Category Archives: Eschatology

Walter Brueggemann on A New Heaven and a New Earth

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The writings of Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann have had a profound impact on my thinking over the years.

Back when I was a theology graduate student, I read Brueggemann’s The  Message of the Psalms: A Theological Commentary (Augsburg, 1984). This book introduced me to the importance of human experience embedded in the Psalter, especially the value of lament psalms in processing pain and helping us move towards newness of life. The Message of the Psalms was life-altering and spoke directly to where I was in my faith journey. Brueggemann’s insights into lament, both in this book and in his famous article on the “costly loss of lament,” greatly influenced my own argument about the inadequacy of classical theodicy in “Why the ‘Greater Good’ Isn’t a Defense.”

Then I read The Prophetic Imagination (Fortress, 1978; 2nd ed. 2000), which crystallized the contrast between the impulse to autonomy and control in Pharaoh’s Egypt and the Israelite monarchy, on the one hand, and the challenge to this autonomy in the exodus and in the Yahwistic faith in the prophets, on the other. This book, published a few years before the Psalms book, articulated the move in the prophetic literature from embracing pain (here Brueggemann focused on Jeremiah) to being energized by hope (here he focused on Deutero-Isaiah). It was The Prophetic Imagination, more than any other resource, that opened my eyes to the sociopolitical implications of the gospel. Brueggemann was helpful in providing a paradigm for interpreting both the Old Testament and the New; his chapters on the cross and resurrection of Jesus in terms of the prophetic pattern of the Old Testament were illuminating.

However, I began to see certain limitations in Brueggemann’s analysis of patterns in the Bible. His take on Scripture was very helpful in addressing suffering and injustice and in prodding us towards a redemptive vision. But his suspicious interpretation of creation texts in the Old Testament did not match my experience of these texts as liberating and empowering. In fact, Israel’s Praise (Fortress, 1988), his second book on the Psalms (he has since written more), was even more suspicious of creation texts, interpreting them, along with the enthronement psalms, as nothing more than royal legitimation for the status quo. It was my high respect for Brueggemann, combined with my perception of a different reading of creation in the Old Testament, that led me to publish a critical review of the topic, titled “Is Creation Theology Inherently Conservative? A Dialogue with Walter Brueggemann” (1994).

Prior to publication, I presented this paper at the Society of Biblical Literature (SBL) in 1992. Since the conference organizers had put my paper right after a panel discussion that Brueggemann participated in, he was there to hear my paper. It also turned out that the person who was to present after me had pulled out of the conference, so there was a gap of half-an-hour. The conference chair asked Brueggemann if he would say a few words in response, since we had some time. I actually have no recollection what Brueggemann specifically said, since I was sick as a dog. I had laryngitis the night before and wasn’t even sure I would be able to deliver the paper. As it was, I had to speak in almost a whisper (I told the audience that I came to them in the weakness of the flesh).

All I remember is that Brueggemann was very gracious; he was basically affirming and appreciative. And then when my paper was published, he wrote a very positive response, locating my paper among various recent approaches to Old Testament creation theology. I found out later that even before my SBL presentation Brueggemann had already begun to come to a more positive view of the topic of creation, evident in his oral presentations (I later listened to some recordings). Some of his more positive views found their way into his Texts Under Negotiation: The Bible and Postmodern Imagination (Fortress, 1993), and later into his magnum opus, Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy (Fortress, 1997).

I’ve had many contacts with Walter Brueggemann over the years, from responding to a paper he gave at the Institute for Christian Studies in Toronto (in 1997) to hearing him give papers at SBL and attending many of his speaking engagements in Rochester.

He wrote a great blub for the back cover of Truth Is Stranger Than It Used to Be: Biblical Faith for a Postmodern Age (IVP, 1995), which I co-authored with Brian Walsh, and he even sent me a nice card congratulating me when I got a full-time teaching appointment at Colgate Rochester Divinity School in 1996. Later, he wrote a very positive endorsement of my book The Liberating Image: The Imago Dei in Genesis 1 (Brazos, 2005).

More recently, Brueggemann has written an endorsement for A New Heaven and a New Earth: Reclaiming Biblical Eschatology (Baker Academic, 2014):

“Richard Middleton plunges boldly into a most-treasured misreading of the Bible. He shows the way in which ‘other-worldly’ hope of ‘going to heaven’ is a total misread of gospel faith. In a demanding, sure-footed way he walks the reader through a rich deposit of biblical texts to make clear that the gospel concerns the transformation of the earth and not escape from it. Middleton summons us to repentance for such a mistaken understanding that has had disastrous practical implications. This is a repentance that he himself avows. When his book catches on, it will have an immense impact on the way in which we think and act about our common future in the gospel, a common future with important socio-economic, political derivatives. The reader will be rewarded by Middleton’s boldness.”

