Category Archives: Eschatology

Further Thoughts on the Imago Dei: After The Liberating Image

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A blogger on the Jesus Creed website who goes by the initials RJS recently posted a series on my book The Liberating Image: The Imago Dei in Genesis 1. This is my guest post response, in which I describe how my thinking on the imago Dei has developed since the book was published.  It is posted at http://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2014/08/05/richard-middleton-after-the-liberating-image-rjs/

Blogger Jon Garvey responded positively to this post here and raised some interpretive questions, which I then answered here.

Richard Middleton: After The Liberating Image.

I’m honored that RJS has posted a nine-part series on my book The Liberating Image: The Imago Dei in Genesis 1 (Brazos, 2005). The exposition and analysis of my argument in these posts has been totally accurate (something I have only rarely found in book reviews). In this post I am responding to RJS’s invitation to share some of my more recent thoughts on the topic of the imago Dei.

My Purpose in The Liberating Image

In The Liberating Image I was primarily concerned to bridge the gap between Old Testament studies and systematic theology on the topic of the imago Dei. So I took pains to justify a royal-functional interpretation of the image (the mainstream view among Old Testament scholars), the view that humans are God’s royal representatives on earth, charged with manifesting his rule through the range of their cultural activities. I attempted to do this by interpreting Genesis 1:26-28 in its immediate literary context (Genesis 1:1-2:3), in the wider symbolic world of the Old Testament, and against the background of ancient Near Eastern (especially Mesopotamian) royal ideology and creation myths. And I tried to show that this interpretation made sense of Genesis 1-11 as a coherent narrative meant to shape the worldview of ancient Israel (and, by implication, the church today). To that end I addressed some of the ethical implications of the imago Dei especially concerning the legitimation of violence.

Topics Omitted from The Liberating Image

There was, of course, much more that could be said. I had originally planned to include an analysis of the critique of idolatry and monarchy in the Old Testament prophets, and I had wanted to address Jesus as imago Dei, the renewal of image in the church, and the fulfillment of the imago Dei in the eschaton. This ended up being beyond the scope of the book.

I had, however, touched on some of those topics earlier—in The Transforming Vision: Shaping a Christian World View (a 1984 book co-authored with Brian Walsh) and in “The Liberating Image? Interpreting the Imago Dei in Context” (a 1994 article in Christian Scholar’s Review).

My Recent Writing on the Imago Dei

Since writing The Liberating Image, I have developed my ideas further about the meaning of the imago Dei. I wrote a short piece on “Image of God” for the Dictionary of Scripture and Ethics (Baker Academic, 2011) and a slightly longer piece for the Encyclopedia of the Bible and Theology (Oxford University Press, forthcoming). But I’ve also been working on a new book entitled A New Heaven and a New Earth: Reclaiming Biblical Eschatology (Baker Academic, 2014). Although the topic of this book is God’s desire to redeem this world, rather than taking us out of it to “heaven,” my latest thinking on the imago Dei is central to the book’s argument.

A New Focus to My Exposition of the Topic

In these recent writings, as in my current teaching on the subject (in courses on the biblical worldview), I have nuanced my presentation beyond what is found in The Liberating Image, and have begun to highlight what we might call the cultic-priestly (or sacramental) dimension of the royal-functional interpretation of the image. This dimension of the imago Dei was mentioned in The Liberating Image at various points (especially in chapters 2 and 3), but is now central to my exposition. I typically begin with creation as a cosmic temple and God’s intent to fill the cosmos with his presence or glory (which Jewish writers later called the Shekinah); this eschatological filling is anticipated in the wilderness tabernacle (Exodus 40:34-35) and the Jerusalem temple (1 Kings 8:10-11; 2 Chronicles 7:1-3), which were both filled with God’s glory upon completion.

I have come to see that temple theology (and humanity as God’s image in the cosmic temple) is an important way of developing a biblical theology that unifies both Old and New Testaments.

