“…who were the Pharisees in their real setting? Where did they come from? There are no such people in the Old Testament, but when we get to Matthew they seem to be hiding behind every rock and shrub.”

Essay by Daniel Hoffman

If people today know anything about the Pharisees, they know them as the villains of the New Testament. Those who know a little more probably have a conception of the Pharisees as overly strict, eating their gruel with a scowl and casting condemnation in every direction, while Jesus was open and chill. Some might go beyond this and imagine the Pharisees as the perfect (or perfectly bad) model of self-salvation: The Pharisees wanted to save themselves by their good works, but the New Testament (it’s thought) is all about salvation through faith, and works are no big deal.

But who were the Pharisees in their real setting? Where did they come from? There are no such people in the Old Testament, but when we get to Matthew they seem to be hiding behind every rock and shrub. What was their reason for being? What was their agenda? If they were so awful, why does Jesus seem perfectly friendly toward Nicodemus? Why were there Pharisees in the Christian assembly (Acts 15:5)? Why did Paul still consider himself a Pharisee even after his conversion (Acts 23:6)? The goal of this post is to provide some context on who the Pharisees actually where, to help us better understand their role in the biblical story.

When the Jews began returning to their homeland after the Babylonian exile (2 Chron 36:23), they were not really getting their independence, and they were certainly not experiencing the kingdom of God. Cyrus was the messiah of Yahweh, a shepherd for Israel (Isa 44:28; Isa 45:1), but he was a Gentile; surely not the true messianic king. Israel had been rescued and redeemed from Babylon (Mic 4:10), and that was well and good, but Israel was far from subduing the surrounding nations who had been gathered against her (Mic 4:13). In fact, it wasn’t long after the return that the Persians themselves were superseded by the Greeks under Alexander, and Israel fell victim to the power struggles resulting from Alexander’s early death. You can read about this in 1 Maccabees chapter 1. The point most relevant here is that the Greeks and their culture came to so dominate the whole Mediterranean world that the Jews were faced with the question of conformity: Adopt Greek customs or not? Adopt only some? Which ones? Conform outwardly while maintaining inner separation? Prove your zeal for the Law by violent resistance and revolution? Retreat from society to live in a pure, isolated community?

In 164 B.C., the family of Judas Maccabee (Judas “the Hammer”) successfully revolted against the Greek ruler Antiochus, and for a while Israel had its independence. The family of Judas became the new ruling dynasty (called the Hasmonean dynasty after one of the family members), and it was not without its problems. There was often collusion with pagan powers, there was the blurring of distinction between priestly and kingly functions, there were assassinations and cruelties galore. If the return from exile hadn’t given way to the promised kingdom of God, the successful Maccabean revolt hadn’t done it either, despite being celebrated still today at Hanukkah and despite serving as a beacon of hope for many Jews in subsequent decades who still harbored dreams of throwing off the pagan yoke.

It was in that situation that the Pharisees arose. As noted above, the great and immediate questions of the day had to do with issues of conformity. How exactly was Israel to maintain its distinction as Yahweh’s covenant people? What stance could a faithful Jew take with regard to the ever-encroaching Gentile ways of life? It’s easy to imagine that in this climate, a party would take shape that saw itself as defending the old ways—the traditions of Israel—against both Gentile encroachment from outside and compromising corruption from inside. Such a group did arise, and that group was the Pharisees.

The Pharisees as a whole were not idiots. Greek (and very soon Roman) power was the reality, and it had to be responded to in some sort of realistic manner. As N.T. Wright suggests,

“[F]aced with social, political, and cultural ‘pollution’ at the level of national life as a whole, one natural reaction . . . was to concentrate on personal cleanness, to cleanse and purify an area over which one did have control as compensation for the impossibility of cleansing or purifying and area—the outward and visible political one—over which one had none. The intensifying of the biblical purity regulations within Pharisaism may well therefore invite the explanation that they are the individual analogue of the national fear of, and/or resistance to, contamination from, or oppression by, Gentiles.“

