speaks of windows in the heaven and such, but he questions the value of these images in giving insight into the Israelites conception of the physical makeup of the world. He says, “We talk about a person with a big “ego” without committing ourselves to Sigmund Freud’s theory of the ego. Likewise, might ancient discussion of the observable world creatively use the imagery of a house, with pillars, windows, doors, or upper chambers, or the image of a tent, or an // expanse?31 Could such imagery appear, without teaching a detailed physicalistic theory? Modern physicalistic readings run the danger of not recognizing analogy and metaphor in ancient texts” (335-36).

A method of interpretation that Poythress believes falls for these myths he labels the vehicle-cargo approach. In this approach ancient cosmological ideas, or ideas otherwise shown by science to be false, are merely the vehicle that carries the cargo of theological truth. The goal is to uphold inerrancy: “Consequently [upon the adoption of the vehicle-cargo approach], Gen 1 contains no errors in its teaching. In fact, its teaching harmonizes well with modern science, because when rightly understood it is not teaching anything directly about science or anything that could contradict science” (322). But Poythress is doubtful that inerrancy is actually protected: “Suppose that a modern interpreter says that Gen 1 is about theology and not specific events in time and space. This dichotomy is problematic. Theology is expressed precisely through God’s actions in events in time and space. If we make a false dichotomy in Gen 1, this same dichotomy can spread to other parts of the Bible. A principle of this kind easily becomes a wedge by which people pull away from the reality that God acts in history and speaks about history” (346). So, on Poythress’s, analysis the vehicle-cargo approach suffers fails to protect inerrancy while also, ironically, falling prey to myths similar to the ones it set out to avoid: “The vehicle-cargo approach criticizes naïve modern readings of Gen 1 for artificially projecting into Genesis ideas from modern science. It also criticizes the philosophers and theologians who resisted Copernicus, because they projected Aristotelian and Ptolemaic theories of ultimate structure—metaphysics—into Gen 1. But is it doing something analogous? The vehicle-cargo approach also projects its own brand of “metaphysics” into Gen 1, namely, the metaphysics that it has found from reading ancient Near Eastern myths” (345).

This really is a must-read article.

Review of Jim Hamilton’s With the Clouds of Heaven

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Hamilton, James M., Jr. With the Clouds of Heaven: The Book of Daniel in Biblical Theology. New Studies in Biblical Theology. Edited by D. A. Carson. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2014.

I found much to appreciate in Hamilton’s biblical theology of Daniel. Hamilton forthrightly holds to the early date for the book and defends the necessity of this understanding for right interpretation of the book. Hamilton also has his eye on both the theology of Daniel and how that theology connects to the rest of the canon. Finally, I found the book full of exegetical insights. For instance, I thought his treatment of the parallels between various visions well-done.

I have three criticisms, however. First, I do not find Hamilton’s chiastic structure for the book compelling. I rarely find chiastic structures for books compelling. Too often the sections are unbalanced and the parallels created by the author’s wording rather than by the text. This is the case with Hamilton’s structure of Daniel. For instance, Hamilton labels chapter 1 “Exile to the unclean realm of the dead.” Yet chapter 1 does not clearly identify Babylon as the realm of the dead. The parallel closing section, 10-12, Hamilton labels “Return from exile and resurrection from the dead.” This label works for chapter 12, but it doesn’t really work for chapters 10-11.

Second, I find Hamilton’s approach typology to be somewhat over-imaginative. For instance, I see the parallels that Hamilton draws between Joseph and Daniel, but whether that makes Joseph a type of Daniel is unclear to me. What is more I think it is a stretch to use these parallels to connect Daniel to the New Exodus theme.

Third, I find Hamilton’s interpretation of Daniel’s 70 sevens unconvincing. One of my motivations for reading Hamilton was to examine alternatives to the dispensational approach to this passage in which the first 69 sevens stretch from a decree of a Persian monarch related to the rebuilding of Jerusalem to the first coming of Christ and in which the 70th seven awaits a future fulfillment. Hamilton takes the first seven weeks to refer to the “time between the revelation of these things to Daniel and the conclusion of Malachi’s prophetic ministry.” The troubled sixty-two weeks are the intertestamental period. The seventieth week extends from the establishment of the church to the return of Christ, the last half of the week being the time of Antichrist (131-32; 215-16).

