In connection with the course, Seminary Now posted this blog interview in which they asked me various questions about my journey to eschatology, my understanding of creation to the end times, and the role of the pastor as it relates to teaching churches about eschatology.
How did you become interested in eschatology?
I was a 20-year old undergraduate theology student trying to understand God’s purposes for the world beyond the church. Since I wasn’t planning on going into pastoral or church “ministry,” I wondered about how—and to what extent—God cared about life in the ordinary, so-called “secular” world. I guess I was wondering if I could serve God if I wasn’t doing something intrinsically “spiritual” like pastoring.
This led me to study the theme of the kingdom of God throughout the Bible, both where it was explicit—as in the teaching of Jesus—and where it was implicit. I traced the kingdom theme from God as ruler of creation to the consummation of God’s purposes in the new heaven and new earth, when the kingdom fully comes and God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven.
So, I found biblical eschatology to be very helpful for understanding where history is going and how much God values (and wants to save) this created world. Ultimately, I came to understand that earth is meant to be the sacred realm in which we serve God and that all sorts of ordinary human activities are equally “spiritual.”
What does preaching on eschatology look like from the pulpit? How and why is introducing the church to the concept important for redeeming each day and God’s work in it?
Preaching on eschatology rarely has to be explicit. Mostly it is about communicating a strong sense that God cares about earthly life and wants to redeem us in the fullness of our humanity.
The point is that eschatology (like every other theme and topic in the Bible) isn’t there for our intellectual curiosity. Rather, the entire Bible is meant to empower us to live more faithfully as disciples of Jesus.
But this requires that we frame our lives by the wonderful biblical story of God’s desire to redeem the world he made, centered in the death and resurrection of Jesus. Given that our lives are typically framed by the idolatrous narratives of our culture (which we are socialized into and come to believe at an implicit level), good preaching is meant to ground us in the alternative narrative the Bible tells, while challenging us to let go of those attitudes and practices that are not congruent with this narrative.
So the primary duty of preaching is to reshape the imaginations of God’s people to take this story and its goal (the new creation) so seriously that it transforms how we live in the present. As I write in my book, “Ethics is lived eschatology.”
Many of us find it hard to understand the connection between heaven and earth. What is that connection and why does it matter?
The place to start is Genesis 1:1, which says that in the beginning God created heaven and earth. Heaven and earth in the Bible are the two primary aspects of the created order.
According to Psalm 115:16, “The heavens are the Lord’s heavens, / but the earth he has given to human beings.” Earth is our realm; heaven is not. Heaven is the realm beyond the earth; it is thus “transcendent,” which simply means “beyond.” The Bible claims that heaven is where God has set up his throne (Pss. 2:4; 11:4; 103:19; Isa. 66:1; Amos 9:6; Matt. 5:34; 23:22). Yet heaven is also the realm of the sun, moon, and stars—along with the angelic host (Ps. 148:2–3).
This doesn’t mean that God literally lives “up there” among the stars or out beyond Saturn or Alpha Centauri. Instead, God’s throne in heaven, from which he rules the earth, is a way of speaking of God’s transcendence. Yet, paradoxically, because heaven is part of the created order (in the Bible), God’s throne in heaven also speaks of God’s immanence. Having created the world, God took up residence in part of it. But the earth currently lacks the fullness of God’s presence. The Bible anticipates that God will bring history to its goal at Christ’s return, when God will make all things new.
At that time, God’s throne will shift from heaven to earth (Rev. 21:3, 5; 22:1, 3) and God’s glory will so fill the earth that the earth will finally be conformed to heaven.
How has your own view of God and creation been changed as a result of your study of eschatology?
My study of eschatology was the beginning of a trajectory that led to me becoming a biblical scholar and teacher of the Bible. Biblical eschatology was the starting point for me coming to a more holistic vision of God’s purposes for this world. This vision has inspired and energized me to live towards the vision of God’s kingdom in my personal life and to communicate this amazing vision of God’s unfailing love for his creation (both human and nonhuman) to others.
My study of eschatology led to a more profound understanding of—and love for—God. And it generated in me a passionate desire to share what I have learned with Christ’s church.
