Eschatological ethics
Commentary
Object:
There is a powerful scene in Herman Melville’s great epic Moby Dick, where peglegged Captain Ahab stands on the deck of the Pequod during a violent storm (chapter 119). His obsession with the White Whale has carried the craft and crew to exotic and frightening locales, and now it seems as if divine Providence might be unleashing furious anger against this ill-fated quest. But Ahab is a fighter, and with clenched fists amid the lightning bolts and against the raging thunder he yells a taunt at the Creator who chastens his cause: “I now know thee, thou clear spirit, and I now know that thy right worship is defiance.”
Yet even Captain Ahab, torn by his demons and captured as much by the Whale as he seeks to capture it, knows that there is a need greater than victory and a power more tenacious than brutal force. He falls to the deck in a tormented confession: “But war is pain, and hate is woe. Come in, thy lowest form of love, and I will kneel and kiss thee...” He almost pleads with God to stop the awful battering of antagonistic powers, and descend in kind humility so that the passions of love might be reborn and rekindled again.
This, of course, is a marvelous bridge between the bellicose prophecies of the Old Testament and the juxtaposed incarnation of Jesus that emerged out of them. God did indeed come down, like God had done in the times of Moses and the Pharaoh. But this time God chose the suckling child rather than the plague blasts as the means of arrival and encounter. We who marshal our forces for good or for evil are suddenly caught up short -- the One who could “rend the heavens” and “set twigs ablaze” and “cause water to boil” and “cause the nations to quake” and make “the mountains tremble” slipped in as a helpless child, and the world knelt to kiss him on a starry night in Bethlehem.
This is the language of eschatological expectation, the renewed language of confidence in God, the crisis of these times, and the anticipated next act of divine intervention in human affairs. But it all begins with the faithfulness of God upon which our own faith and faithfulness can be pinned.
Haggai 1:15b--2:9
From beginning to end, the stories told in Ezra and Nehemiah span nearly a century. They start with the decree of Persian king Cyrus in 538 BC to allow and encourage the Jewish exiles in Babylon back to their homeland. A short narrative (Ezra 1-6) is devoted to the return under Sheshbazzar, Zerubbabel, and Joshua, and the rebuilding of a small temple. This is the context for Haggai’s very short prophecy. Haggai and Zechariah appeared on the scene at exactly the same time (summer and fall of 520 BC); the former issued four brief messages from Yahweh on three separate days that year, while the latter continued to have visions for another two calendar cycles.
Haggai was a cheerleader. He returned from Babylon to Palestine with the first wave of freed exiles under the leadership of Zerubbabel in 536 BC. Although it took a while for the community to get its bearings, eventually there was a push to sift among the stones still left at the site of Solomon’s Temple and to rebuild a house for Yahweh there. In 520 BC, Haggai urged the workers on with divine encouragement. No obstacle could stand in the way of this central task, neither disobedient lifestyles (1:2-11), faint-hearted leadership (1:12-14), poverty (2:1-9), ritual defilement (2:10-19), or the rattling sabers of bellicose nations (2:20-23). Under Haggai’s promptings and Zerubbabel’s governing, the temple was rebuilt in the next four years. By 516 BC it stood again, only a mean miniature compared to the glorious structure created generations before by Solomon in his seven-year building project. Nevertheless, with Haggai’s oratorical help, Yahweh’s house was reborn.
2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17
It was probably late in 49 AD when Paul and Silas left Syrian Antioch, their home base. They traveled overland to the communities in central Asia Minor where Paul and Barnabas had established Christian congregations more than a year earlier. At Lystra they were joined by Timothy (Acts 16:1-2), a promising young man whose mother was Christian but whose father was not. Together this growing company of itinerant preachers had in mind an itinerary taking them farther north in Asia Minor (Acts 16:6-8). There were other new areas where Jewish settlements in Hellenic cities might give them an open door for talking about Jesus.
While pondering their options at Troas, Paul may have had some medical problems. The text of Acts 16 shows a shift at that point from third-person references to first-person recollections (note verses 6-10). It seems obvious that doctor Luke, the man who would author this book, joined the band at Troas. It might well be that he came to Paul as a healer, and stayed with Paul as a new believer and fellow evangelist. Also in this city a divine directive illumined Paul in a vision (Acts 16:9-10), with the result that the company headed next across the Aegean Sea to Macedonia. Philippi was their first major stop, a fairly new Roman colony established by military personnel who received parcels of land as their pensions. As of yet there was no sizeable Jewish population in the city, since Paul and Silas found a small group of Jews worshiping at the river’s edge on a sabbath (Acts 16:13). Once there were ten Jewish males in any town a synagogue had to be established, so the river gathering meant that Jews had not come to Philippi in any significant numbers. As was his custom, Paul spoke to the small group about Jesus, and a new Christian congregation was formed in the home of Lydia (Acts 16:14-15).