The Pharisaical focus on things like purity and Sabbath-keeping were thus driven, at least at the level of ideology, by a strong desire to maintain Israel’s distinction from the surrounding nations. It’s also important to realize that Pharisees had no official power. They weren’t even official teachers of the Law. They had no legal authority as Pharisees, although people in positions of power could have been Pharisees. They existed as a pressure group. An analogy which may be helpful is today’s Tea Party. The Tea Party is a “pressure group” which tries to do what it can in society to push for conservative politics—especially with regard to economics and foreign policy. The “Tea Party” as such has no legal authority, but they have succeeded in getting some of “their people” elected to office and they do exert considerable pressure on the Republican Party. Wright again:

“The Pharisees sought to bring moral pressure to bear upon those who had actual power; to influence the masses; and to maintain their own purity as best they could. Their aim, so far as we can tell, was never simply that of private piety for its own sake . . . Their goals were the honor of Israel’s god, the following of his covenant charter, and the pursuit of the full promised redemption of Israel.“

Thus Saul, for example, when he wanted to arrest Christians in Damascus, needed letters of authority from the high priest (Acts 9:1-2). In the early years of the Pharisees’ activity, the Hasmonean rulers were still interested in maintaining some appearance of ruling in accord with Israel’s Law. The Romans and Herods didn’t care so much about this, and so by the time of Jesus the Pharisees perhaps had less influence with the ruling elite, but could still hold themselves up as models for the common people. Their goals could take on different practical forms: Supporting armed resistance on the one hand, or withdrawing into Torah study and on the other (this second option is illustrated by Gamaliel in Acts 5:34, who recommended that the new Christian sect be left alone. Saul, already mentioned, would have been more in line with the first option of using physical violence).

It is certainly the case that the Pharisees’ insistence on maintaining the purity and separateness of the covenant people was driven by the belief that such a condition would find favor with God. What could be wrong with seeking to enforce—and with compelling others to enforce, either with violence or moral influence—Yahweh’s own Torah? But an official or theoretical ideology is a far cry from understanding and applying the Torah rightly, and it’s a far cry from the condition of the heart. Jesus rebuked the Pharisees for both of these things, for allowing the Tradition to usurp the injunctions of Scripture (Matt 15:5-6), and for the hypocrisy of their hearts (Matt 23:25).

Was Pharisaism wrong in principle? It doesn’t seem so. Yahweh had given his people the Law, and had called them to be separate from the nations. In the Gospels, the Pharisaical problem was that they were not following the Torah in truth, and were not following it in its true intent, which was to serve the Love of God and neighbor. They had allowed their practices to take over and usurp these overriding concerns. Many of them also were in fact lovers of money and privilege (Luke 16:14-15). Jesus rebukes them for this hypocrisy and for misunderstanding the Scriptures they claimed to believe and defend, and their wickedness was real and profound—it lead them to plot the murder of Christ (John 18:3).

Republished with permission.

In 1 Corinthians 11:7 we encounter a verse that many might find perplexing.

For a man indeed ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God; but woman is the glory of man.

I believe that careful attention to the logic of this verse is absolutely crucial to unlocking the puzzle of the difference between the female helper apostle, and the male helper apostle.

If one were reading without paying too much attention, one might fall into the trap of reading ‘man … is the image and glory of God; but woman is the image and glory of man.’ However, the text does not say that the woman is the image of the man. The woman is the glory of the man, but not his image. We will return at a later point to the question of whether women are also the images of God.
Who then is the image of the man? The image of the man is the priestly son. Eve was the glory of Adam, but it was Seth who was his image, the expression of his authority in the world: ‘And Adam lived one hundred and thirty years, and begot a son in his own likeness, after his image, and named him Seth’ (Genesis 5:3).

The blessing of the father is given to the sons who bear his image in the world. The firstborn’s blessing generally involves the laying on of hands. As the father leans upon the head of his son, he impresses his image upon him. His son then represents him and his authority in the world. The chief blessing of the right hand naturally belongs to the firstborn son, who is the chief image of the father. In Genesis 48:12-22, for example, we see Isaac giving Joseph the firstborn’s double portion (v.22), through laying his hand on both of Joseph’s sons’ heads (but reversing their birth order), thereby giving Joseph two tribal portions in Ephraim and Manasseh in contrast to the single portions received by his brothers.

As N.T. Wright and others have observed, Scripture’s use of the concept of ‘image’ should be understood as the visible representation or expression of a person’s authority and rule. The conceptual connection between image and authority is a tight one, and sheds considerable light on our current questions.