Actually, it is I who have been rewarded by Brueggemann’s boldness—I’ve been rewarded again and again.

Paul on the “Soul”—Not What You Might Think

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Many Christians throughout history have thought that the “soul” was an immaterial part of the person, and of more importance than the body. Moreover, the “soul” has often been regarded as the immortal or eternal part of the person.

Plato versus the Old Testament on the “Soul”

We have now come to understand that this view of the “soul” ultimately goes back to Plato. In Plato’s anthropological dualism, the human person is constituted by body (partaking of mortality, change, and impermanence) and soul (the higher, eternal part of the person; in some sense, the true person). Plato understood soul (psyche) as essentially mind and regarded it as divine (he called it “the god within”).

Plato’s anthropological dualism (the split in the human person) corresponded to his broader ontological dualism (the split in the nature of reality). He thought that the finite, changeable realm of physical existence, along with sense perception and bodily desires, was manifestly inferior to the divine, immaterial realm of rational intelligibility (the “Forms” or “Ideas”), which existed eternally and without change.

In contrast to the Platonic view is the Old Testament vision of a good creation; God made the cosmos (including materiality and embodiment) and pronounced it “very good” (Gen 1:31).

Likewise, the Old Testament understanding of nephesh (the Hebrew word typically translated “soul”) is very different from Plato’s idea of the soul. It’s core meaning is simply organic life (the semantic range of the term includes other uses, but this is basic). This core meaning shows up in Genesis 2:7, where God creates the first man to be a “living soul” (that is, a living organism).

Paul on the Contrast of “Flesh” and “Spirit”

But doesn’t the Apostle Paul have a contrast between flesh and spirit? Isn’t this an anthropological dualism, a contrast between two parts of the person?

It is true that Pauline language about “flesh” and “Spirit” can sound dualistic. But when Paul uses “flesh” in the negative sense (note that he sometimes uses it positively) he means the power of corruption in the world and in human life, and does not mean the body per se. Likewise “Spirit” refers to the power of God to transform our lives, including our bodies at the resurrection. So “flesh” and “Spirit” are contrasted as two powers that can affect every dimension of life; they are not two realms or two parts of the human person. And they lead to two different ways of life.

Paul typically contrasts following the way of Christ (led by the Spirit) and following the values of this corrupted world. The key here is that God’s good world has been infected by sin (the world is not the way it was meant to be), so we need to resist the present order of things and follow Christ’s way. Since Christ’s way is a radical alternative to this world, it will involve denial and possibly even suffering.

But the ultimate result of suffering for Paul is glory—the resurrection and the age to come. The end point is the world redeemed from its corruption. So, while Paul is brutally honest about the real ethical and religious distinction between good and evil (which he sometimes terms spirit and flesh), he does not identify the created order with evil. Indeed, he affirms that creation will be redeemed.

“Soul” Is Not the Opposite of Body for Paul

Interestingly, “soul” (psyche) is never contrasted to the body in Paul.

Soul isn’t part of Paul’s typical anthropology. He doesn’t think of a human as body and soul; he does speak of the inner person and the outer person, which is more phenomenological, since we experience an inner and an outer of our life, but he doesn’t treat them as separable pieces of the person.

In one place (1 Thessalonians 5:23) Paul mentions spirit, soul, and body, meaning something like lock, stock, and barrel (he is not giving us his theoretical anthropology).

Beyond that, both the word “soul” (psyche) and the adjective “soulish” (psychikos) show up in Paul as value-laden terms. The latter is translated “natural” in English versions, and it tends to have a negative valuation. Let us look at two main examples of this Pauline usage.

“Soul” and “Soulish” in 1 Corinthians 15

The first example is from 1 Corinthians 15, which describes our present mortal/corruptible body as a psychikos (natural) body, in contrast to our future immortal resurrection body as a pneumatikos (spiritual) body. When Paul says “spiritual” he doesn’t mean immaterial. Platonists have often read this as a reference to an immaterial body, whatever that means. but Paul means a body enlivened, empowered, and transformed by God’s Spirit.

This is clear from his contrast in the same chapter between Adam and Christ. Drawing on Genesis 2, he says that Adam was created a living soul (we saw that “soul” in Hebrew usually means a living/breathing organism). So Adam is a psyche/soul. He does not have a soul. The point is he is a mortal organism.

But Paul says that Christ was raised a life-giving Spirit. Is Paul denying the bodily resurrection?