Paul and Silas stayed in Philippi for some time, but eventually encountered trouble that landed them in jail. A young fortune-teller began to follow them, shouting out to the crowds about them (Acts 16:16-17), perhaps in a mean-spirited or nasty manner. Paul became grieved by her evident demon possession, and exorcised her (Acts 16:18). The girl’s masters were very upset and threw Paul and Silas into prison (Acts 16:19-24). A midnight earthquake rocked the place and led to the jailer’s conversion (Acts 16:25-34). In the morning the Roman citizenship of Paul and Silas was discovered, and the magistrates were beside themselves in efforts to undo the unlawful treatment these two had received (Acts 16:35-40).
It was on to Thessalonica next for Paul and Silas and their team (Acts 17:1-9). For three weeks Paul preached about Jesus in the Jewish synagogue. When Gentiles swelled the crowd of Christ-believers, however, some Jews became jealous and formed a mob to disrupt civic life. The uproar caused city officials to arrest leading members of the new Christian congregation, and the group sent Paul and Silas out of town that evening under the cover of darkness. With brief stops in Berea (Acts 17:10-15) and Athens (Acts 17:16-34), Paul eventually arrived in Corinth, where he met Aquila and Priscilla for the first time (Acts 18:1-3). This couple would become fast friends with Paul, keeping in touch for the rest of his life.
Although Paul would spend the next year and a half in Corinth, at the outset his heart remained back in Thessalonica. Already when he was traveling through Athens, Paul worried about how the fledgling Thessalonian congregation was faring (1 Thessalonians 2:17-20), and he sent Timothy back to find out more and make a report (1 Thessalonians 3:1-5). Paul had already continued on to Corinth by the time Timothy caught up with him, and was elated at the good word his younger associate brought (1 Thessalonians 3:6-10). With emotions running high, Paul dashed off a letter of appreciation and encouragement to his new friends (1 Thessalonians).
Most of this short letter is given to expressions of praise for the great testimony already being noised about from those who observed the grace and spiritual energy of this newborn congregation. Paul rehearsed briefly (1 Thessalonians 1-3) the recent history that had deeply connected them, and told of his aching heart now that they were so quickly “torn away” from one another (1 Thessalonians 2:17). Only after these passionate confessions does Paul spill some ink on a few notes of instruction (1 Thessalonians 4-5). While most of what Paul has to say is typical exhortations toward quiet and godly living, a surprising topic suddenly jumps out as prelude to a new and unique trajectory in Christian doctrinal development.
The central message of Paul’s missionary preaching focused on the resurrection of Jesus. This was, for Paul, the astounding confirmation of Jesus’ divine character. It was the undeniable proof that Jesus was the messiah, and that his words and teachings had ushered in the new age of God’s final revelation and redemptive activity.
Paul understood that Jesus was the great “Day of the Lord” event foretold by the Old Testament prophets (1 Thessalonians 5:1), and that out of gracious forbearance Jesus had split this cataclysmic occurrence in two, so that the beginning of eternal blessings could be experienced before the final judgment fell (1 Thessalonians 5:2-11). This meant that Jesus had gone back to heaven only briefly, and would be returning to earth very soon -- probably next week, but maybe next month. It was the generous grace of God which had provided this brief window of opportunity, allowing Jesus’ disciples a chance quickly to tell others the good news, so that those who believed would also reap the benefits of the looming messianic age. Neither Paul nor God wanted anyone to be destroyed in the judgments that were still ahead.
The response of the Thessalonian church to this insistent focus on Jesus’ imminent return apparently echoed back to Paul through Timothy’s report in a way he had not expected. Rather than energizing the new believers in Thessalonica, with anticipations of divine vindication after the painful struggles they had recently endured, some had instead become deeply discouraged. In the few intervening weeks or months since they had come to faith in Jesus under Paul’s passionate preaching, several members of the congregation had died. The grief of those who survived was heightened, because they supposed that their lost loved ones had come so close to sharing in the powers and perfections of the new age, only to succumb to death virtually on its threshold. They assumed that the dead were excluded forever from the messianic kingdom.
