We are confronted almost daily with the reality of evil people at large in our world. Robert Mugabe is the latest in the long line of villainous leaders to dominate headlines. President of Zimbabwe since 1980, he [...]]]> This article was printed in the Winter edition of New Wine magazine, and is reproduced here by permission.

We are confronted almost daily with the reality of evil people at large in our world. Robert Mugabe is the latest in the long line of villainous leaders to dominate headlines. President of Zimbabwe since 1980, he has inflicted untold misery on his people—so why has he been allowed to continue? It is striking that Western policy in recent years has often appeared to be shaped by response to individuals, evil leaders who need to be toppled. So the second Gulf War in Iraq was directed specifically against the regime of Saddam Hussein. And it was seen to be a triumph of Western action that Gaddafi was deposed as leader of Libya. However evil certain systems or cultures appear to be, it is evil people that we feel the need to focus on.

Questions in Scripture

Scripture appears similarly to be concerned with evil individuals, and the challenge they offer to our understanding of God’s love and power. What will God’s response be to evil and obstinate Pharoah, oppressing and enslaving God’s people? asks the writer of Exodus. What will God do about a succession of kings of Israel and Judah who ‘do evil in the sight of the Lord’? asks the writer of 1 and 2 Kings. How can God not only allow the foreign leader Cyrus to flourish, but actually make use of him in liberating his people? asks Isaiah. What sense can we make of the tyrannical kings Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar and Darius as we face tyranny in our own day? asks Daniel. The questions continue to haunt us.

In an extended reflection on this question, the Davidic Psalm 37 starts with the injunction ‘Do not fret because of the wicked’, a call to let go of the anxiety we feel at the evil we see around us. But perhaps in the West that is not our real problem. The real challenge is to feel concern about evil more deeply; most of our experience is at arm’s length, as we are presented on television or the internet with bite-sized packages of evil, often simplified and made neat and tidy. This edited evil is easy to boo, and it is also clear who we ought to cheer on as the champions of goodness and freedom. And this touches on a key issue.

Evil Within

Never mind the figureheads—what about the henchmen? For every Mugabe or Gaddafi, there are hundreds, possibly thousands around them who have supported them and helped them gain and retain the power they now misuse. Hitler was, in the 1930s, regarded as a national hero by many, saving Germany from the ignominy of humiliation by the Allied powers. And those ‘many’ included much of the Church, including at first Dietrich Bonhoeffer, even though he is better known for his later change of mind. The challenge of the evil person is a test of our eyesight; it is easy to see evil at a distance, but how good are we at spotting it close at hand?

One of the most challenging books on my shelves is Christopher Browning’s Ordinary Men. It tells the story of a reserve battalion in Poland in World War II, and introduces us to cheerful, friendly, ordinary men who killed without hesitation or apparent remorse for years on end, in docile obedience to an authority they happily accepted as legitimate. As such it is a chilling reminder of what we as humans are capable of when we insulate ourselves from the reality of evil on our doorstep.

If we are expecting God to stop the ‘big people’ doing evil, why don’t we want him to stop the ‘small people’ doing evil? How evil do we need to be for God to intervene? What would life look like if God prevented all my evil thoughts and actions?

There is a cartoon doing the rounds on the internet at the moment, with the following saying: ‘I wanted to ask God why there was so much evil in the world, when he could do something to prevent it. But I was afraid that he would ask me the same question.’

Speaking Truth to Power?

Last week I attended a conference on biblical studies in San Francisco. It is an annual gathering of the world’s leading scholars, and there were some fascinating papers on a whole range of important issues. But the image I will remember most is that of the homeless, begging on almost every street corner, often representing lives wrecked by poverty, drink and drugs. One woman, her face covered with sores, was simply unable to take part in any kind of coherent conversation. I was challenged about my immediate response to the plight of such people—but I was even more challenged by the bigger question: was I prepared to give up all the things I enjoy from the systems we live by which creates these problems? The ‘free market’ system which has left these people destitute is also the system which allowed me to travel half way around the world and stay in a fabulous hotel. Am I prepared to protest against the evils of this system?

From my study in college I have a view of a beautiful blue cedar tree. Underneath it is a plaque showing it was planted in memory of Janai Luwum, who trained at St John’s when it was based in London, and eventually became Archbishop of Uganda. He was prepared to speak truth to power, in the form of Idi Amin, and he paid for it with his life. He was ready to oppose the people and systems of evil in his world.

Future Hope and Present Action

Psalm 37 ends on a note of hope. The psalmist returns to see what has happened to the wicked, and they have been swept away in God’s judgement. ‘I have seen the wicked and ruthless flourishing like a luxuriant native tree, but they soon passed away and were no more; though I looked for them, they could not be found’ (vv 35–36). This phrase is picked up in Rev 12.8, where Satan and his angels no longer have a place, ‘because of the blood of the lamb’ (v 11). It is Jesus’ death and resurrection which marks victory over all forces of evil. It is a victory which we begin to know now, in our own lives, in our world as we follow his example of faithful witness, but which in the end we will only see when he comes again.

