An excerpt from a new book, Metropolitan Manifesto, by Rich Bledsoe.

Institutions say they want change, but this is at best a schizophrenic desire. Change requires pain and nobody wants pain.

Death and Resurrection Motif in the Bible

The entire backbone of this manifesto is the application of the biblical motif of death and resurrection to the leader’s situation. This begins with his/her survival in office, but must then have a broader application than that. Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy has understood the death and resurrection motif as the key to Western history as no one has. For the life of the Church and the Kingdom of God when things appeared to be at dead ends, over and over, it turns out to be the beginnings.

We see this pattern in the Old Testament. God brought a wicked world to an end in the flood and saved only eight people in the ark. But the end of that first world carried the promise of the rainbow with it as God promised He would never again flood the earth and made a covenant with all living things (Genesis 9:8-17).

A few generations later, He initiates a program of redemption when He calls Abraham to Himself, and promises to bless the whole earth and all peoples in Him (Genesis 12:1-3). This calling of Abraham is a calling that is over against universal judgment as He had exercised in the flood.

The family of Abraham develops for four generations, and then seventy people are called down into Egypt where eventually they are enslaved (Genesis 46:27). It is significant that seventy Hebrews go down into Egypt. Seventy is the
number of the nations, being derived from the table of nations in Genesis 10. Whenever the number seventy arises, it is symbolic of the nations.¹An example of this would be in the Gospel of Luke, which is the Gospel to the Gentiles. In Luke 9, Jesus sends out the twelve to the Jews, which number is symbolic of Israel being the nation of twelve tribes. Then in Luke 10, He sends out seventy to cities He is preparing to go to, some of which are in Gentile areas, and include Gentiles. Egypt is a fiery furnace and slavery in Egypt is a kind of death. These Hebrew people are going down into Egypt to die for the world. Their enslavement is in place of a universal judgment that would once again destroy the earth. The Exodus is a resurrection. Israel emerges from the furnace of Egypt in new life and is raised from the dead by Yahweh. Israel now proceeds to explicitly become the priestly people to the entire world.

If the death/resurrection motif is not clear in the Egyptian experience, it is made explicit in the Babylonian captivity. Return from Babylon is directly likened to a resurrection in Ezekiel 37. This passage presents a vision
of a valley of dry bones coming together, flesh coming onto the bones and breath entering the resurrected bodies. This is Israel and Israel is coming back from the dead.

Jesus literally fulfills the death and resurrection anticipated in Ezekiel 37, and the Church is baptized into His death and resurrection. The disciples are sent forth to baptize in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, and they are to disciple the nations, not just individuals. Whole nations begin to take upon themselves this identity of “death and resurrection peoples” in analogous ways to Israel.

In previous chapters, we have spoken of the pattern of death and resurrection entering the life of the counselor to the king, as well as to the king himself. The hope for the leader is that his own experience of death and resurrection can become the experience of the institution he has headship over. Each institution is partaking of an era of a particular form of death and resurrection. It is in this that Rosenstock-Huessy has seen so deeply into. Hence, it is the explication of these patterns that become a way of giving orientation and hope to leaders.

Scapegoating and Cyclical Time: Hopeless and Hope

The first time I met privately with one of the leaders in our city, I said, “I am praying for you to make it in your office to seven years.” I hardly had to say another word. This person was almost as far down the road on this issue as was I. She said, “Before I came here (she named an important official in another state) X said to me, ‘When you get there, I want you to break the four year curse.’ “ Indeed, nobody had made it in this particular office for more than five years in nearly forty years. This was a very moving issue for the official. Momentarily, she appeared to be near tears. She was very touched. I then told her that her first year would be a honeymoon, the second a bit tougher and the sheen would be gone, and between the third and forth year, all hell would break loose. “If there isn’t a crisis, one will be invented. They will attempt to crucify you.” Several years later, a crisis indeed was invented. I got a call one evening, and it was the chief of staff wanting to know if I would see this person. A time was arranged, and I had a meal with her and her husband. We discussed the crisis. “How long have you been here?” She thought for a few moments. “Almost exactly three and a half years.” (This is significant, because Christ was crucified at 42 months, or 3 1/2 years into His ministry).