Paul corrects this mistaken notion with a brief eschatological teaching. Jesus will return soon, to be sure, and those of us who are alive when that happens will enjoy renewed direct interaction with him. But those who have already died will not be left behind. Their bodies will be raised and restored, just as happened with Jesus himself on resurrection morning. Assurance of this comes from “the Lord’s own word,” according to Paul. Although none of the gospels records this exact teaching from Jesus, evidently it had become part of the oral tradition already being passed along from one believer to another.
Paul then went on to reaffirm the central imminent-return-of-Jesus proclamation that had precipitated these reflections in the first place (1 Thessalonians 5:1-11). Jesus will come back very soon, most likely in the foreseeable future. Paul fully expected that he himself, and most of his readers there in Thessalonica, would experience this event firsthand, and probably nearer on the calendar rather than more distant.
The letter closes with a quick litany of moral and ethical exhortations, urging faithful living regardless of circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:12-28). It was probably sent in early 50 AD, just as Paul was getting started with his work in Corinth.
A month or two later Paul received a follow-up report on the Thessalonian congregation. It may have been written as a result of another visit by Timothy, but we do not know for sure. What is certain is that Paul’s letter had increased the climate of expectation for Jesus’ return very dramatically, to the point where a significant number of the Thessalonian Christians had either stopped working their careers, believing that these were no longer necessary because Jesus was coming so soon (2 Thessalonians 3:6-12), or come to the conclusion that the messianic age had already arrived and they were free to carry on with no normal social restraints or obligations (2 Thessalonians 2:1-3). Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians addresses both issues. After a rousing note of appreciation for their growing faith (2 Thessalonians 1), Paul tempers his imminent-return-of-Christ teachings by injecting a likely waiting period during which a “man of lawlessness” will appear (2 Thessalonians 2:3-4). Who this person will be or when it will happen remains unclear. For a moment, Paul’s writing verges on apocalyptic speculations (2 Thessalonians 2:5-12), but then it settles quickly back into exhortations of moral behaviors consistent with the “sanctifying work of the Spirit” (2 Thessalonians 2:13-17).
In his final instructions (2 Thessalonians 3), Paul urges the Thessalonian Christians to live lifestyles of faithful service toward others, not getting caught up in the disease of idleness which seems to have sprung among some from overzealous expectations of Jesus’ imminent return. A closing line, apparently in Paul’s own handwriting, indicates that once again he has used an amanuensis for creating this document (2 Thessalonians 3:17).
Luke 20:27-38
This is one of Jesus’ most cryptic teachings. Are we to understand that the relationships we establish here have no connections to our future lives? Will our eternal selves be more angel-like than human?
We will probably never be able to build a clear eschatology based solely on these verses. And maybe we should not. Yet Luke gives us a context that helps us gain some deep significance from Jesus’ brief dialogue.
For one thing, whatever Jesus is saying about our future life in this passage it is important to remember that the tone is set by the Sadducees, who did not believe in an afterlife. There’s a trick question, not designed to clarify any insights about an eternal human existence but to show instead that Jesus isn’t worthy of other people’s attention. So Jesus’ response is not meant to be a thoughtful description about who we become on the other side, but rather simply a rejoinder that reveals the inadequacies of the Sadducees’ perspectives. They try to dismiss the future life. But in so doing they pretend that God doesn’t matter and that God is not interested in us, either for time or eternity. Jesus’ response to them publicly displays the smallness of their religion because it is only based upon their current experiences and a belittling of God.
Second, Luke collects this brief episode into a longer group of Jesus’ teachings, which begin with various groups challenging the authority of Jesus (Luke 20) and end with Jesus’ eschatological teachings about the transition from this existence into eternity (Luke 21). This dialogue with the Sadducees culminates the former and anticipates the latter. So its purpose in Luke’s gospel is not to spell out a broader eschatology (that will take place in the next chapter), but rather to show that those who belittle faith’s power in the present don’t really understand the future.
While Jesus will move on to clearer eschatological teaching in the next chapter, this passage is a thoughtful rebuke to those who want to undermine belief in God’s good will for us by throwing out syllogistic skepticisms. They may show how smart they are. Or they may not. In fact, they may find themselves laughing at the foolishness of others while toasting their own brilliance in a place where no one really cares.