The relationship between image and sonship is clear elsewhere in Scripture, especially in references to the person of Christ. For instance, in Colossians 1:15 we read of Christ: ‘He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation.’ It is the son who represents – who is the embodiment – of the authority of his father. The man’s possession of a son is his possession of authority, much as having a wife is having glory. Hebrews 1:2ff. reveals the same connection between the firstborn, image, and authority: as God’s image and firstborn Son, Christ is God’s strength and authority at work in the world.

All of this leads to an important conclusion: women cannot represent, or image, the authority of the man, as that is not the form of representation for which they were created.

Alastair Roberts, Representation and Ordination.

Art: Adam and Eve by Tamara de Lempicka

A quote from N. T. Wright on Pentecost (pilfered from Uri’s blog):

There’s an old chorus which begins, ‘Turn your eyes upon Jesus; look full in his wonderful face’. That’s a great invitation, but sadly it goes on ‘and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace.’ There is a truth in that, but actually in today’s gospel a very different note is sounded: when we look fully at Jesus, risen, ascended and glorified, and when Jesus sends his Spirit on his people, then the things of earth will be seen in a new, sharp and properly disturbing light. And instead of escaping from the world, retreating like an embarrassed chameleon to one colour-field only, we are sent into the world, not to take on its colour but to reveal the new combined reality of heaven and earth, to live in that reality – which we do in sacrament here, and in service outside – and to declare to the awkward and unready world that Jesus is Lord. Pentecost is the end of the great cycle of events that began with Advent; but it is of course the beginning of the new world, the world of God’s kingdom, of his combined heaven-and-earth reality, the world in which, by praise and prayer and prophecy, we are now called to live without embarrassment and to love without measure.

I love the idea of Spirit-filled people being full colour in a monochrome world. Jesus Himself was more of everything than we are, including more emotional, but perfectly appropriate in every instance, and perfectly genuine.

Tom needs to realise that the first century story actually moved beyond Pentecost to Trumpets, etc. and the rest is history (see J. B. Jordan). But that’s another story.

Also, he is rightfully speaking against the escapist sentiment in the old chorus. But I’m not sure it’s totally incorrect. The pattern is that we receive kingdom office through obedience. When we are tempted to seize the things of the world, we look to Jesus. The things that once charmed us grow neither dim nor disturbing. Both their significance and their insignificance becomes apparent to the Spirit-lit eye. The things of earth are good, but we are to view them with the eyes of stewards, not those of hording tinpot despots.

Steven Wedgeworth wrote an excellent piece called The Goodness of Stuff. Here’s a few quotes:

“…the Lutherans and Reformed argued that all creational institutions had their own legitimacy.  Both spiritual and physical things were created by the good God, and thus apart from removing sin, no “extra” spiritual blessing needed to be added to physical things.”

“Contemporary moral philosopher Charles Taylor routinely promotes what he calls, ‘the affirmation of the ordinary life,’ and he states that this found some of its greatest defenders in the Protestant Reformation.  This was true precisely because, as Taylor writes, ‘One of the central points common to all Reformers was their rejection of mediation.’ Creation had no need to be mediated through the institutional church.  Ordinary life was good in itself, according to the Reformers, and as Taylor goes on to argue, this affirmation of creation and humanity lead to the successive social gains that we now enjoy.”

“Whenever Christians set out to ‘reclaim’ the culture, they invariably do a bad job of it. This is usually because they have given too much credit to the devil. As Uncle Screwtape has told us, the demons are actually incapable of producing anything good. Indeed as Lewis teaches us elsewhere, along with Augustine and Athanasius, the devil is incapable of creating anything at all. Whenever we engage cultural expressions, we should keep in mind that at the bottom of each and every one of them is a remnant of the good. A proper culture will have much in common with the original culture, with natural culture.”

But then, back to Tom. Stuff is good, but like Jesus’ willingness to leave all that He possessed with the Father in heaven, we leave our stuff (not disturbing or dim stuff but good stuff) to go into the world to serve. We are willing to give it all up so that there can be more stuff, just like we leave comfy home in the morning to go to work and come home with a comfy paycheque.