Why does God allow people to do evil? In the end it is a mystery. But it is a mystery that calls us to response by self-examination, by courageous action, and by hopeful anticipation that one day ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away’ (Rev 21.4).

There are three main ways this has been [...]]]> Like many, I had to preach on Mark 13 yesterday, though unlike most it was a dialogue sermon where I was asked (prepared) questions, and we then opened it up to the ‘floor’ for further questions. So I had to make my mind up about this passage!

There are three main ways this has been read:

1. The ‘traditional’ approach, which goes back at least as far as Jerome in the fourth century, that this is primarily about the ‘end of the world’ though with specific predictions about the destruction of the temple mixed in.

This has a number of problems to it:

• The main one is Jesus stern saying in v 30 ‘Amen I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have happened.’ There is some wriggling about the meaning of genea embedded in an NIV footnote as ‘race’—but all other uses of this in Mark (and the other gospels) make it clear that it really does mean ‘this generation.’
• To solve this, commentators for the last couple of hundred years have seen a Jewish ‘apocalypse’ embedded here and (clumsily) incorporated. So in fact in context what Jesus’ saying means is ‘Amen I say to you, this generation will not pass away until around three of the five things I have just mentioned have happened.’ This is very unsatisfactory since, like much source criticism, it suggests that neither Mark nor his first readers really understood what Mark himself had written, and had not understood what Jesus said.
• It fails to pay attention to Mark’s language. So Cranfield at one point comments on ‘Mark’s depiction of the Parousia’ without noticing that the word parousia is conspicuous by its absence in Mark 13.

This was the view I was brought up with, and it was explained by means of the ‘prophetic telescope’: when you are looking to the future, you see things in the near and distant future next to one another, so you might not explain things in order. This does make Jesus look like he does not really know what he is talking about!

2. Tom Wright’s view is that this ‘whole chapter’ is about the destruction of the Temple (see Jesus and the Victory of God pp 339f and Mark for Everyone 176f). (However, he appears to have a different view when going to read the more extended version in Matthew 24–25; the ‘eschatological’ parables do in fact appear to be about ‘final judgement’.) A key to his argument is the language about the ‘coming of the Son of Man’:

• ‘The Son of Man coming on the clouds’ is an exact citation of Dan 7.13 LXX, and of course the ‘coming’ is not a coming to earth but a coming to the Ancient of Days, the Power (meaning the God of Israel) for vindication as the one personifying the faithful people of God. This is the sense it is used in the trial scene in Mark 14.62, and makes most sense of being understood as referring to Jesus’ vindication in his resurrection and the subsequent preaching of the good news about him. Note that ‘coming’ in this saying is erchomenos, the participle of erchomai, to come or approach to, and not parousia meaning ‘presence’ and used of the Emperor’s coming to cities in the Empire.
• The language of sun, moon and stars in Mark 13.24 comes from Isaiah 13 and 34, and refers to the fall and judgement of great empires and political powers (in this case, Assyria and Edom). It is also used in Joel 2, and strikingly is cited by Peter in Acts 2.17f. Peter appears to think that these ‘apocalyptic events’ are happening in his day.

3. Dick France sets out a third position, with agrees with much of Tom Wright’s revision of the traditional understanding of this passage—though (as Dick pointed out to me!) he was proposing this some years earlier, and so might well have influenced Wright’s own thinking. Contra Wright, he believes that the last part (from v 32) is about Jesus’ return, for several reasons:

• Although there is quite a strong all a (‘but’) at v 24, the much stronger break comes in v 32 (though this is obscured in NIV and other English translations). This is the phrase peri de ‘Now concerning…’ which indicates quite strongly a change in subject. (Paul uses this phrase in 1 Corinthians to introduce a new subject in 7.1, 7.25, 8.1, 12.1, 16.1 and elsewhere in his letters).
• The sign of the fig tree in v 28 closes an inclusio in relation to the Temple, matching the example of the withered fig tree as an enacted parable in chapter 11.
• ‘That day or hour’ in v 32 is introduced without an antecedent; such a ‘day’ has not been mentioned before (the distress in the earlier verses is referred to as ‘those days’ in the plural).
• The idea of a long time of waiting is in marked contrast to the previous language of an intensity of specific ‘signs’.

France also notes that the disciples’ initial question to Jesus, whilst focussed on when ‘all these things will be fulfilled’ in Mark, in Matthew is more explicitly made a double question: ‘When will this [the destruction of the Temple] happen, and what will be the sign of your coming and the end of the age?’ This is then given a double answer, in Matt 24.4–35 about ‘these things’ and then in 24.36f about that day.