Application
Both the Old and New Testaments contain a lot of moral instruction and guidelines for ethical behavior. While these address many dimensions of life and behavior, they are invariably established on four primary foundational principles:
* Creational Norms: How did God intend for things to be?
-- Note the portraits of life on earth in Genesis 1-2.
* Restraint of Sin: What evil has infested the world that needs to be restrained and counteracted?
-- Note the negative expression of the Ten Commandments and the laws for Israel.
* The Mind of Christ/God: What is the heart and passion and will of God?
-- Note the unique revelation of God in Jesus Christ.
* Eschatological Hope: What goals or plans or expectations is God drawing us toward in the consummation of all things?
-- Note Paul’s ethical urgings here in 1 & 2 Thessalonians, and throughout the apostolic writings, with a message that Christian behavior should be tempered by the confidence that Jesus will return soon.
All of today’s readings are, for the church, together kind of a solid hook in the vast, uncharted chaotic voids of space, allowing us to tether and take our bearings from at least one point which is neither shifting with the currents nor dependent on our own powers to establish it. They position us in the place where Archimedes can set the fulcrum of his lever and move earth and the planets in a meaningful way because there is a critical unmoved position from which everything else is to be measured. They remind us that each date on our calendars, both for time and eternity, was penned in by God, not us, indicating a promised encounter that we might often doubt, but which cannot be erased from the pages of time.
We once promised one of our daughters that we would be making a visit to see her, over 5,000 miles away from where we live, at a certain date in the future. She counted on our arrival, and made plans to greet us, to house us, to feed us, and to show us around her world. How could she be so certain that we would be there when we promised? Because she knows our character. She has learned to trust us and trust in us. True, the “fickle finger of fate” might raise all manner of obstacles, and perhaps even void our plans. But not if we could help it. Our word is as good as gold with our daughter. She trusts us. She was confident we would be there. She arranged her life by that promise.
How much more should we expect God to keep promises? In the spare evidence of these days, when we are roiled by circumstances and challenged by materialistic denials of any First Cause, religious trust seems foolish. Except... except that God made a promise. And we have seen God’s character in Creation and in the divine affairs with Israel and in the testimony of Jesus. So we wait...
Alternative Application
2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17. Paul’s letters to the Thessalonian congregation occurred early in his ministry, with both epistles most likely penned in 50 AD. These writings are very short and do not spell out a fully explored eschatology. But in their brief exhortations they contain some of Paul’s most direct and explicit eschatological teachings.
First, it is clear that the emphasis in Paul’s preaching was on the resurrection of Jesus. This was the confirmation that Jesus was the messiah foretold by the prophets. It was also the most profound sign that the new messianic age had arrived. Since the messianic age was part of the promised “Day of the Lord,” a time of divine judgment was sure to arrive soon.
Second, Jesus’ first coming brought the beginnings of the blessings of the messianic age, but it delayed the judgments of God for a time, so that the followers of Jesus could spread the news of salvation far and wide. Splitting the “Day of the Lord” in two was an act of kindness on God’s part, providing more opportunity for people to respond in faith. It also placed upon the church a missionary urgency. The reason Jesus left his followers behind during the gap between his ascension and return was to send them as ambassadors of hope to the nations.
Third, the return of Jesus was imminent, and likely to take place within weeks or months. This was the expectation that made any trials, persecutions, or difficulties endurable. Knowing that one can outlast an opponent, no matter how nasty or strong, gives great resilience to hang on and survive with dignity.
Fourth, all who trusted in Jesus when he returned would share in his glory and power. But so too would those who had believed in Jesus and then died before Jesus had made his return. This teaching profoundly changed the burial habits of Christians, and altered expectations at dying. Rather than closing doors to human existence, death instead opened them to eternal life. Many early Christians welcomed death by martyrdom, knowing that through this act they were immediately secure in resurrection hope.
Fifth, the yawning gap of time that had been widening since Jesus’ ascension required meaningful explanations for the delay of his return. Answers came in three major varieties. Some saw this lengthening “in-between” age as evidence of divine grace: God was not going to bring final judgment until more people could respond to the gospel message in faith. Others declared that the delay was a tool for testing the faithfulness of those who said they believed in Jesus. A final group called to mind Jesus’ words about signs that would appear before the final days, and tried more closely to define the number of specific events that must still take place prior to his return.
