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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781634311908 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Pitchstone Publishing |
| Publication date: | 09/04/2019 |
| Edition description: | None |
| Pages: | 224 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.40(d) |
About the Author
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CHAPTER 1
What an Imaginary Friend We Have in Jesus
You may know me as a proponent of the Christ Myth theory, the hypothesis that there was never a historical Jesus. But for our purposes here, Mythicism is neither here nor there. Go on thinking there was a historical Jesus, as indeed there may have been for all I know. So I am not suggesting that the belief in a historical Jesus qualifies as superstition. In fact, as we will soon see, the belief in a historical Jesus is threatened by what one might call the quest for the devotional Jesus.
What is the criterion for salvation? If you ask evangelical, fundamentalist, Pentecostal, and Charismatic believers, it always comes down, not to the Nicene Creed or the Westminster Confession, not to sacramental spirituality, but to cultivating a "personal relationship with Jesus Christ as personal Lord and Savior." As a student of historical, systematic, and biblical theology, I find this fact astonishing. It strikes me as comparable to the "Jesus Only" Pentecostal sect's insistence that one must speak in tongues if one is to be "saved." A particular approach to Protestant devotionalism has been elevated to the position of the very essence of Christianity. All sorts of things are wrong with this. I propose to examine, first, the question of whether there is any scriptural basis for "personal savior" devotionalism. Second, I want to look at the implied theological and conceptual contradictions. Third, I'll consider parallels from Eastern religions, which seem to me to cast interesting light on the "personal relationship" spirituality.
You search the Scriptures for in them you think to find eternal life, but they speak of me.
As far as I can tell, there is simply no basis in the New Testament for the fundamentalist-evangelical gospel of the "personal relationship with Christ"/"Jesus as personal savior." This is really quite remarkable in light of the fact that, to hear its advocates tell it, such piety is the end-all and be-all of the whole Bible, whether by Old Testament prediction or by New Testament depiction. It is for this reason that fundamentalists frequently organize Bible handouts as an evangelistic outreach, as if the whole book, with its turgid Leviticuses and tedious Chronicles were likely to woo the unbeliever to Christ. Even if it's just the New Testament in a bad translation like Today's English Version or The Living Bible, I'll wager that no reader, new to the text, would ever think the book is about a "personal relationship" with the gospel hero who lambastes Pharisees and withers fig trees, much less the Pauline theological cipher to whom no personality, description, or biography is ascribed.
You may think I don't know my Bible very well. How can I ignore the classic text Revelation 3:20? "Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with me." Doesn't this passage invite the reader to "have a little talk with Jesus," as the gospel song says? Or as another chorus says, "He walks with me and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own. And the joy we share as we tarry there, no other has ever known." You know, the soft and smarmy depiction of Jesus rapping gently on the door in William Holman Hunt's painting "The Light of the World" and Warner Sallman's "Christ at Heart's Door." Surely the most elaborate treatment of this motif is Robert Boyd Munger's InterVarsity Press booklet My Heart, Christ's Home, which very skillfully spins the whole thing out into a narrative of a twentieth-century man who invites Jesus to share his house. This devotional version of The Odd Couple soon shows Jesus' housemate to be a less than perfect host, as he comes to spend less and less time with his personal savior, who waits each morning, patiently but in vain, for his best pal to join him in the parlor for a soul-searching chat. The scenario is unwittingly comedic, as it must remind the reader, Christian or not, of uncomfortable situations in which he has been cornered into a chat with some blue-nosed, pious aunt or in-law. You can sympathize with Munger's character who finds himself avoiding time spent with the holy Son of God. But of course this is not what author Munger intended, which was an allegory of the devotional life. The character corresponds to the evangelical who knows he should "commune with Christ" daily in a "quiet time" of prayer, Bible reading, and introspection, but is too easily distracted by worldly obligations. But I think this stuff has no basis in the New Testament. So what does Revelation 3:20 mean?
For one thing, we might ask ourselves what such a sweet devotional nostrum is doing in the psychedelic Technicolor Apocalypse of John with its bloodbaths and multi-headed dragons? Is it really a petunia in an onion patch? No, I dare say we ought to view it as another eye-stinging onion. (And that's no criticism; I happen to love the Book of Revelation!)
The Revelation of John is, for most Bible students, by far the most confusing portion of the Bible, and this is because it is written in colorful cipher-language. This goes with the territory: this sort of code is integral to the whole apocalyptic genre. Why? In some cases, the authors may have been trying to avoid trouble with pagan authorities who would consider their work subversive if it were written in plain speech. But on the whole, the motive seems to have been to make sympathetic readers "work for it," as when Jesus urges those who hear his quizzical parables, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear" (Mark 4:9; cf. Rev. 2:7, 11, 17, 29; 3:6,13,22).