A number of years later, I had meeting with another person in that same office. I began by saying, “You know, you have about one more year before they come after you.” He got silent. He was a very seasoned politician in his previous life. He knew exactly what I meant. He then said three things. “You have been around here a long time, haven’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. I said, “Yes.” “You’ve seen this before, haven’t you.” Again, it was a statement. “Yes.” Then he did ask a question. “What sect are you from?” I told him my affiliation (Presbyterian). He was very silent and thoughtful, and our interview ended. I never saw him again, but he resigned a few months later. When he left, he left with a hero’s departure with the press trumpeting all that he had achieved. He had been there a little more than two years. What I knew was that he was getting out of Dodge ahead of the lynch mob that he knew was coming.

What follows in this section is not presented as a law, but as something that has typically functioned as one of the first acts of wisdom or interpretation that begins to win the king. The typical first act of wisdom in my experience has to do with a kind of prophesy regarding scapegoating and cyclical time.

This is the information that understandably has had the most immediate and often the deepest effect on almost all officials with whom I have counselled. This understanding is a combination of things that I have learned from Edwin
Friedman, Rene Girard and James Jordan.²Friedman, E. (1985), Generation to generation: family process in church and synagogue. New York, Guilford Press. Bailie, G. (1995), Violence unveiled : humanity at the crossroads. New York, Crossroad. Girard, R. (2001), I see Satan fall like lightning. Maryknoll, N.Y. Ottawa Leominster, Herefordshire, Orbis Books; Novalis; Gracewing. Jordan, J. B. (2007), The Handwriting on the Wall: A Commentary on the Book of Daniel. Powder Springs. GA, American Vision.

Time is of the utmost in importance to anyone who is appointed or elected to any given office. As often as not, the reason someone is newly appointed or elected is to bring change and resolve problems that the institution has been experiencing. This, however, is not really the case. Institutions say they want change, but this is at best a schizophrenic desire. Change requires pain and nobody wants pain. Ray Bakke has said that the first rule of all pastoral care is that all change is experienced as loss, even if it means a net gain in the long run. People want change until it means change, and then what we all want is for the same tune to be played, with the hope that this time it will be different.

The Bible is replete with numbers and many numbers have a typological content. One of the most basic numbers is the number seven. The world was created in seven days, and all through the Bible we find time being structured on sevens. Israel’s long term calendar was so structured with a weekly Sabbath every seven days, a Sabbath year every seventh year and a Jubilee year every seven times seven years. The Gospel of John is extensively structured on
sevens, as is the Book of Revelation, and Daniel prophesies about seventy weeks of years (7 X 10, Dan. 9:24).³There are seven miracles and seven discourses in the Gospel of John, and Revelation has seven seals, seven trumpets, and seven bowls.

The number three and a half is obviously seven cut in two. We first find it employed when Elijah prays for it not to rain, and it does not rain for forty-two months, or three and a half years. Three and a half is a curse. It is a time of completion, of creation or recreation cut short or in two. (James 5:17, I Kings 18:1, Daniel 9:27, Revelation 11:2, 12:6, 13:5). Jesus was crucified at about three and a half years into His ministry. The implication is that His life was cut off or cut in two. He bore the curse for us.

When someone enters office, it will take somewhere between seven and ten years to bring meaningful renewal.⁴Rosenstock-Huessy, E. (1947), The Christian future: or the modern mind outrun. London, S.C.M. Press. Cheyeny, T. Climbing Past 400 In New Church Attendence. In our current environment, this almost never happens. Most leaders are cut off in the middle. In my experience, most leaders are effectively cut off before they have been in office for four years, and most will quit somewhere around five years. This means that renewal never takes place and that the old dysfunctions just continue. Most of our institutions are not being renewed, and at some point the dysfunction could become complete.

In order to keep renewal from being brought by the leader, the leader must be removed or have his or her effectiveness destroyed. This happens through the process of blame and scapegoating. If a crisis can be found at hand, that will do. If one cannot be immediately found, one can always be manufactured. And this will happen with the greatest intensity somewhere between three and four years, at approximately three and a half years. In other words, the leader will be crucified. If he or she can survive this time, then they can make it to seven years, and be successful in bringing renewal. In this, they virtually pass through a resurrection.