Intertwined together, these three dimensions of eschatological expectations became hard-wired into the church, and infused it, for Paul, with a missionary urgency and an uncompromising ethic. The church must speak to everyone with loving passion about Jesus. At the same time, Christians were responsible to live in a profound moral simplicity that assessed every behavior by the question “What should we be doing when Jesus returns?”
Yet even Captain Ahab, torn by his demons and captured as much by the Whale as he seeks to capture it, knows that there is a need greater than victory and a power more tenacious than brutal force. He falls to the deck in a tormented confession: “But war is pain, and hate is woe. Come in, thy lowest form of love, and I will kneel and kiss thee...” He almost pleads with God to stop the awful battering of antagonistic powers, and descend in kind humility so that the passions of love might be reborn and rekindled again.
This, of course, is a marvelous bridge between the bellicose prophecies of the Old Testament and the juxtaposed incarnation of Jesus that emerged out of them. God did indeed come down, like God had done in the times of Moses and the Pharaoh. But this time God chose the suckling child rather than the plague blasts as the means of arrival and encounter. We who marshal our forces for good or for evil are suddenly caught up short -- the One who could “rend the heavens” and “set twigs ablaze” and “cause water to boil” and “cause the nations to quake” and make “the mountains tremble” slipped in as a helpless child, and the world knelt to kiss him on a starry night in Bethlehem.
This is the language of eschatological expectation, the renewed language of confidence in God, the crisis of these times, and the anticipated next act of divine intervention in human affairs. But it all begins with the faithfulness of God upon which our own faith and faithfulness can be pinned.
Haggai 1:15b--2:9
From beginning to end, the stories told in Ezra and Nehemiah span nearly a century. They start with the decree of Persian king Cyrus in 538 BC to allow and encourage the Jewish exiles in Babylon back to their homeland. A short narrative (Ezra 1-6) is devoted to the return under Sheshbazzar, Zerubbabel, and Joshua, and the rebuilding of a small temple. This is the context for Haggai’s very short prophecy. Haggai and Zechariah appeared on the scene at exactly the same time (summer and fall of 520 BC); the former issued four brief messages from Yahweh on three separate days that year, while the latter continued to have visions for another two calendar cycles.
Haggai was a cheerleader. He returned from Babylon to Palestine with the first wave of freed exiles under the leadership of Zerubbabel in 536 BC. Although it took a while for the community to get its bearings, eventually there was a push to sift among the stones still left at the site of Solomon’s Temple and to rebuild a house for Yahweh there. In 520 BC, Haggai urged the workers on with divine encouragement. No obstacle could stand in the way of this central task, neither disobedient lifestyles (1:2-11), faint-hearted leadership (1:12-14), poverty (2:1-9), ritual defilement (2:10-19), or the rattling sabers of bellicose nations (2:20-23). Under Haggai’s promptings and Zerubbabel’s governing, the temple was rebuilt in the next four years. By 516 BC it stood again, only a mean miniature compared to the glorious structure created generations before by Solomon in his seven-year building project. Nevertheless, with Haggai’s oratorical help, Yahweh’s house was reborn.
2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17
It was probably late in 49 AD when Paul and Silas left Syrian Antioch, their home base. They traveled overland to the communities in central Asia Minor where Paul and Barnabas had established Christian congregations more than a year earlier. At Lystra they were joined by Timothy (Acts 16:1-2), a promising young man whose mother was Christian but whose father was not. Together this growing company of itinerant preachers had in mind an itinerary taking them farther north in Asia Minor (Acts 16:6-8). There were other new areas where Jewish settlements in Hellenic cities might give them an open door for talking about Jesus.
While pondering their options at Troas, Paul may have had some medical problems. The text of Acts 16 shows a shift at that point from third-person references to first-person recollections (note verses 6-10). It seems obvious that doctor Luke, the man who would author this book, joined the band at Troas. It might well be that he came to Paul as a healer, and stayed with Paul as a new believer and fellow evangelist. Also in this city a divine directive illumined Paul in a vision (Acts 16:9-10), with the result that the company headed next across the Aegean Sea to Macedonia. Philippi was their first major stop, a fairly new Roman colony established by military personnel who received parcels of land as their pensions. As of yet there was no sizeable Jewish population in the city, since Paul and Silas found a small group of Jews worshiping at the river’s edge on a sabbath (Acts 16:13). Once there were ten Jewish males in any town a synagogue had to be established, so the river gathering meant that Jews had not come to Philippi in any significant numbers. As was his custom, Paul spoke to the small group about Jesus, and a new Christian congregation was formed in the home of Lydia (Acts 16:14-15).