So many of us have been confused about eschatology, and I don’t mean just about the crazy predictions of the future that Christians have tried to get from the Bible. More importantly, we’re confused about God’s purposes for earthly life. But it’s really pretty simple. It’s summed up in Micah 6:8: “What does the Lord require of you? / To act justly and to love mercy / and to walk humbly with your God.” Biblical eschatology is focused on helping us to live according to God’s righteous intentions for human, earthly life.
I have come to realize there are multiple connections between these blog posts. I was aware of some of them at the time, but other connections seem to have been subconscious.
Deconstruction and Reconstruction of Classical Theism and Abraham’s Silence
I already understood that I was “deconstructing” classical theism and the traditional interpretation of Abraham’s silence.
My “reconstruction” of the former was to suggest that a relational view of God was more faithful to Scripture than a view of God as unmoved by anything outside of the divine nature.
My “reconstruction” of the latter was to argue that Abraham should have protested God’s command for him to sacrifice his son and prayed for Isaac, rather than silently attempting to obey the command (that was the basic argument of my book Abraham’s Silence).
God’s Relationality as the Basis for Critiquing Abraham’s Silent Obedience
In Abraham’s Silence, among the reasons I gave for why Abraham should have pleaded with God for his son was the prominent biblical pattern of vigorous prayer (found in the lament psalms, Moses’s intercession for Israel, Job’s protests, Abraham’s bold intercession for Sodom, and Jesus’s teaching on prayer in the New Testament).
This understanding of prayer is grounded firmly in a relational view of God—a God who is impacted by the human dialogue partner, in distinction to the the immovable God of classical theism.
I guess that this view of God is so ingrained in me that I didn’t have to consciously think about it.
(Neo)Platonism and Abraham’s Silence
Then, some comments by Brian Walsh and Sylvia Keesmaat in response to my blog about classical theism suggested a further connection between the three posts—namely, Neoplatonism, or at least the traditions of Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy that preceded Neoplatonism proper.
It was in those traditions of Greek philosophy that we get the idea that God is unaffected by emotion or by any outside influences.
And if humans are made in the image of this God, then we would naturally valorize (in Sylvia Keesmaat’s words) “the strong silent male who doesn’t demonstrate any emotion when asked to do something that should tear his heart out, and who believes that God is not open to dialogue and challenge.”
This is remarkably similar to how Abraham is thought of in many traditional interpretations of Genesis 22.
So—wonder of wonders—it actually looks like there is some coherence to my thinking about disparate subjects (even when I am not aware of it).
I am grateful for the many people—scholars, clergy, and lay people—who have engaged my argument that Abraham’s attempt to sacrifice Isaac should not be viewed as positive. As many reviewers have noted, my argument isn’t meant to be iconoclastic or trendy. Rather, I tried to show on biblical grounds (both from the overall context of Scripture and from detailed attention to Genesis 22) why we should question whether Abraham’s response to God was appropriate.
Not everyone has been convinced by my argument. But I have been deeply honored by how many people have taken the book seriously and interacted with it, whether in blog posts, journal reviews, or Facebook messages and emails. And I am gratified that even when readers haven’t been convinced of my interpretation of Genesis 22, most have found my overall argument about the biblical model of vigorous prayer (and especially my exposition of the book of Job in chapters 3 and 4) to be helpful.
This serious engagement (along with disagreement) was on display at the panel discussion of Abraham’s Silence at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature (SBL) in Denver, on November 21, 2022.
I am extremely thankful for the six panelists, who graciously interacted with the book and raised important questions about many aspects of my argument.
The panel was jointly sponsored by two SBL program units: The Theology of the Hebrew Scriptures and The National Association of Professors of Hebrew.
We had six biblical scholars on the panel—Shai Held, Rachel Adelman, Marv Sweeney, Carmen Imes, Rebekah Eklund, and Brittany Kim. Since Brittany came down with COVID during the conference, Megan Roberts kindly read her paper.
We made sure to have a wide variety of panelists, Jewish and Christian; male and female; established, mid-career, and relatively new scholars.