If a resurrection is not experienced, then a new leader will be brought in, usually with great fanfare, to solve the problems that the previous leader could not resolve. What has really happened is that things are just going in vicious cycles, and the same thing in all likelihood will happen to the new leader. No real renewal will happen, and further decay and degeneration will continue to plague the institution, and will probably get worse.

Capturing the Conscience of the King

This forms the background of the capturing of the conscience of the king. Since the infamous 60s, when the fervor of the French Revolution was introduced into our universities and our cities, crucifixion of some sort is now almost inevitable in all positions of leadership in the United States.⁵This is true in most parts of the country, except the Deep South and those parts termed the Bible belt, which are still more stable. But in those parts of the country, the problem is often the opposite where officials stay and stay and form a good ol’ boys’ network that is just as impervious to renewal. In my experience, almost no leader in any significant position lasts more than five years in his or her tenure. As an example, I have discovered as a result of my ministry that university presidents in this country routinely play a game of musical chairs about every four years. A deep intuitive knowledge exists, that it is impossible to survive in any presidential, or chancellor position, beyond an early era before conflict has developed. Leaving at four years is often a way of avoiding what appears to be inevitable destruction in that position. It is leaving ahead of the final and inevitable destruction and end of intolerable and impossible conflict that has by that time already been inaugurated.

My entry into many offices has been an understanding of this and speaking of this reality to the various leaders I have met. Understandably, there is hope of something better or more coming of what appears to be inevitable destructive conflict. Interest in talking with me is usually prompted by sheer self interest. People pursue these positions often for noble professional reasons, as well as sometimes, out of sheer personal ambition. Someone coming to them and speaking of an inevitable destruction of their position in office is certainly an attention getter. However, that discussion sometimes follows some kind of power encounter that has also been an attention getter. The prediction of the nightmare of coming conflict that will be utterly destructive is sometimes the first opening that the counselor has to begin to speak wisdom. Almost nobody else will broach such a subject, and, if they do, it is never broached with hope. Hope in the coming darkness is the advisor to the king’s great weapon and entrance. Who but a Christian, and particularly a Christian pastor, could better offer the hope of resurrection from the dead?

Metropolitan Manifesto: Half the world’s population now lives in cities, and that is where the Church must learn to serve. Rev. Richard Bledsoe has spent his life as a pastor to city leaders in Colorado. Over the years, he has become the unofficial bishop of his city, a recognized adviser to the king. In Metropolitan Manifesto: On Being a Counselor to the King in a Pluralistic Empire, Bledsoe lays out the theology behind his work, explains how to minister to leaders, and shares the lessons of his long experience. The Metropolitan Manifesto is an essential, inspiring testament to the transformative power of the gospel in today’s world.

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“The modernist sees the Bible not as a revelation from God to man but as a history of certain (arbitrary) thoughts of men about God, wrapped in environment-friendly disposable packaging. Theology becomes a process of wringing the text for these abstract truths. These ‘truths’ are refined out of the ‘flux’ of the Biblical history and defined by their inability to contradict our own thinking.

The Covenantal (historical and literary) context of these ‘useful’ texts means almost nothing. For the modern mind, cultural context is everything. ‘Culture’ is the means of removing ourselves from the authority of Scriptures whose worldview is foreign to us. ‘That was their culture. Ours is different.’

Anything that offends our sensibilities or condemns sins that are accepted by our own culture is somehow not meant for us. Now, this does not mean that all of the Old Testament can be imported into our lives without qualification. But the standard for such qualification is not culture, ancient or modern, but Covenant. And it is certainly not the fleeting opinions of modern men.”

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Peter J. Leithart, Solomon Among the Postmoderns.

“It often seems to me that the night is much more
alive and richly colored than the day.”
—Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother Theo in 1888

Last week I had the privilege of viewing seven Van Goghs, all in one room, including Starry Night Over the Rhone, the depth and texture of which has to be seen to be believed.

The impressionists went out of their way not to paint what they saw. They stretched and strained the norms to communicate how it made them feel. They were expounding—explaining—reality. As Jordan writes, made in the image of God, man is the only symbol which is also a symbol-maker. [1]

This post has been slain and resurrected for inclusion in my 2015 book of essays, Inquietude.