Missionaries live in poverty so that Christ can transform culture, not just people. The transformation of the people produces an honest, integrated culture that God blesses until the cup runs over. [1]

The Bible is full of rich people and plunder; rich people who horde and rich people who serve. Zacchaeus is a perfect example of the transformation from one to the other that the Spirit brings. Was his stuff still good? Yes. It was not disturbing, but it was not as alluring. He became a rich channel instead of a sinkhole. It became a greater blessing to give good stuff to others. The culture wasn’t rejected. It was enjoyed in community and with discernment. Jesus didn’t refuse to transform stones into bread because bread is bad. Nazirites didn’t abstain from grapes and grape products because grapes are evil. They had one eye on the future. All good soldiers die for the next generation.

Unlike Babette, we cast our bread upon the waters and expect to see some returns. There is no Last Supper. That’s not how God works. Where welfare failed to transform third world cultures, micro-loans are succeeding because there is a Covenant involved, a day of reckoning for the stewards, blessings and curses.

The New Testament brought a greater appreciation of God’s assessment of us as His vessels, His possessions. Peter Leithart writes:

In an essay in Engaging Economics: New Testament Scenarios and Early Christian Reception, Aaron J. Kuecker contrasts the economics of the Spirit in Luke-Acts with the health and wealth gospel on offer in some “Spirit-filled” churches. Instead of guaranteeing an increase of net worth, the coming of the Spirit opens believers outward in generous use of their gifts and goods. Economics is Spirit or Satanic,[2] a point that Kuecker emphasizes by contrasting Ananias and Sapphira, who falsify the Spirit by their greed, with Barnabas.

In sum, “Possession of/by the Holy Spirit explicitly turns people away from the self and outward toward the broader community and the ‘other.’  The outcome of this allocentric identity is that people, and not possessions, become valued as one’s ‘own’. . . . Spirit-influence thus leads to the use of possessions freely for the ‘other,’ as is exemplified by Barnabas.  In clear contrast, the influence of Satan turns people away from the broader community and the ‘other’ and inward toward the self. The outcome of this egocentric identity is that possessions, and not people, become valued as one’s ‘own.’ . . . Satan prompts a treacherous turn away from the community and leads to destruction. . . . The Spirit prompts a turn toward the community and leads to restored relationships and times of refreshing.’”

So, the good stuff grows strangely dim only because we’ve got our eyes on something better. It’s not because stuff itself is bad or disturbing. It’s because something else is outshining it, but it’s not Jesus. More on this tomorrow.

Also, what do you think is the significance of Zacchaeus being in a tree?

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[1] And when a culture turns from God, the abundance must be manufactured. See Building A Cage Out of Freedom.
[2] See Worship as Commerce.

My friend Matt has been blogging about how postmodernism, with its openness to narrative, is a great opportunity for the gospel. But evangelicals need to sort themselves out first. Otherwise, to the world, they are just a bunch of Patsys. Patsy Biscoes that is.

The big problem is the fact that many evangelicals plainly do not believe the “stories” in the Bible. Compromised with the world’s academia, they lose any real authority to share these “stories” with any gravity whatsoever. Can you imagine any of the patriarchs sharing “stories” around the fire and qualifying it with “but this is just a true myth.” No wonder evangelicalism is a laughing stock to its vocal, “enlightened” opponents.

Then we have the gooey emergents on the other end, who love stories but whether or not they have any basis in reality is irrelevant.

Gnostics on the right. Gnostics on the left. Western Christianity is given the status of ideology and nothing more. And yet God still works in it by His Spirit. “Lord, forgive our arrogant, apostate, vaccillating, intellectualised, world-pleasing unbelief. It must be a stink in your nostrils.”

James Jordan recently wrote:

“This is just plain sad. A few shards and fragments from the ancient world are blown up into a whole system of thought that contradicts the Bible, and evangelicals then buy into it. It may be time for serious Christians to pack it in as far as the evangelical scholarly world is concerned. We can learn from them here and there, just as we learn from Jews and liberals here and there. But unless it shapes up, the future does not lie with this compromised religion.” [1]

Telling stories when we ourselves are not sure of their validity is not the best way to share the faith. It is an embarrassment. It’s a good thing the pomos will go for the story regardless. We need the narratives, but we also need rigorous faith-filled scholarship. Patsy Biscoe’s faith puts the faith of many scholars to shame.