My Response to the Panelists
Instead of responding to every question posed by the panelists (since they covered so much ground), I focused on clarifying even further (beyond what I said in the book) the rationale for my interpretation of the Aqedah, particularly the core of my argument that Abraham’s response was less than optimal.
To that end I gave further evidence for Abraham’s lack of love for Isaac (which even Sarah recognized), such that it would make no sense to think that the test was whether he was more committed to God than to his son.
I emphasized (much more than I did in the book) that it is almost impossible to go beyond the constraints of the traditional reading of Genesis 22, given how powerfully the history of interpretation exerts pressure upon readers of the text.
It is almost impossible, but not quite. However, it does require readers to be self-aware of when they are actually doing exegesis and not simply falling into the default interpretation because it seems “obvious.”
I spent most of my response in giving a fuller explanation of why I thought that the angel speeches did not validate Abraham’s response, but rather articulated God’s gracious compensation for Abraham’s failure (or, to put it less harshly, his less than adequate response to the test).
But Doesn’t the New Testament Exalt Abraham for His Response to God in Genesis 22?
In my response paper, I also touched on the question of why the New Testament (especially Hebrews 11 and James 2) views Abraham’s response to God positively (this is the most common question I receive from Christian readers about Abraham’s Silence).
Although my comments here were very brief, I pointed out that whatever we think of Hebrews 11, other passages in Hebrews clearly affirm the validity of lament both in the life of Jesus and in the life of believers.
Hebrews 5 notes that: “In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence” (Hebrews 5:7). This is the sort of reverence or fear of God that is fully compatible with vigorous grappling.
And Hebrews 4 encourages the reader with these words: “Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16). So however we take the affirmation of Abraham in Hebrews 11, this is clearly not an epistle that endorses silent submission to God.
Given the need to address the above issue, I plan to write an article that examines the explicit and implicit references to the Aqedah in the New Testament; this will be in the context of trying to understand how the New Testament typically appeals to the Old Testament.
What Abraham Might Have Said: The Aqedah in an Alternative Timeline
I concluded my response by reading a “script” that I wrote of what Abraham might have said to God in place of the silent obedience recorded in Genesis 22 (we could think of it as the Aqedah in an alternative timeline).
In some ways, thinking of what Abraham might have said is the best argument against his silent attempt to sacrifice his son.
What would it be like to rewrite Genesis 22 in the way that you would conceive it with Abraham passing the “test” with flying colors? Do you have a script for that? If not, you should have! (Wouldn’t that be fun to present at your panel review?)
His request prodded me to write it that very afternoon and then send it to him. He used the script in one of his classes the following day. It is amazing how requests from others can often be writing prompts.
I have inserted biblical references within the script (below) where I have drawn on language from elsewhere in Scripture. Most of the references are to Moses’s bold prayer at the golden calf in Exodus 32.
After these things, God tested Abraham. He said, “Abraham.”
His faithful servant answered, “Here I am.”
“Take your son,” said the Lord, “your only one—whom you love—Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah and offer him up as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I will show you.”
And Abraham was dumbfounded.
Was this God speaking? The God he had come to know?
Abraham knew there were many gods, as many as the peoples of all the lands he had traveled through—from Ur in Mesopotamia to Haran in Aram to the towns and cities of Canaan. And many of them required child sacrifice as a sign of devotion.
But could his God be asking this too? He thought he had been coming to know the character of the one called El Shaddai—that this One was different from the gods of the nations.
Could God really mean for him to kill his own son? Why? What would it prove? How could this be God’s will?
Abraham was shell shocked—and silent for a time.
But then he plucked up his courage and with the chutzpah that would come to be recognized as emblematic of the later people descended from him, Abraham spoke up. At first his voice was quavering.
Ah, Lord God, he said. Are you really asking me to kill this young, innocent lad?
Do you really want me to live with the everlasting memory of his blood on my hands? Do you want to subject me to a lifetime of nightmares and flashbacks of me taking a knife to his young neck? Do you really want to do this to me?
Have mercy, Lord.
I know that I have not been close to this boy, not nearly as close as to my firstborn, Ishmael. That boy I loved, and you forced me to send him away.