Hamilton begins by discounting the literal nature of Jeremiah’s 70 year prophecy. Hamilton says, “If Daniel counted from the time of his own exile to Babylon in 605 BC, the first year of Darius in 539/538 BC would be roughly seventy years.” He concludes from this “Daniel seems to take the seventy years as a round number that broadly corresponds to an individual’s  lifespan” (123). This leads to another conclusion, in turn. Since the 70 years of Jeremiah were not literal years, “I do not think Daniel intended the seventy weeks to be understood literally either” (124). But there are several weak links in this chain of reasoning. First, even if one does not adopt one of the interpretations that finds Jeremiah’s prophecy fulfilled precisely (Hamilton calls these interpretations “strained” but fails to engage with them), the years may still be literal rather than figurative. As Hamilton notes, the time span was “roughly seventy years.” A “round number,” as Hamilton designates Jeremiah’s seventy years, is not necessarily a figurative number. In fact, if the number is a round number it would seem that it is not merely a symbolic number. Furthermore, if the number is a round number that is fulfilled in roughly seventy years rather than in exactly seventy years, why would Daniel conclude that the number is symbolic of a lifespan? Hamilton appeals to Isaiah 23:15 and Psalm 90:10 as evidence that the Bible uses 70 symbolically for a lifespan. But even if Isaiah 23:15 is referring to an idealized period of time with regard to Tyre, this does not mean that Jeremiah is doing so with regard to Israel. Second Chronicles 36:20 says that the exile was for seventy years so that the land would enjoy its Sabbaths. This would be an inspired indication that the 70 years for Israel should be taken more literally than that for Tyre. Furthermore, understanding the seventy years for Tyre literally is not beyond the realm of possibility. Erlandsson notes that “between the years 700 and 630 . . . Assyria did not permit Tyre to engage in any business activity.” S. Erlandsson, The Burden of Babylon: A Study of Isaiah 13:2-14:23 (Lund: Gleerup, 1970), 102 as cited in Geoffrey Gorgan, “Isaiah,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1986), 6:147.

Hamilton also argues that the 70 sevens of Daniel 9 are not to be taken as actual years because Ezekiel speaks of differing period: a 430 year period of judgment (430 years being symbolic of the sojourn in Egypt) (124-25). The comparison between Ezekiel 4 and Daniel 9 is far from apt. Ezekiel is obviously working with symbols throughout Ezekiel 4, so for his numbers to symbolically represent exile in Egypt/Mesopotamia is understandable. However, the prophecy of the seventy sevens follows on a prophecy of seventy years that was fulfilled in “roughly seventy years.” We would expect then the seventy sevens to follow to be actual years rather than merely symbolic years unless there is some compelling reason to the contrary.

The only other reason that Hamilton gives for taking the 70 sevens as symbolic is that 490 amounts to a tenfold jubilee. This is interesting in light of the fact that Jeremiah’s 70 year prophecy dealt with giving the land its Sabbath rest. I’m not entirely convinced in light of the in fact that 9:24 provides readers with the purposes for the seventy sevens prophecy and does not raise mention the jubilee. In any event, granting the symbolism does not eliminate the possibility of literal years. Hamilton would likely grant two literal trees stood in the Garden of Eden from one of which Adam and Eve literally ate fruit. Yet at the same time these trees bore a profound symbolic significance.

I found Hamilton’s reasons for rejecting a literal 490 years view similarly dissatisfying. He writes: “Questions multiply for those who would take the 490 years literally, involving both the date from which to count (from 538, 458, or 445 BC?) and the event that marks completion (until the birth of Jesus, until his triumphal entry, until the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70, or until his return?) And do we factor in a ‘parenthesis’ that is the church age, leaving a literal seventieth week, or do we switch from a literal understanding of the first sixty-nine weeks to a symbolic understanding of the seventieth? In addition to these would seem to be an additional question: How are Daniel’s 490 years to be harmonized with Ezekiel’s 430?” (126, n. 13) This is one of the few places where I thought Hamilton was actually unfair. Of course, historical questions multiply if a text is understood historically rather than merely symbolically. But this is true throughout the whole book. Questions multiply for those who believe Daniel to be a historical figure who wrote in the reigns of the kings mentioned in the book that don’t arise if he were merely a symbolical character created by an author in Maccabean times. Nonetheless, Hamilton rightly mounts a strong defense of the historicity of Daniel. The questions of terminus ad quo and terminus ad quem should not prejudice interpreters against a historical understanding of the 490 years. Similarly, if one understands the exodus as a historical event, “questions multiply”: several dates are possible and several attempts at harmonizing biblical and Egyptian chronology have been proposed. The fact that these multiple proposals exist doesn’t invalidate the historicity of the event.