It is also interesting to note that the focus in Mark is on the Temple events, but in Matthew there is a more extended interest in the signs of ‘the end’ following the Temple. This would make good sense if Mark was written in the 60s, possibly during the Jewish War, and Matthew was written post-70, so that the main interest in Jesus’ depiction of the fall of the Temple is in his words coming true, rather than as immediate advice.

Both these last two views leave the real problem for most readers of how to make sense of Mark 13.27: ‘He will send his angels [messengers?] and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens’. Some things to note:

• Jesus has already inserted language of the good news being preached to ‘all the nations’ prior to the destruction of the Temple in 13.10. This is, arguably, a key theological point behind the narrative of Acts, with Peter then Paul preaching to the known world prior to AD70. Indeed, it could be argued that knowing this saying of Jesus was part of Paul’s motivation in writing Romans to get support to fulfil this goal.
• It is clear elsewhere in the NT that the OT promise to ‘gather the elect’ from the nations has now been fulfilled in the preaching to the Gentiles, for example in 1 Peter and in the seven-fold phrase ‘every tribe, language, people and nation’ in Revelation.
• In the Matthew parallel, there is a ‘loud trumpet call’ (Matt 24.31) which we usually read in parallel with the ‘last trump’ of 1 Thess 4.16. But in fact the shofar was used to call people to worship at the start of the Sabbath, an invitation to enter the rest of the seventh day, both in imitation of God’s resting at the end of creation, and the invitation to enter the promised ‘rest’ of the coming kingdom (Hebrews 4).

So I now find option 3 the most persuasive, since on the one hand it takes seriously the form of Mark 13 as we have it, and its first-century context, but addresses the criticisms of option 2 as underplaying the role of Jesus’ second coming within both Mark and Matthew.

[Apologies for not posting this prior to Advent Sunday, but, hey, there is always next year!]

First, it is worth noting that the words ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ themselves do not occur in the parable. The NT talks about post-mortem life in [...]]]> The story of the rich man and Lazarus appears on first reading to depict a detailed ‘map’ of ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’, but is this the right way to read it?

First, it is worth noting that the words ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ themselves do not occur in the parable. The NT talks about post-mortem life in a range of ways, not all of them easy to reconcile with one another. Perhaps the most controlling one would be the idea of ‘sleep’ as used by Paul in, for example, 1 Cor 15. ‘Heaven’ in the NT mostly appears to refer to the realm of God’s presence, reign and reality, and the central NT hope is not that we will leave the earth to go to heaven, but that God’s realm will come down to the earth (see Rev 21). (See Tom Wright’s Grove booklet for the most accessible exposition of this.)

The term used in v 23 is the Greek Hades which was usually understood as the abode of (all) the dead, and does not have a straightforward relationship with the OT notion of sheol. Interestingly, Howard Marshall (in his NIGTC commentary) thinks that a popular Egyptian tale about life after death offers the best explanation for the shape of the story, and there is some support for this in the way the text was received in that region.

Secondly, like all parables this is a story told to make a point. Such stories have varying degrees of connection with ‘reality’. No doubt sowers went out to sow in the fields of Galilee, but it is not clear that Jesus has in mind a particular such person in Mark 4. Shepherds were concerned about their sheep, but the point of the story in Luke 15 is not that a real shepherd would leave the 99 in search of the one; to the casual reader this one looks rather inept. In fact, in some parables, it is the contrast with reality which is striking. A man who paid hired workers the same regardless of how many hours they had worked (Matt 20) would not only be unjust but foolish! There is a clear sense that the parables (as it were) create their own world, and it is the shape of this world, as much as the actions of the characters, which provide the impact of the story and help to make the point.

Thirdly, therefore, we need to focus on the point(s) that Jesus was making in this parable. There is a strong link between the language here and that of Luke’s version of the beatitudes with their theme of reversal of fortunes. Lazarus longs for what the poor will have (16.21 and 6.21) and the ‘comfort’ he receives in 16.25 is that which is denied the rich in 6.25. And miracles in themselves cannot melt hearts that are hardened to God’s word (16.31). This final verse clearly chimes with the post-Easter experience of Jesus’ followers, as the majority of their countrymen refuse to accept Jesus for who he (and they) claimed him to be. To use this as a map for the afterlife is to miss these key points.

This is part of a wider issue in reading Scripture: if we seek to clarify issues which don’t appear to have been the purpose of the writer, then we are in danger of making the text say things that it does not, in fact, say.

(For an alternative allegorical reading of this parable as a judgement on the nation of Israel [which I find unconvincing] go here.)