Now you want me to kill the only son I have left.
Isaac was always Sarah’s favorite. Do you know what this will do to her? She will die too—if not physically, then she will die inside.
She and I already have problems between us, because of Hagar and Ishmael. I know it was her idea; but it backfired. Sarah is already distant from me. Do you want to drive us further apart?
But if you don’t have pity on me or my wife, Lord, have pity on the boy! He has done nothing to deserve this. Why should his life be cut short just to show my dedication to you?
Do you want his last memory to be of me, his father, tying him down like a sheep for slaughter and then taking a butcher knife to his neck? You can’t want that, Lord!
Are you angry with me? Why does your wrath burn hot against me, the one you brought out of Ur of the Chaldees and out of Haran, to this land? [Exodus 32:11] What have I done to so offend you, Master of the Universe?
Plus, you made a promise to me and to Sarah, that through this boy our descendants would become a great nation. What will become of your promise then?
No—I am going to hold you to your word, Lord. I have told many of the peoples of this land, whom I have met, of what you pledged to do through the line of Isaac.
But if they hear of this, that you have commanded his death—for whatever reason—do you know how that will look? It will reflect badly on you.
The Philistines and the Egyptians (whose kings I deceived that Sarah was my sister) will hear of it and they will think that it was with evil intent that you gave me this boy—only to kill him on the mountains and to consume him from the face of the earth. [Exodus 32:12a]
And then Abraham was silent, wondering if he had overstepped his bounds.
He remembered that when he had pled for Sodom, he modulated his boldness, admitting that he was just dust and ashes. [Genesis 18:27] And he twice asked God not to be angry with him for interceding for that evil people. [Genesis 18:30, 32a]
His boldness came from his concern for Lot and his family, living in Sodom. What would become of them if God destroyed that evil city?
He had asked God to save the city if there could be found fifty innocent people there. God agreed. So he asked for forty-five, then forty; then thirty, then twenty. [Genesis 18:24–31] But he stopped at ten. [Genesis 18:32] He didn’t have the courage to ask God to save the city for less than that.
But Lot and his family were eight at the most. At the time he didn’t think he could push God quite that far. It seemed like asking for too much.
But now, what did he have to lose?
So Abraham dug deep and found his courage and his voice again. He cried out:
I know I am far from innocent. Lord, take me instead of my son. But, whatever you do, do not kill this innocent boy.
Will you really sweep away the innocent with the wicked? [Genesis 18:23]
Far be it from you to do such a thing, to slay the innocent with the wicked, so that the innocent fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just? [Genesis 18:25]
No Lord. I plead with you: change your mind. Turn from your fierce wrath and do not bring this evil upon your chosen one! [Exodus 32:12b]
And the Lord changed his mind about the evil he was about to bring on Isaac. [Exodus 32:14]
And God spoke from heaven, saying:
Well done, good and faithful servant. [Matthew 25:23]
You have understood that I am, indeed, a God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, showing love to thousands. [Exodus 34:6-7a]
Indeed, I desire mercy and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings. [Hosea 6:6; Matthew 9:13]
But what good would it do to just tell you that? What would those mere words mean to you?
But by your bold intercession for your son you have attained true knowledge of the God you serve.
Indeed, you dared to call on me to be faithful to my promise. That demonstrated your trust in me. And trust is better than blind submission.
So, yes, Abraham, I have granted your request. Isaac is redeemed by your prayer.
Go in peace and enjoy life with your wife, Sarah, and your son, whom you are beginning to love.
And then God departed from his servant Abraham.
It wasn’t clear before Abraham’s intercession that he had much love for Isaac.
But now, having stood up for him, defending him against God’s seeming desire to slay him, a few sparks of love began to flow between father and son.
And Abraham began to nurture that love and fan the sparks into a fire—with the hope that his family might be healed.
And Abraham’s taught his children and his household the way of the Lord. [Genesis 18:19] His descendants were known from then on for their surpassing mercy and generosity to all the families of the earth. Indeed, they were a blessing to all nations. [Genesis 12:3]