There are several ways by which 69 sevens can be seen to extend from a decree of a Persian monarch related to rebuilding the city to the life of the Messiah prior to his crucifixion. The fact that these calculations can be made in a number of different ways (that is, from different starting points, using solar years or 360 day years, etc.) should not obscure the amazing fact these years at the very least roughly span the period of time from decrees to rebuild to the time of Christ. In fact the timing is so close that I find it odd, then, to dismiss a literal interpretation of these years. What is more, one does not have to be a dispensationalist to understand these years literally. Hamilton’s colleague Peter Gentry does so in Kingdom through Covenant. Gentry, contrary to a dispensational view, locates the seventieth week within the ministry of Christ. Hamilton, however, makes cogent arguments against Gentry that the seventieth is eschatological. Of course if the years are literal, and if the sixty-ninth year terminates sometime in Jesus’s ministry, and if the seventieth week is still future, the means that there is a lengthy gap between the sixty-ninth and seventieth years. Personally, I don’t find that troublesome as there are numerous Old Testament prophecies that are fulfilled partially in the first come and partially in the second.

The lengthy critique of Hamilton’s position on Daniel 9 should not detract however from my recommendation of this book. Disagreements aside, I filled my notes on Daniel with many helpful observations from this book.

Galatians 3:26-27: Water Baptism or Spirit Baptism

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The majority of commentators throughout history understand 3:27 to refer to water baptism. But this results in some serious difficulties. Calvin states the difficulty well: “”But the argument, that, because they have been baptized, they have put on Christ, appears weak; for how far is baptism from being efficacious in all? Is it reasonable that the grace of the Holy Spirit should be so closely linked to an external symbol? Does not the uniform doctrine of Scripture, as well as experience, appear to confute this statement?”[1] In other words, it is obvious under anyone’s theology, that not all who are water baptized are united to Christ. But this verse says, ”For as many of you as were,” or “All who were . . . .”

There are a number of ways of handling this difficulty. Peter Lombard notes a view ascribed to Augustine indicated that those who were baptized under a false confession had their sins forgiven “at the very moment of baptism.” But those sins “return immediately after baptism.” Lombard rejects this view, and he says that Augustine only reported the view. He did not hold it.[2] Lombard himself suggested two resolutions. First, it may be that only “those who are baptized in Christ” have their sins forgiven. Or, Lombard suggested, it may be that the passage refers not to those who receive the sacrament alone but also the thing which it symbolizes.[3]

This latter explanation has remained popular. It was the explanation Calvin offered: “It is customary with Paul to treat of the sacrament in two points of view. When he is dealing with hypocrites . . . he then proclaims loudly the emptiness and worthlessness of the outward symbol. . . . When, on the other hand, he addresses beleviers, who make a proper use of the symbols, he then views them in connexion with the truth—which they represent.”[4]

Another approach is to argue that baptism is one part of “the complex of initiation events describing conversion.”[5] Some make baptism an essential part of receiving the benefit. Beasley-Murray claims, “If Paul were pressed to define the relationship of the two statements in v. 26-27, I cannot see how he could preserve the force of both sentences apart from affirming that baptism is the moment of faith in which the adoption is realized . . . which is the same as saying that in baptism faith receives Christ in whom the adoption is effected.”[6] Everett Ferguson similarly states, “If a distinction is to be made between the relation of faith and baptism to the blessings described, one might say that baptism is the time at which and faith is the reason why.”[7] F. F. Bruce notes the problem with this approach: “The question arises here: if Paul makes baptism the gateway to ‘being-in-Christ’, is he not attaching soteriological efficacy to a rite which in itself is as external or ‘material’ as circumcision?”[8] For this reason commentators often make qualifying comments such as these by Moo:

It was not, in and of itself, a means of salvation or incorporation into Christ (contra, e.g., Schlier 1989: 172; cf. Betz 1979: 187-88). Faith, which Paul repeatedly highlights in this passage and in his other letters, is the only means of coming into relationship with Jesus Christ. However, baptism is more than simply a symbol of that new relationship; it is the capstone of the process by which one is converted and initiated into the church. As such, Paul can appeal to baptism as ‘shorthand’ for the entire conversion experience.[9]

The difficulty with all of these qualifications is that they seem to evade what the words of the verse actually say. The verse says, “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ.” Moo says, “[Baptism] was not, in and of itself, a means of . . . incorporation into Christ (contra, e.g., Schlier . . .).” The verse says “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ.” But Lombard and Calvin say that is only true for those who receive the sacrament and the thing and not the sacrament alone. The qualifications are seeking to guard orthodox doctrine, but they seem to do so at the text’s expense.

But what if Paul is not referring to water baptism here? Bruce says, “It is difficult to suppose that readers would not have understood it as a statement about their initiatory baptism in water.” But is it so difficult? Both the Gospels and Acts anticipate and describe Spirit baptism.[10] The distinction between these two kinds of baptism is present in apostolic teaching. Distinction between the sacrament and the thing or the symbol and the reality, however, are later theological developments. It seems more likely for Paul’s original readers to have distinguished between water baptism and Spirit baptism than between the sacrament and the thing.

What is more, Spirit baptism makes good sense in this context. In this context baptism is the proof that “Jew and Gentile, slave and free, male and female” are one in Christ through faith. Water baptism cannot serve as such a proof because, as Hunn notes, “it proves only that the baptizer found [these distinctions] irrelevant.”[11] It does not provide a window into the mind of God. Spirit baptism, on the other hand, does provide such a proof. Indeed, this is Peter’s argument for accepting the Gentiles into the church. The Spirit baptized them just as he had baptized the Jews (Acts 11:15-17). Hunn also observes that Galatians 3:23-29 and 4:3-7 follow parallel lines of argumentation. In 3:27-28 the proof of sonship is baptism into Christ. In 4:6 the proof of sonship is the reception of the Spirit. This parallel indicates that Spirit baptism is in view in 3:27.[12] Finally, 1 Corinthians 12:13 forms a close parallel to Galatians 3:27. In both passages there is baptism into Christ. In both there is the indication that this the case whether the person is Jew or Gentile, slave or free. In 1 Corinthians 12:13 the baptism is clearly Spirit baptism: “For [in] one Spirit we were all baptized into one body.” This confirms that the baptism in view in Galatians 3:27 is Spirit baptism.

To this position Schreiner objects, “Robert H. Stein shows that the attempt to separate water baptism from Spirit baptism fails to understand that water baptism is part of the complex of initiation events describing conversion.”[13] But in taking this view there is no denial that water baptism was part of “the complex of initiation events.” Nor does this view dispute that water baptism is the symbol of Spirit baptism.[14] This view simply recognizes that as many as are baptized in the Spirit are united to Christ but that not all who are baptized in water are so united.

[1] John Calvin, Commentaries on the Epistles of Paul to the Galatians and Ephesians, trans. Willaim Pringle (1854; repr., Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999), 111.

[2] Peter Lombard, The Sentences, trans. Giulio Silano (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 2010), 19-20 (bk. 4, dist. 4, ch. 2, n. 4-5).

[3] Ibid., 21 (bk. 4, dist. 4, ch. 3).

[4] Calvin, 111.

[5] Thomas Schreiner, Galatians, ZECNT, 257, n. 8; cf. Douglas Moo, Galatians, BECNT, 251.

[6] G. R. Beasley-Murray, Baptism in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1962), 151.

[7] Everett Ferguson, Baptism in the Early Church: History, Theology, and Liturgy in the First Five Centuries (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013), 147.

[8] F. F. Bruce, Galatians, NIGTC, 185.

[9] Moo,  251.

[10] Debbie Hunn, “The Baptism of Galatians 3:27: A Contextual Approach,” ExpTim 115 (2005): 373-74.

[11] Ibid, 373.

[12] Ibid., 374-75.

[13] Schreiner, 257, n. 8.

[14] I would dispute, however, that Spirit baptism happens at the time of water baptism. I would argue the reality precedes the symbol.