Paul and Silas stayed in Philippi for some time, but eventually encountered trouble that landed them in jail. A young fortune-teller began to follow them, shouting out to the crowds about them (Acts 16:16-17), perhaps in a mean-spirited or nasty manner. Paul became grieved by her evident demon possession, and exorcised her (Acts 16:18). The girl’s masters were very upset and threw Paul and Silas into prison (Acts 16:19-24). A midnight earthquake rocked the place and led to the jailer’s conversion (Acts 16:25-34). In the morning the Roman citizenship of Paul and Silas was discovered, and the magistrates were beside themselves in efforts to undo the unlawful treatment these two had received (Acts 16:35-40).
It was on to Thessalonica next for Paul and Silas and their team (Acts 17:1-9). For three weeks Paul preached about Jesus in the Jewish synagogue. When Gentiles swelled the crowd of Christ-believers, however, some Jews became jealous and formed a mob to disrupt civic life. The uproar caused city officials to arrest leading members of the new Christian congregation, and the group sent Paul and Silas out of town that evening under the cover of darkness. With brief stops in Berea (Acts 17:10-15) and Athens (Acts 17:16-34), Paul eventually arrived in Corinth, where he met Aquila and Priscilla for the first time (Acts 18:1-3). This couple would become fast friends with Paul, keeping in touch for the rest of his life.
Although Paul would spend the next year and a half in Corinth, at the outset his heart remained back in Thessalonica. Already when he was traveling through Athens, Paul worried about how the fledgling Thessalonian congregation was faring (1 Thessalonians 2:17-20), and he sent Timothy back to find out more and make a report (1 Thessalonians 3:1-5). Paul had already continued on to Corinth by the time Timothy caught up with him, and was elated at the good word his younger associate brought (1 Thessalonians 3:6-10). With emotions running high, Paul dashed off a letter of appreciation and encouragement to his new friends (1 Thessalonians).
Most of this short letter is given to expressions of praise for the great testimony already being noised about from those who observed the grace and spiritual energy of this newborn congregation. Paul rehearsed briefly (1 Thessalonians 1-3) the recent history that had deeply connected them, and told of his aching heart now that they were so quickly “torn away” from one another (1 Thessalonians 2:17). Only after these passionate confessions does Paul spill some ink on a few notes of instruction (1 Thessalonians 4-5). While most of what Paul has to say is typical exhortations toward quiet and godly living, a surprising topic suddenly jumps out as prelude to a new and unique trajectory in Christian doctrinal development.
The central message of Paul’s missionary preaching focused on the resurrection of Jesus. This was, for Paul, the astounding confirmation of Jesus’ divine character. It was the undeniable proof that Jesus was the messiah, and that his words and teachings had ushered in the new age of God’s final revelation and redemptive activity.
Paul understood that Jesus was the great “Day of the Lord” event foretold by the Old Testament prophets (1 Thessalonians 5:1), and that out of gracious forbearance Jesus had split this cataclysmic occurrence in two, so that the beginning of eternal blessings could be experienced before the final judgment fell (1 Thessalonians 5:2-11). This meant that Jesus had gone back to heaven only briefly, and would be returning to earth very soon -- probably next week, but maybe next month. It was the generous grace of God which had provided this brief window of opportunity, allowing Jesus’ disciples a chance quickly to tell others the good news, so that those who believed would also reap the benefits of the looming messianic age. Neither Paul nor God wanted anyone to be destroyed in the judgments that were still ahead.
The response of the Thessalonian church to this insistent focus on Jesus’ imminent return apparently echoed back to Paul through Timothy’s report in a way he had not expected. Rather than energizing the new believers in Thessalonica, with anticipations of divine vindication after the painful struggles they had recently endured, some had instead become deeply discouraged. In the few intervening weeks or months since they had come to faith in Jesus under Paul’s passionate preaching, several members of the congregation had died. The grief of those who survived was heightened, because they supposed that their lost loved ones had come so close to sharing in the powers and perfections of the new age, only to succumb to death virtually on its threshold. They assumed that the dead were excluded forever from the messianic kingdom.