Not at all. He means that Christ’s resurrection, which came about by the vivifying power of God’s Spirit, has the potential to impart the same life to us also (this is a central theme in Paul’s letters)—both in the present (to enable us to live a new life) and in the future (when even our bodies will be redeemed).

But my main point in referencing 1 Corinthians 15 is that Paul contrasts not soul and body, but soul (mortality) and (God’s) Spirit (the power of new life). These are not two realms or two parts of the person, but our original human status (which is now corrupted by sin) and the transformation we can expect from the resurrection.

“Soulish” in 1 Corinthians 2:1-3:4

The second example requires us to go beyond most current English translations, back to the King James Version (KJV) or the American Standard Version (ASV), which are more literal (but the current translations are not wrong).

In 1 Corinthians 2:1-3:4 Paul addresses the wisdom of God (which is from the Spirit of God, and which we can’t grasp unless we have God’s Spirit) with the folly of the world. Here he contrasts “the Spirit who is from God” with the “spirit of the world” in 2:12.

Then Paul goes on to distinguish those who are spiritual (pneumatikos; 2:13, 15; 3:1), who have God’s Spirit, from 1) those who are psychikos (the “natural man” in KJV; 2:14) and from 2) those who are sarkinos (the “carnal man” in KJV; 3:1, 3).

When I heard this passage preached from the KJV (long, long ago), the distinction was made between being spiritual, natural, and carnal (three levels of spirituality, if you will).

Pretty much all modern translations now (correctly) identify psychikos (soulish/natural) with sarkinos (fleshly/carnal) and often translate them the same, sometimes with “unspiritual” or “natural.” They correctly treat soul and flesh as equivalent here.

So living according to the flesh means living as one who accepts the ordinary, fallen world (= soul) as normative (both flesh and soul are contrasted with living according to God’s Spirit). Living according to soul/flesh is equivalent to living according to the “spirit of the world” (2:12).

So while “soul” (psyche) can have a somewhat neutral value in reference to human mortality (which is our original, created status), the adjective “soulish” (psychikos) refers to our current mortal life, which is now fallen, and is thus an overwhelmingly negative term in Pauline theology.

What About the “Salvation of the Soul”?

That phrase is found in 1 Peter 1:9 and in Hebrews 10:39 (neither written by Paul), and in both cases “soul” means the whole person (as a living organism); soul is not contrasted with body (compare modern translations to see this).

But Paul himself could never speak of the “salvation of the soul”!

In contrast to Plato (and the Platonic worldview that the church has often inherited), Paul doesn’t think of “soul” as a part of the person. Rather both “soul” and “soulish” designate for Paul the mortal (now corrupt) world that is passing away.

What About the Rapture in 1 Thess 4? Problem Texts for Holistic Eschatology, Part 2

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In an earlier post I noted that my new eschatology book, A New Heaven and a New Earth, examines “problem texts for holistic eschatology”—passages from the New Testament that suggest that the earth will be destroyed at Christ’s return or that seem to teach a heavenly destiny for believers.

One of the most prominent ideas that pops into the heads of many Christians when they think of eschatology is the “rapture,” the event when Christ will (supposedly) snatch up all living believers from earth to heaven at his return. Technically, the function of the rapture in dispensationalist theology (which is where it originated) is to temporarily remove Christians from the earth while the rest of the human population is subject to the terrible sufferings known as the Great Tribulation. But in the minds of most Christians, the rapture serves to emphasize that we can expect a heavenly destiny, while the earth will be destroyed.

Two Rapture Texts

There are two main New Testament texts that are typically thought to teach the rapture (though, as we shall see, only one of them is typically used by dispensationalist theologians).

The first text is 1 Thessalonians 4:17, where the Greek verb for being “caught up” (which is what “rapture” means) is harpazō. The English word “rapture” is derived from the Latin verb rapio, which was used in the Latin Vulgate to translate harpazō in 1 Thessalonians 4:17.

There is also a second text that is often appealed to in popular contemporary eschatology as support for the rapture, though the term there is “taken” (paralambanō), not “caught up” (Matthew 24:40-41; and its parallel text Luke 17:34-35).

In this post I will examine 1 Thessalonians 4:17 in the context of verses 13-18 (which is the relevant literary unit). I will examine Matthew 24 // Luke 17 in the next post.

The Point of 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

It is important to note at the outset that Paul’s point in 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 is pastoral (he does not intend to teach eschatology). This is why he concludes by saying: “encourage one other with these words” (v. 18). Specifically, Paul is addressing the question of whether those who have died in the faith prior to the return of the Lord will be disadvantaged at Christ’s return.