Matt comments:

That’s why I love Tom Wright. He hasn’t hidden behind the pulpit, nor retreated into the academy. he straddles both worlds with a vigorous Christ centered scholarship. he truly believes the narrative of the bible, and is concerned hold theology and history together, without it slipping into just mythology.

Better get a better metanarrative

Matt also writes concerning the relationship between modernism and postmodernism:

…the enemy of our enemy is our friend. Postmodernism declares that all such large stories — “metanarratives” — are destructive and enslaving, and must be deconstructed. The pomo attack on gospel-denying modernism is useful for us. Postmodernism is a necessary critique of modernity. But the current problem is that though the postmodern turn in philosophy and culture has sneered at the great modernist imperial dream, it hasn’t been able to shake it. We live in a time where modernity and postmodernity refer not so much to a datable chronological period but more to two different moods and controlling narratives. Our world is both modern and postmodern. And I don’t see this changing for sometime. We can not go back to being just modern. And could postmodernism survive without the thing is it critiquing? The two ideas have become utterly dependent on each other.

Modernism, like feminism and communism, simply replaced the old exploitation with a new exploitation. Postmodernism doesn’t even have this to offer. Postmodernism is not a system in itself. It is just a critique, which is why it can’t “shake off” modernism. Pomo is helpful in exposing the cracks in modernism so we can inject the gospel, the only true builder of cultures.

The foundation of modernism is evolution, and the currently popular history of “ancient man”. Until this is thrown out, Western Christianity is still stuck within a modernist metanarrative, and can only ever be a manmade ideology. [2]

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[1] James Jordan, Did God Speak Hebrew to Adam, Biblical Horizons #209.
[2] See also The Only True Foundation for Anthropology

“Then there is Blomberg’s misunderstanding of the relationship of the Reformers and culture.

‘Fixate on the Reformers’ (understandable) preoccupation with how an individual becomes right with God (crucial in its day against medieval Catholicism) and one may miss the bigger picture, in which the fulfillment of God’s covenant with Abraham through the children of Israel as progenitor of the Messiah looms even larger.’

Notice what is being juxtaposed here. The Reformers had an individualistic fixation on getting individuals into heaven when they die. But we, upon whom the new perspective has shone, now understand that there is a “bigger picture.” I see. And what did the Reformers do with their narrow vision? Well, they toppled kings, transformed laws, overhauled cultures, settled a continent, built nations, founded schools and colleges, inspired musicians and painters, and we could continue in this vein for quite a while. And what do we do, entranced as we are by the new perspective? We write academic papers, download podcasts of academic lectures that we can listen to in the privacy of our ear buds, and we go white in the face if conservative Christians suggest that Jesus might have an opinion about the ongoing slaughter of the unborn. John Piper, with his preaching on the pro-life issue, challenges the principalities and powers. The soft statism that goes with trendy theology these days does nothing of the kind — it simply suggests (but not too loudly) that we need kinder, gentler principalities and powers.”

Ecclesia reformata semper reformanda est.

“Reformed theology should be reforming theology, for the Church – finite, sinful, not yet fully glorified – always stands in need of God’s reformation, by his Spirit, through his Word taught, trusted, and obeyed. And so, Ecclesia Reformanda exists to assist the Church in the ongoing task of listening to Scripture in all its depth and richness. It will seek to be truly theological, distinctively Reformed, and prayerfully reforming.”

An “ongoing theological conversation” cannot be tolerated by the academy. James Jordan writes:

“We looked last time at the problem of academic theology. Systematic theology tends to become paramount, a “Greek” discipline that specializes in comparison and contrast… what the academic guards is not the woman, not the Bride, but rather ideas. Loyalty to ideas, and sometimes loyalties to the men who came up with the ideas, is more important than loyalty to the Church and to the Spirit. Does N. T. Wright not say things exactly they way Geerhardus Vos did? Then we might fight him. He must be put down. A spirit of churchly catholicity, of humility before the infinity of the Word and the long future of the church ahead of us, is simply absent, or certainly seems to be.