(A shorter version of this will be published in a forthcoming entry on Scripture Union’s Word Live Bible reading resource.)

Sometimes two historical records incidentally touch on the same point in a manner that would be very unlikely if one of them were copied from the other or if both [...]]]> Dr Tim McGrew of the Library of Historical Apologetics just posted a fascinating document in a private Facebook group of which I am a part:

Sometimes two historical records incidentally touch on the same point in a manner that would be very unlikely if one of them were copied from the other or if both were copied from a common source. For example, one account of an event may leave out a bit of information, leaving some natural question unanswered, while a different account indirectly supplies the missing detail and, in so doing, answers that question. When this happens, the best explanation is that both records are grounded in the actual historical event; that is why the two bits fit together so well.

Forgers do not want to leave loose ends like this that might raise awkward questions; they take care to tie everything together neatly. But these are just the sort of things we would expect to find in authentic records of the same real event told by different people who knew what they were talking about.

He then goes on to give some key examples from the gospels:

1. Why does Herod Antipas ask his servants about Jesus? (Matt. 14:1-2) Answer: One of the followers of Jesus was the wife of Herod’s steward. (Luke 8:3)

2. After the transfiguration, why do the disciples tell no one? (Luke 9:36) Answer: Because Jesus specifically told them to tell no one. (Mark 9:9)

3. In the lead up to the feeding of the 5,000, why does Jesus ask Philip (a minor figure in the Gospels by any standard) where they are going to find bread to feed all of these people? Answer: Because the setting was Bethsaida (Luke 9:10), which was Philip’s home town (John 1:44).

4. In John 18:32, Pilate asks Jesus whether he is a king. What prompted that question? (Nothing earlier in the chapter indicates that this was a charge leveled against Jesus.) Answer: Though John does not record it, the Jews did make that very charge against Jesus. (Luke 23:1-2)

5. In Luke 23:1-4, Pilate asks Jesus whether he is a king, and Jesus gives an answer that is certainly not a denial and that many scholars take for a terse, idiomatic acknowledgement. Then Pilate declares that he finds him innocent. How can this puzzling fact be explained? Answer: Luke is giving only a summary of the interview. In a fuller account, we discover that Jesus told Pilate that His kingdom was not of this world. (John 18:36)

6. In Mark 14:58 and Mark 15:29, the charge is reiterated that Jesus threatened to destroy the Temple. Yet nowhere in the Synoptics do we find his saying anything about this—not even something that could plausibly be misunderstood. What lay behind the charge? Answer: In John 2:18-19 we find Jesus saying, “Destroy this Temple, and in three days I will raise it up again.”

This last example fits quite well (in linking Mark and John) with Richard Bauckham’s argument, first put clearly in his chapter ‘John for readers of Mark’ in The Gospel for All Christians. But the others suggest links in other directions, and as Tim says, the most obvious explanation is that the different accounts are all working from a single historical reality.

Another connection that has interested me for a while is that between Luke and Revelation. Uniquely in Luke’s version of the ‘Sinai Apocalypse’, Luke 21, Jesus talks of people falling by ‘the edge of the sword’ (v 24), an allusion to Jeremiah 21.7 also found in Rev 13.10, and also uniquely describes Jerusalem as being ‘trampled by the Gentiles’ (same verse), a phrase found in Rev 11.2. I look forward to reading more on this in Paul Penley’s recent monograph on Synoptic traditions in the Apocalypse.

All this suggests that the NT documents are closely related to historical events, and closely related to one another in ways we have not always appreciated. And it also suggests that modern biblical scholarship has not attended to this data sufficiently. For where do these insights come from? None other than William Paley, the famous apologist, in his 1790 Horae Paulinae, material from which was picked up and expanded by John James Blunt in 1869. You can find a full bibliography at the Library of Historical Apologetics.

My final conclusion was a reflection on the process of engaging with these texts:

“On a personal note, engaging again with these texts has been a challenging and transforming experience for me. I [...]]]> My Grove booklet Women and Authority: the key biblical texts is now available (after a small printing hiccup!) from the Grove website.

My final conclusion was a reflection on the process of engaging with these texts:

“On a personal note, engaging again with these texts has been a challenging and transforming experience for me. I have come to this task with experience of a number of different theological traditions, including Roman Catholic and Free Church, and have been engaged in conversation across the views within the Church of England.

But as I have spent time considering these texts in detail over the last 18 months, I have been struck afresh by the radically egalitarian and counter-cultural nature of what Scripture says about gender, and the challenge to the church to be constantly reformed and reshaped by Scripture’s perspective, even if that means letting go of cherished traditions of interpretation.”

You can find some other extracts under the category ‘Women and authority’ on the right.

I would be interested to here comments from readers of the booklet and suggestions for revision, disagreements, or things you would like me to expand on.