Paul corrects this mistaken notion with a brief eschatological teaching. Jesus will return soon, to be sure, and those of us who are alive when that happens will enjoy renewed direct interaction with him. But those who have already died will not be left behind. Their bodies will be raised and restored, just as happened with Jesus himself on resurrection morning. Assurance of this comes from “the Lord’s own word,” according to Paul. Although none of the gospels records this exact teaching from Jesus, evidently it had become part of the oral tradition already being passed along from one believer to another.
Paul then went on to reaffirm the central imminent-return-of-Jesus proclamation that had precipitated these reflections in the first place (1 Thessalonians 5:1-11). Jesus will come back very soon, most likely in the foreseeable future. Paul fully expected that he himself, and most of his readers there in Thessalonica, would experience this event firsthand, and probably nearer on the calendar rather than more distant.
The letter closes with a quick litany of moral and ethical exhortations, urging faithful living regardless of circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:12-28). It was probably sent in early 50 AD, just as Paul was getting started with his work in Corinth.
A month or two later Paul received a follow-up report on the Thessalonian congregation. It may have been written as a result of another visit by Timothy, but we do not know for sure. What is certain is that Paul’s letter had increased the climate of expectation for Jesus’ return very dramatically, to the point where a significant number of the Thessalonian Christians had either stopped working their careers, believing that these were no longer necessary because Jesus was coming so soon (2 Thessalonians 3:6-12), or come to the conclusion that the messianic age had already arrived and they were free to carry on with no normal social restraints or obligations (2 Thessalonians 2:1-3). Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians addresses both issues. After a rousing note of appreciation for their growing faith (2 Thessalonians 1), Paul tempers his imminent-return-of-Christ teachings by injecting a likely waiting period during which a “man of lawlessness” will appear (2 Thessalonians 2:3-4). Who this person will be or when it will happen remains unclear. For a moment, Paul’s writing verges on apocalyptic speculations (2 Thessalonians 2:5-12), but then it settles quickly back into exhortations of moral behaviors consistent with the “sanctifying work of the Spirit” (2 Thessalonians 2:13-17).
In his final instructions (2 Thessalonians 3), Paul urges the Thessalonian Christians to live lifestyles of faithful service toward others, not getting caught up in the disease of idleness which seems to have sprung among some from overzealous expectations of Jesus’ imminent return. A closing line, apparently in Paul’s own handwriting, indicates that once again he has used an amanuensis for creating this document (2 Thessalonians 3:17).
Luke 20:27-38
This is one of Jesus’ most cryptic teachings. Are we to understand that the relationships we establish here have no connections to our future lives? Will our eternal selves be more angel-like than human?
We will probably never be able to build a clear eschatology based solely on these verses. And maybe we should not. Yet Luke gives us a context that helps us gain some deep significance from Jesus’ brief dialogue.
For one thing, whatever Jesus is saying about our future life in this passage it is important to remember that the tone is set by the Sadducees, who did not believe in an afterlife. There’s a trick question, not designed to clarify any insights about an eternal human existence but to show instead that Jesus isn’t worthy of other people’s attention. So Jesus’ response is not meant to be a thoughtful description about who we become on the other side, but rather simply a rejoinder that reveals the inadequacies of the Sadducees’ perspectives. They try to dismiss the future life. But in so doing they pretend that God doesn’t matter and that God is not interested in us, either for time or eternity. Jesus’ response to them publicly displays the smallness of their religion because it is only based upon their current experiences and a belittling of God.
Second, Luke collects this brief episode into a longer group of Jesus’ teachings, which begin with various groups challenging the authority of Jesus (Luke 20) and end with Jesus’ eschatological teachings about the transition from this existence into eternity (Luke 21). This dialogue with the Sadducees culminates the former and anticipates the latter. So its purpose in Luke’s gospel is not to spell out a broader eschatology (that will take place in the next chapter), but rather to show that those who belittle faith’s power in the present don’t really understand the future.
While Jesus will move on to clearer eschatological teaching in the next chapter, this passage is a thoughtful rebuke to those who want to undermine belief in God’s good will for us by throwing out syllogistic skepticisms. They may show how smart they are. Or they may not. In fact, they may find themselves laughing at the foolishness of others while toasting their own brilliance in a place where no one really cares.
Application
Both the Old and New Testaments contain a lot of moral instruction and guidelines for ethical behavior. While these address many dimensions of life and behavior, they are invariably established on four primary foundational principles:
* Creational Norms: How did God intend for things to be?
-- Note the portraits of life on earth in Genesis 1-2.