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by Douglas Wilson (Introduction to the Cantus Christi Hymnal)

 

A common practice in our day is for Christians to speak of the “culture wars.” By this they usually mean the political and cultural skirmishes between leftist secular thinking and the more moderate and traditional thinking of believers. But the problem is that the phrase “culture wars” is a particularly inept way to refer to this problem. “Culture wars” would indicate a collision between two distinct cultures, but this is not what we have. Rather, we see intramural debates within one culture, and that culture is the form of modernity. One side of the debate is clear-sighted and wants the unbelieving assumptions permeating that culture to come to a full and complete fruition. The other side of the debate is confused, and wants to pretend that the culture surrounding them is something other than what it is.

Our phrases right-wing and left-wing came from the seating in the revolutionary legislature of the French Revolution. The moderate revolutionaries sat on the right, while the radicals sat on the left. They had their debates, of course, but they were all revolutionaries. What they held in common was more fundamental than what divided them. Separated by a ravine, at the bottom of the ravine they were still joined together. While Scripture speaks of a bottomless pit, a place of unending and horrible judgment, there is another bottomless chasm as well, a chasm which we must come to understand fully. This bottomless ravine is the divide between faith and unbelief—and nothing joins them at the bottom.

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“We reveal musically whether or not we are Christians who acknowledge that the praise of the Church should reflect and honor the glory of God in the face of Christ. Our praise of God should glorify the Lord both in the music and the lyrics, and one test of whether this is happening or not is whether our music and lyrics result in a true cultural antithesis.”

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We are not currently in a culture war, but we do need to get into a culture war. But there are prerequisites. Before you can have a war, you need weapons. And before you can have a culture war, you need to have a culture. And this is the central problem that confronts Christians today as they look around at the cultural manifestations of unbelief. What we see is the outworking of the “faith” established in the Enlightenment of the mid-eighteenth century. Many Christians live within this broad Enlightenment culture, but they belong to churches that have made their peace with this modernity. Our religion is safe, tucked and hidden away from all alarms. Behind our eyes and between our ears we have that gnostic spark that we call a personal relationship with Jesus. Nonbelievers have their equivalent spark, but all of them accept the external dictates of science and the state. We have accepted as a matter of faith that our internal spiritual reality does not and cannot have any particular cultural embodiment that might threaten the status quo.

The ancient Christians in Rome had this option open to them, an option that they refused to take. Rome allowed for the formation of a cultus privatus, religion that accepted its duty to not challenge the authority of the emperor. Because Christians would not accept this—Jesus Christ was Lord of all, and that included Caesar—they were viciously persecuted. Because we have accepted the modern equivalent, we are left alone like Lot in Sodom, free to wring our hands in dismay over the way things are going.

We call our spiritual weekend conferences retreats, which kind of figures. We evangelicals affirm our faith in an inerrant Bible—inerrant in the autographs, which of course no one possesses. We sing feelgood ditties in the public worship of God, but they are songs which have been aptly characterized as “Jesus is my boyfriend” songs. And you ask me how I know He lives; He lives within my heart. In all of this, we have not grown a Christian culture. Despite the fact that millions of Christians have lived on this continent for hundreds of years, we have not built a distinctively Trinitarian and Incarnational culture. We are too busy going along with the latest currents in the river of unbelief. But the Incarnation is the central reality of human history. Enlightenment philosophy would have preferred ultimate reality to be a disembodied abstract truth somewhere else, but the Scripture tells us that the Word was with God, the Word was God, and the Word took on flesh and dwelt among us. We are Christians, and our faith in Jesus Christ demands embodiment in every aspect of life, and settling for anything less than this is at root a denial of the lordship of Jesus Christ.

What does this have to do with the singing of psalms? Why are these things being written in a preface to a psalter/hymnal?

The need of the hour is reformation in the Church. As reformation comes to the Church and sweeps through it, the first thing we will notice is that reformation is nothing like revival. Revivals, at least as we have come to define them, are readily contained within the walls of our churches. Periodic religious excitements are part of our North American religious tradition, and we know the tradition. We go slack, we get stirred up, we go slack again. But Trinitarian, incarnational reformation requires embodiment in every aspect of life; it requires that the teaching of the Word of God take shape in our lives, in our culture. I never tire of saying that theology comes out our fingertips—and what actually comes out our fingertips is our true theology. We will discover in such reformation that the doctrine of Christ encompasses all that is true, all that is good, and all that is lovely. It takes on the form of a culture and affects how we prepare our meals and how we serve them. It affects how we plant our gardens, and how we cultivate the delights of the marriage bed. It affects the making of beer and the mowing of lawns. But at the center of all this is how reformation affects the public worship of God, and this is obviously related to the music we sing. Liturgical culture drives all other expressions of culture. The culture we exhibit in the presence of our gods is the defining element of every culture. If we would repent of our cultural polytheism, we must turn back to the worship of the living God, resolved to worship Him with reverence and godly fear, for He is a consuming fire. Because He is a consuming fire, we do not approach the unapproachable light humming a few snatches of Shine, Jesus Shine. Moses did not walk toward the burning bush with a praise CD in his Walkman.