We come full circle now, for the timelessness of systematic theology, and its accompanying arrogance, is naturally reinforced by amillennial theological perspectives. Postmillennialism should lead to humility, since we know that 10,000 years from now people will do theology better than we do. The amillennial perspective, though, since it has a blocked future, is naturally inclined to believe that pretty much all truth has been grasped and enshrined in the arcane and often unBiblical language of its confessions of faith. It is this, not the Bride of Christ, that must be guarded. Or perhaps, since we know that only a handful of people are going to be saved, guarding the Bride of Christ means condemning everyone who does not say things just the way we do.

The conflict in the churches right now is over this very issue. The Federal Vision Conversation, of which I am happily a part, is postmillennial and catholic in its orientation. We don’t think we have it all sorted out, which is why we are a Conversation. We are within historic Calvinism, but not in the amillennial and sectarian part of it. We are attacked for reading too widely. We are attacked for not saying “shibboleth” the right way. We are attacked for being way too conservative when it comes to the Bible. Those attacking us have it all sorted out. They know it all. It’s all settled. There is no future. There’s nothing to discuss. Our Conversation is a scandal to them. Clearly, with our catholic outlook, we are on the road to Rome, or somewhere bad.”1

Surely we can guard against heresy and still progress in our understanding of the Bible. But many will not permit an “ongoing conversation.” There is a new journal for pastors, theological students, and scholars, that seeks to serve the Church in its ongoing reformation according to God’s Word.

“Ecclesia Reformanda is distinctively Reformed, with a contemporary cutting edge. It presents some of the best in British Reformed thinking and writing to serve the Church, her teachers, and her Lord. The journal covers all of the theological subdisciplines, and early issues will include articles on intertextuality in Romans 2, poetry in James, the place of children in the new covenant according to Jeremiah 32, Jim Jordan’s hermeneutics, Herman Bavinck’s theological method, and John Owen’s doctrine of justification. Future editions will contain articles on ethics, public theology, and pastoral counselling. Editorial Board: Matthew Mason, Ros Clarke, Neil Jeffers, and David Field.”

www.ecclesiareformanda.org.uk

Outside the U.S. most optimistic (postmillennial) Christians are in churches that aren’t, so it’s good to see some Brits getting together and I look forward to seeing where this goes. The lineup for the first issues looks interesting.

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1 James B. Jordan, Biblical Horizons Newsletter No. 197: How To Do Reformed Theology Nowadays, Part 6.

Peter Leithart writes:

NT Wright has long argued that first-century Jews considered themselves to be in a continuing exile. The canon of the Hebrew Bible suggests as much.

If we take our arrangement (the LXX arrangement), the Hebrew Bible ends with Malachi, who certainly doesn’t see a gloriously restored Israel when he looks around him.

If we take the MT arrangement, the Hebrew Bible ends with the decree of Cyrus; it’s as if the return has never happened.

Either way, the canonical arrangement supports Wright’s contention.1

I had a long debate with my friend Matt who holds Wright’s view. I see the point. But regardless of the arrangement of the canon, what does the Bible teach?

I subscribe to Jordan’s view that the exile/restoration prophecies actually concern the exile/restoration. When Jeremiah predicted a New Covenant with Israel and Judah, it was the one ratified at the beginning of Zechariah. It came to pass, no bull. Those who apply the prophecies of restoration directly to the first century get it wrong.2

The Jews may have thought they were still in captivity. But they also thought the second Temple was less glorious than Solomon’s. Ezekiel’s Temple was a vision of an empire-wide temple made of people, synagogues spread throughout the empire. It was a picture of a restored Israel’s greater spiritual influence, in the same way that Revelation’s new Jerusalem is a picture of the church.

Like many Christians today, they were impatient for the Messiah to come and “wash behind their ears”, fix all their problems, when He had commanded them to conquer the world with their witness. The exile was long over, and atoned for as well. The Jews failed to understand the times they lived in, and so do we in many cases. Like Israel in Ezekiel 37, the first century church was an Israel resurrected for warfare.

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1 Peter J. Leithart, Continuing Exile and Canon.

2 Doug Wilson’s excellent new commentary on Hebrews, Christ and His Rivals, still does this from what I have read so far. To be sure, the apostles quoted the prophets because they prefigured the first century, but the details of the prophecies anchor them in previous history.