He affirms that they will not be disadvantaged. Indeed, the dead in Christ will have precedence over the living, since they will be raised first. “Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever” (1 Thess 4:17). Paul is thus encouraging the church in Thessaloniki, emphasizing that they don’t need to worry about those from their midst who have passed away before the second coming.

The Ambiguity of Where “We Will Be with the Lord”

Nevertheless, verse 17 certainly seems, at first blush, to support the idea of living eternally in heaven, since having met the Lord in the air, “we will be with the Lord forever.” It is intriguing, however, that the text does not actually say where we will be with the Lord forever. This has to be supplied by the interpreter from the tenor of the rest of Scripture. As I argue throughout the rest of the eschatology book, Scripture suggests this will be on earth.

This conclusion is confirmed when we explore the meaning of two loaded terms that Paul uses, both of which have political overtones.

The Significance of the Lord’s “Coming” (parousia)

First of all, Paul refers to the “coming [parousia] of the Lord” (1 Thess 4:15). As is now recognized by New Testament scholars, parousia often refers to an official divine or imperial visit—the “coming” of a god or a king to a city, which clearly makes sense in our text. The parousia in ancient times was a matter of great celebration, with much pomp and ceremony, thus Paul’s reference to the public announcement of Christ’s parousia by “the archangel’s call” and “the sound of God’s trumpet” (1 Thess 4:16), and also the important issue of who would meet the Lord first.

The Idea of “Meeting” (apantēsis)

Associated with the parousia is the idea of apantēsis (“meeting”), which Paul mentions in verse 17. The expression eis apantēsin or its variant eis hupantēsin (literally, “to a meeting” in the accusative case) is usually translated verbally, as an action (“to meet”). New Testament scholars have pointed out that this served as a quasi-technical term for sending a delegation outside the walls of a city to formally receive a dignitary. Note that at Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, people “took branches of palm trees and went out to meet [hupantēsis] him,” acclaiming him the “King of Israel” (John 12:13).

The two related nouns hupantēsis and apantēsis are also found in Jesus’ parable of the wise and foolish virgins (or bridesmaids) in Matthew 25:1-13 (vv. 1 and 6, respectively). The wise ones, who were prepared for the bridegroom’s coming, “went out to meet him” (Matt 25:6) and then escorted him to the wedding banquet.

Paul himself experienced this sort of reception on his trip to Rome. “The believers from there, when they heard of us, came as far as the Forum of Appius and Three Taverns to meet [apantēsis] us” (Acts 28:15).

Paul’s Application of apantēsis to the Return of Christ

It was customary for people to vie for pride of place in meeting the coming dignitary, hence Paul’s assurance in 1 Thessalonians 4:15-16 that Christians who had already died would not be inconvenienced at this great event; rather they would rise first (and thus be the first to meet the coming King).

Since cemeteries were located outside city walls in the first century, often lining the main road leading to the city, Paul’s readers could vividly imagine the scenario of the dead in Christ being raised as the King passed by, before those in the city went out to meet him as he approached the city gates. This also makes sense of Paul’s statement that “God will bring with him [Christ] those who have died” (1Thess 4:14); this suggests that those raised from the graves, who have met the returning Lord, will then enter the city with him.

The most important point in the above scenario is that those who went out to meet the dignitary returned with him, escorting him in grand procession into their city. In this case, this clearly means an escort to earth.

Beyond the background custom of an imperial visit (represented by parousia and apantēsis) and the clear biblical teaching of the redemption of creation, there are further reasons to doubt that 1 Thessalonians means to teach the rapture, as classically understood.

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 Describes a Public Event

First, the rapture is supposed to be a secret event, yet the coming of Christ in 1 Thessalonians 4 is announced with great fanfare, “with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call and with the sound of God’s trumpet” (1 Thess 4:16). This is similar to the sound of the trumpet in 1 Corinthians 15:51-52, which describes the suddenness of Christ’s coming, accompanied by the transformation of living believers and the resurrection of those who have died.

“Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.” (1 Cor 15:51-52)

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 Is About the Resurrection and the Final State

Furthermore, in its most popular form, the rapture is meant to remove living believers from earth so that the Tribulation can begin (all dead believers are already in heaven). But in 1 Thessalonians 4 Paul speaks of both dead and living believers rising to meet Christ. The text is thus not about removal of believers from earth at all. Like 1 Corinthians 15, 1 Thessalonians 4 addresses the resurrection of the dead and transformation of the living that will accompany Christ’s decisive coming as Lord to judge the world and make all things new.

My analysis of Matthew 24 and the rapture is next.