We reveal musically whether or not we are Christians who acknowledge that the praise of the Church should reflect and honor the glory of God in the face of Christ. Our praise of God should glorify the Lord both in the music and the lyrics, and one test of whether this is happening or not is whether our music and lyrics result in a true cultural antithesis.

 

A quote from Theological Poetics: Typology, Symbol and the Christ, by Warren Gage of Knox Seminary:

A modern introduction to biblical typology should begin inductively with several examples of certain shadows and types from Old Testament passages widely acknowledged to be prefigurative in character, seeking to understand those types as interpreted by the authors of the New Testament.  After a number of such passages are examined, an index of the “criteria of certainty” should be proposed to distinguish legitimate “types” from suspected “allegories.” Principles of interpretation should then be announced, along with the obligatory caveats necessarily qualifying tentative proposals, all of which should be rationally defensible and clearly recognizable to reputable scholarship in the field.

Our approach will be quite different. We explicitly reject the premise that we can fully understand an ancient and sacred book by modern secular means and methods. We must begin by attempting to enter into the world of the Bible itself.[1]  This book is premised on the faith conviction, shared by the New Testament authors, that all the Scripture is about Jesus (John 5:39). We will presuppose that Moses and all the prophets wrote about the sufferings and glory of Christ (Luke 24:25-27; Acts 28:23). We will assume that the prophets of old were seeking to understand the person or time the Spirit of Christ within them was signifying the sufferings of Christ and the glories to follow (1 Pet 1:10-12). We will therefore begin deductively. We will turn the modernist project of typology on its head. 

Instead of attempting to understand the reality by the shadows, we will seek to understand the shadows by the reality. To adapt a classical metaphor, we will leave behind the skiagraphic images of the cave to gaze boldly at the radiance of the Son. Having beheld the Light that extinguishes our blindness, we will better be able to see how all the Scripture speaks about Jesus.

1. Our approach affirms an explicitly historical-grammatical approach to Biblical exegesis. However, while we believe conservative scholarship in modernity does an admirable work of analyzing the text of Scripturegrammatically, it is less capable, in our judgment, of reading the Biblehistorically. The modern exegete is generally analytic, but less synthetic than ancient texts require. His interpretation is literal, but less poetic. He is trained to think particularly within individual texts, but not canonically within the Bible.  Goethe envisioned the approach we are attempting when he commented, “Wer den Dichter will verstehen, muss in Dichters Lande gehen,” (Whoever will understand the poet must travel to the country of the poet). In other words, if we are to understand the types of the Bible, we must read the Bible through pre-modern eyes. We must consciously strive to enter into the mundus imaginalis of the first recipients of sacred Scripture. Only by this means can we read the Bible historically, as well as grammatically.

This is the intro to one JBA’s Amazon booklist. Too good a quote to pass up:

“In recent years postliberal theology and certain strands of Reformed thought have seen typology and chiasm as an essential method of biblical study.

While some forms of postmodernity are helpful to the church, most are not as avant garde as they pretend.

Ironically, liberals and most conservatives have the same method of bible study: you the individual must learn as many facts about the text as possible, importing back into the text foreign paradigms (or more accurately, bad foreign paradigms).

Typology, however, provides a subtle but deadly maneuver against modernity: it challenges modernity’s use of reason and forces it to think in terms of story and symbol, which by definition it can’t do.”

Yes, conservatives, he means you.