What the Book of Revelation reveals is the crash-banging end of the world. It is, therefore, filled with eschatology, the lore of the Last Things. This must be understood as the basic framework of the book. And though there is much that is not easily understood by the casual reader, this much is obvious on every page. As the seven letters introducing the work to the Seven Churches of Asia Minor make clear, the author (John the Revelator) means to warn his readers of the impending Tribulation and to exhort them to vigilance and endurance in the face of it. It is striking to observe a series of double references, whereby rewards promised to the readers foreshadow the cosmic- level events of the End. Revelation 2:7 promises readers in Ephesus a snack from the Edenic Tree of Life which later appears in 22:1–2. The faithful martyrs of Smyrna will be given the crown of life (2:10), looking forward to the resurrection of martyrs in 20:4. Those in Pergamum who overcome will be given to eat of the "hidden manna," i.e., that concealed in the Ark of the Covenant (Exod.16:32–34), which is revealed from heaven in Revelation 11:19. Those in Thyatira are promised authority over the nations (2:26–27), foreshadowing 12:5; 20:4. To those in Sardis who overcome their obstacles he promises a glorious resurrection body, symbolized by radiant white robes (3:4–5), which they will don in 6:11; 19:7–8. To the righteous Philadelphians Christ promises citizenship in the New Jerusalem (3:12), which descends from the sky in 21:3. Finally, to the Laodiceans he promises they shall share the dais with him at the Messianic Banquet (3:20–21). This is going to be crucial for grasping the point of Revelation 3:20, and it is not what you have always been told.
For New Testament scholars, the first step in making sense of a passage is to try to figure out the Sitz-im-Leben, or life-setting that gave rise to it. A saying may sound important but still baffling as long as we don't know what kind of situation or topic is being addressed there. It's kind of like hearing only half of a telephone conversation and trying to figure who's on the other end. As for this conversation, the subject is pretty easy to figure out. But who is talking to whom? Who is "John"? And who are the "angels of the seven churches" to whom, it says, the letters are addressed? As for John the Revelator, we can't assume he is supposed to be John the son of Zebedee, one of the twelve disciples. John (Yohannon; Ioannes) was too common a name for it to denote any particular individual without further qualification. But Revelation itself tells or implies a few important things about him. He was a prophet channeling oracles from the ascended Christ. He is located, at present, on the Island of Patmos in the Mediterranean. Why is he there? We usually take for granted that he had been exiled there for his gospel preaching, which would certainly make sense, but the text doesn't actually say so. Perhaps we are to understand him to be there on a missionary journey. Or maybe both: he could have arrived on Patmos to preach and got arrested for it, like Paul in the Book of Acts. But I don't think that makes any difference. Historical or not, John's exile is mentioned in order to justify his prefacing the Revelation with seven cover letters. I think that is a literary device, that all seven letters are designed to be read together as we now read them. But even if it is a pose, it tells us something. It presupposes a certain picture (memory?) of the Johannine community, especially when we compare Revelation's depiction with that implied in the so-called Johannine Epistles.
Are these two New Testament writers the same person? Didn't I just say there were too many guys named "John" for the name to identify one particular individual? Yes, and it's even worse than that, since 1, 2, and 3 John are actually anonymous. The author self-identifies only as "the Elder." It was only later that scribes made an educated(?) guess about his identity.
Further, there is no real possibility that the Johannine Epistles were written by John of Patmos. The grammar and style are just way too different. But consider this: a close reading of both sets of letters (the three from the Elder and the seven from the Revelator) presuppose a kind of diocesan arrangement with the Elder or the Revelator in a supervisory capacity. (By the way, the word "bishop" literally means "supervisor" or "overseer.") In both cases, we see the leader staying in touch with the congregations loyal to him by means of both individual and encyclical letters carried by itinerant prophets, called "brethren" in 3 John and "angels" or "messengers" (same word in Greek, angelos) in Revelation. Both sets of church communities were subject to sectarian strife of a gnostic character. First John warns that some of the circuit-riding brethren had begun to propagate a docetic doctrine, i.e., Jesus was not a being of tangible flesh and blood but rather a kind of phantom (1 John 4:2–3). Others apparently taught that "Jesus was not the Christ" (1 John 2:22), i.e., the human Jesus was merely the channeler for the Christ Spirit who spoke through him up until the crucifixion. The Elder brands these "heretics" as the fulfillment of the prophecies of the Antichrist. Similarly, the seven churches of Asia Minor are dealing in various ways with the teaching of the Gnostic Nicolaitans, whom the Revelator vilifies with the same fury. I think it is likely that the authors of the Johannine Epistles and the Book of Revelation were two successive leaders of the same group of churches. (Believe it or not, this is going somewhere. We are getting closer to Revelation 3:20.)