* Restraint of Sin: What evil has infested the world that needs to be restrained and counteracted?
-- Note the negative expression of the Ten Commandments and the laws for Israel.
* The Mind of Christ/God: What is the heart and passion and will of God?
-- Note the unique revelation of God in Jesus Christ.
* Eschatological Hope: What goals or plans or expectations is God drawing us toward in the consummation of all things?
-- Note Paul’s ethical urgings here in 1 & 2 Thessalonians, and throughout the apostolic writings, with a message that Christian behavior should be tempered by the confidence that Jesus will return soon.
All of today’s readings are, for the church, together kind of a solid hook in the vast, uncharted chaotic voids of space, allowing us to tether and take our bearings from at least one point which is neither shifting with the currents nor dependent on our own powers to establish it. They position us in the place where Archimedes can set the fulcrum of his lever and move earth and the planets in a meaningful way because there is a critical unmoved position from which everything else is to be measured. They remind us that each date on our calendars, both for time and eternity, was penned in by God, not us, indicating a promised encounter that we might often doubt, but which cannot be erased from the pages of time.
We once promised one of our daughters that we would be making a visit to see her, over 5,000 miles away from where we live, at a certain date in the future. She counted on our arrival, and made plans to greet us, to house us, to feed us, and to show us around her world. How could she be so certain that we would be there when we promised? Because she knows our character. She has learned to trust us and trust in us. True, the “fickle finger of fate” might raise all manner of obstacles, and perhaps even void our plans. But not if we could help it. Our word is as good as gold with our daughter. She trusts us. She was confident we would be there. She arranged her life by that promise.
How much more should we expect God to keep promises? In the spare evidence of these days, when we are roiled by circumstances and challenged by materialistic denials of any First Cause, religious trust seems foolish. Except... except that God made a promise. And we have seen God’s character in Creation and in the divine affairs with Israel and in the testimony of Jesus. So we wait...
Alternative Application
2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17. Paul’s letters to the Thessalonian congregation occurred early in his ministry, with both epistles most likely penned in 50 AD. These writings are very short and do not spell out a fully explored eschatology. But in their brief exhortations they contain some of Paul’s most direct and explicit eschatological teachings.
First, it is clear that the emphasis in Paul’s preaching was on the resurrection of Jesus. This was the confirmation that Jesus was the messiah foretold by the prophets. It was also the most profound sign that the new messianic age had arrived. Since the messianic age was part of the promised “Day of the Lord,” a time of divine judgment was sure to arrive soon.
Second, Jesus’ first coming brought the beginnings of the blessings of the messianic age, but it delayed the judgments of God for a time, so that the followers of Jesus could spread the news of salvation far and wide. Splitting the “Day of the Lord” in two was an act of kindness on God’s part, providing more opportunity for people to respond in faith. It also placed upon the church a missionary urgency. The reason Jesus left his followers behind during the gap between his ascension and return was to send them as ambassadors of hope to the nations.
Third, the return of Jesus was imminent, and likely to take place within weeks or months. This was the expectation that made any trials, persecutions, or difficulties endurable. Knowing that one can outlast an opponent, no matter how nasty or strong, gives great resilience to hang on and survive with dignity.
Fourth, all who trusted in Jesus when he returned would share in his glory and power. But so too would those who had believed in Jesus and then died before Jesus had made his return. This teaching profoundly changed the burial habits of Christians, and altered expectations at dying. Rather than closing doors to human existence, death instead opened them to eternal life. Many early Christians welcomed death by martyrdom, knowing that through this act they were immediately secure in resurrection hope.
Fifth, the yawning gap of time that had been widening since Jesus’ ascension required meaningful explanations for the delay of his return. Answers came in three major varieties. Some saw this lengthening “in-between” age as evidence of divine grace: God was not going to bring final judgment until more people could respond to the gospel message in faith. Others declared that the delay was a tool for testing the faithfulness of those who said they believed in Jesus. A final group called to mind Jesus’ words about signs that would appear before the final days, and tried more closely to define the number of specific events that must still take place prior to his return.
Intertwined together, these three dimensions of eschatological expectations became hard-wired into the church, and infused it, for Paul, with a missionary urgency and an uncompromising ethic. The church must speak to everyone with loving passion about Jesus. At the same time, Christians were responsible to live in a profound moral simplicity that assessed every behavior by the question “What should we be doing when Jesus returns?”