(Pic: the optic chiasma)

The white stone mentioned in Revelation 2:17 was always a mystery to me. There are plenty of commentators who make lame suggestions as to its meaning (they sound a bit like a student making up answers during an exam!), but James Jordan got me thinking about it along the lines of its subtle use in the Old Testament. I intend to cover this in a few posts, and consequently may ramble even a little more than usual, but everything is connected in the Bible’s symbol language. This is a bit of a journey, but I am sure we will find it rewarding. Oh, and you will need to switch off your modernistic mind and use your imagination. You know, that thing you only use when you read or watch fiction? You can use it to understand the Bible as well. I know, scholars most often don’t. To cover their inability to make much sense of texts such as the one we are about to inhale, they pretend the writings are a bit primitive. Why do we put one-eyed, colour-blind pencil pushers in charge of the kaleidoscope?

I’ll start with the structure of Zechariah 3, and you let the significance of the Tabernacle speeches (Ex. 25-31) and the annual feasts (Lev. 23) make more sense of what’s going on here as the Lord restores Israel with mere words (liturgy):

Sabbath – Genesis – Light (Ark)
Then he showed me Joshua the high priest standing before the Angel of the LORD, and Satan standing at his right hand to oppose him.

Passover – Exodus – Waters (Laver & Veil)
And the LORD said to Satan, “The LORD rebuke you, Satan! The LORD who has chosen Jerusalem rebuke you! Is this not a brand plucked from the fire?” Now Joshua was clothed with filthy garments, and was standing before the Angel. Then He answered and spoke to those who stood before Him, saying, “Take away the filthy garments from him.” And to him He said, “See, I have removed your iniquity from you [Laver], and I will clothe you with rich robes [Veil].”

Firstfruits – Leviticus (new priesthood) – Land & Sea (Jew & Gentile divide)
And I said, “Let them put a clean turban on his head.” So they put a clean turban on his head, and they put the clothes on him. And the Angel of the LORD stood by.

Pentecost – Numbers (law revealed) – Ruling Lights
Then the Angel of the LORD admonished Joshua, saying, “Thus says the LORD of hosts: ‘If you will walk in My ways, And if you will keep My command, Then you shall also judge My house, And likewise have charge of My courts; I will give you places to walk Among these who stand here.

Trumpets – Deuteronomy (next generation army) - Swarms of Birds and Fish
‘Hear, O Joshua, the high priest, You and your companions who sit before you, For they are a wondrous sign; For behold, I am bringing forth My Servant the BRANCH.

Day of Atonement (“Covering”) – Joshua – Land Animals & Man
For behold, the stone that I have laid before Joshua: Upon the stone are seven eyes. Behold, I will engrave its inscription,’ Says the LORD of hosts, ‘And I will remove the iniquity of that land in one day.

Tabernacles (“ingathering”) – Judges – A Wedding Feast at God’s Table
In that day,’ says the LORD of hosts, ‘Everyone will invite his neighbor under his vine and under his fig tree.’ “

In his lectures on Zechariah, James Jordan explains that the Hebrew phrase “Holy to the Lord” is seven letters, seven engravings, and that the Hebrew for eye, opening and engraving are the same word. The stone has the same engravings as the ones on the High Priest’s golden forehead. But why?

WHITSTON1

It seems we either read the Bible carefully but with the blinkers of remnant higher criticism (modernism), or we ‘get’ the narrative and typology but disregard the basic boundaries of responsible interpretation (postmodernism). Rich Lusk writes:

Biblical Theology requires us to learn to read the biblical narrative from within. We are insiders to the story of Scripture. It’s our story. We have to learn to read the Bible canonically. We have to allow the Word to absorb the world rather than allowing the world to absorb the Word. We have to take Scripture’s outlook as normative rather than imposing another worldview on our reading of Scripture. We must learn to read the Bible organically, in terms of itself. We should read the Bible the same way Peter, Susan, Lucy, and Edmond would read The Chronicles of Narnia: as a story not only for us, but about us.

Reading the Bible organically means reading it intertextually and typologically. Intertextual reading listens for echoes of and allusions to other passages within the canon, using Scripture to interpret Scripture. Typological reading looks for repeating patterns within the unfolding storyline of Scripture. Biblical typology is focused on totus Christus — the whole Christ, head and body, Jesus and the church. Typology means reading the Bible on its own terms, as a revelation of the suffering and glory of Christ (Lk. 24). As we move from type(s) to antitype, there is both correspondence and escalation.

Read his full article here.