So the angels of the seven churches are the brethren of the Johannine epistles. The seven churches constitute the Johannine sphere of influence. Much has been written in recent years about such "itinerant charismatics" in the early Christian movement. They appear to be "my brethren" whose vicissitudes are catalogued in the Sheep and Goats parable in Matthew 25. "Inasmuch as you did it to the least of these my brethren, you did it to me." The people who heeded their preaching are rewarded, while those who rejected the brethren and their preaching, refusing them shelter, provisions, medicine, and prison visitation (cf. Mark 6:10–11; Phil. 1:7; 2:25; 4:10–16; Phlm. vv. 10–13), have hell to pay. To assist them or to reject them is to assist or to reject Jesus who, after all, speaks through them: "Whoever hears you hears me" (Luke 10:16). As Gerd Theissen suggests, the saying, "Whoever in this sinful and adulterous generation is ashamed of me and my words, of him shall the Son of Man also be ashamed when he comes with the glory of his Father and the holy angels" (Mark 8:38) was originally understood as voiced by Jesus' earthly representatives, predicting that their preaching will be vindicated one day soon when the itinerants' heavenly patron arrives to wipe the sneers off their unbelieving kissers.
Even the Eucharistic miracle in Luke 24 can be understood as referring to the wandering journeymen of the gospel. On Easter Sunday, two dejected disciples who, so to speak, do not yet realize it is Easter Sunday, are trudging back home to Emmaus when they are joined by a stranger looking for company. He tells them their disillusionment is premature. When they reach home and invite their new friend to supper, he blesses the bread and they recognize in him the risen presence of Jesus. Why do they not recognize him at first? Why only hours later, after his scripture lessons, when he consecrates the Lord's Supper? Because it wasn't literally Jesus. But it was one of Jesus' itinerant brethren who speak with his authoritative voice. "You received me as an angel, as Christ Jesus" (Gal. 4:14). Not coincidentally, the early church manual called the Didache ("The Teaching of the Twelve Disciples to the Nations") says one ought to allow the travelling "apostles" considerable freedom when they conduct the Lord's Supper, as if this is the liturgical role they routinely played. The "real presence" of Christ in the Eucharist was located, not in the bread and wine, but in the celebrant. If you turned him away, if you rejected his claims to Christ's authority, you were blaspheming the Holy Spirit. And there was a close connection between the Eucharist and eschatology, as the earthly observance of the Supper was understood as an anticipation of the Messianic Banquet of the End Times (Rev. 19:7–9). This is why the discussion of the Lord's Supper in 1 Corinthians 11:26 and (implicitly) 16:22 concludes with the Aramaic formula Maranatha! "Our Lord, come!"
But even if it is a prayer to Jesus to come to his own, the fact that it almost certainly has its context in the primitive Eucharist raises the question whether it means more than what is implied, say, in Rev. 3.20: 'Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.' (John A.T. Robinson)
Now what does all this have to do with Revelation 3:20? Well, much in every way! The verse must be taken as referring to the reception of the "angels" (messengers) of the seven churches, bearing, as they do, the letters from the Risen Christ, dictated through an angel to the Revelator. To "hear my voice" means the same thing it means in John 10:4–5, to recognize the voice of Jesus as the voice of Jesus, the real thing. Think of the eschatological scenario depicted in Matthew 7:21–23 and Luke 13:22–27. On the Day of Judgment people will be lined up at the Pearly Gates hoping to be invited to enter. But some will be awfully disappointed when Jesus, playing bouncer, tells them their names do not appear on the list. "Depart from me! I never knew you." Yikes! Jesus is on the inside and does not recognize the knockers, who come too late.
Revelation 3:20 just turns the image around: this time it is the glorified Jesus waiting on the doorstep until the householder must recognize him, and if he turns Jesus away, it is because "I never knew you." Fatal error! The guy at the door is no brush salesman, no pesky Jehovah's Witness, but a true bearer of the Word of Jesus and to be welcomed as if Jesus himself, in person. And that bearer is the messenger carrying "the Revelation of Jesus Christ which God gave him to show his servants what must soon transpire" (Rev. 1:1).
The parable of the Great Supper (Matt. 22:1–10; Luke 14:15–20) makes the same point: the host sends his servants to the dwellings of his invited guests with the news, "Supper's ready! Time to go!" But they all have better things to do. That is what Revelation 3:20 is about. And the Great Supper is the Marriage Super of the Lamb.
We need only compare Revelation iii. 20: "Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear My voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me." It is the well-known eschatological notion of a Messianic supper, where all the saints will be at table with the Son of Man and the patriarchs. It has, then, not a thing to do with happy hours of a devotional quiet time wallowing in the love of Jesus. It is not necessarily incompatible with the "personal savior" business, but it certainly does not teach such a thing. And neither does any other verse of scripture. I am not saying the Bible teaches it but that it is wrong; I mean that it just isn't there to begin with. Evangelicals are foisting it on the text, one more instance of biblical ventriloquism.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Jesus Christ Superstition"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Robert M. Price.
Excerpted by permission of Pitchstone Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Introduction 9
1 What an Imaginary Friend We Have in Jesus 17
2 You Believe in Things You Don't Understand 47
3 My God Is Fear 79
4 The Neurosis Testament 93
5 Charis-magic 105
6 Devil's Advocates 117
7 Divination 127
8 The Retreat from Radical Prayer 157
Conclusion: Superstitionatural 187
About the Author