The Conceptual Unity of Genesis 1 and 2

Although the Spirit (rûaḥ) of God was hovering over the unformed earth at the start of Genesis 1, as if God were getting ready to breathe his presence into the cosmic temple of creation, when creation is complete and God rests from his work (Genesis 2), there is no mention of any filling with the divine presence. Interpreted in canonical context, this Spirit-filling is delayed until the garden narrative of Genesis 2. There God, having molded the human being from the dust of the ground, breathes his breath (nišmâ) into the inanimate creature, which results in the creature’s becoming a “living being.”

The creation of the first human in Genesis 2 reflects many aspects of a Mesopotamian ritual known as the mïs pî (the washing of the mouth) or pït pî (the opening of the mouth). Known from Assyrian and Babylonian writings, this ritual typically took place in a sacred grove beside a river (see Genesis 2:10, 13-14). The purpose of the ritual was to vivify a newly carved cult statue so that it would become a living entity, imbued with the spirit and presence of the god of which it was an image. The image was thus transformed from an inert object to a living, breathing, manifestation of the deity on earth.

When read against this ancient Near Eastern background, Genesis 1 and 2 are in profound harmony with each other, despite their genuine differences. In both texts humanity is understood as the authorized cult statue in the cosmic temple, the decisive locus of divine presence on earth. This understanding of the human role means that God never intended his presence to fill the cosmic temple automatically. That is precisely the vocation of humanity, the bearer of the divine presence.

It was God’s purpose, from the beginning, to bring the cosmic temple to its intended destiny by human agency, in cooperation with God. So humans (as image of God) were to fill the earth with descendants (Genesis 1:28) who would represent God’s rule in their cultural pursuits and flourish in accordance with God’s wisdom. The human race was created to extend the presence of God from heaven (the cosmic holy of holies) to earth (the holy place) until the earth is filled with the glory of God as the waters cover the sea (combining Numbers 14:21; Isaiah 11:9; Habakkuk 2:14); or, to use Pauline language, when God will be all in all (1 Corinthians 15:28).

The Imago Dei after Sin

Humans, however, have filled the earth not simply with their descendants but also with violence (Genesis 6:11 is an ironic comment on Genesis 1:28). And whereas in the beginning God looked at all he had made and saw that it was “very good” (Genesis 1:31), God later sees that the “evil” of humanity has become “great” on the earth (Genesis 6:5). These ironic statements follow from God’s earlier assessment that humans, created to be God’s image, had indeed become “like one of us” (Genesis 3:22)—though not in the appropriate sense.

From this point on, Scripture tells a story of God’s purposes for the restoration of flourishing in earthly life in tension with the human propensity to misuse the vocation of imago Dei (which clearly continues after sin; see Genesis 5:1 and 9:6).

Since violence has impeded the human calling to be God’s image on earth, the Bible narrates God’s intervention in history to set things right, initially through the election of Abraham and his descendants as a “royal priesthood” (Exodus 19:6) to mediate blessing to all families and nations (Genesis 12:3; 18:18; 22:18; 26:4; 28:14). Israel’s vocation vis-à-vis the nations is analogous to the human calling as imago Dei vis-à-vis the earth. And the redemption of Israel constitutes the beginning of God’s renewal of the image, a process meant to spread to the entire human race.

The Imago Dei and Idolatry

One aspect of human sin is idolatry (the construction and worship of false images of the divine). It is significant that Israel, as representative of humanity, is portrayed in Ezekiel as God’s true image in the world, in contrast to idols. Much of the language in Ezekiel 16 describing Israel’s turn to idols (see verses 15-19) is first used by God to portray his relationship to Israel; he washes them, clothes them, and adorns them with gold and silver (Ezekiel 16:8-14). Israel (like humanity, generally) is God’s own cult statue in the world.

The imago Dei theme recurs in Isaiah 40-55; where the presence of God’s Spirit (rûaḥ) on the servant of the LORD enables him to accomplish justice for the nations (Isaiah 42:1-4). This is in contrast to the images of the nations, which are “empty wind” (rûaḥ vatohû), according to Isaiah 41:29. But God gives “breath” (nišmâ) and “spirit” (rûaḥ) to humanity (Isaiah 42:5). This contrast between idols and humans in Isaiah echoes the statement in other prophetic texts that the images of the nations are false precisely because they have no rûaḥ in them (Jeremiah 10:14; 51:17; Habakkuk 2:19). Unlike humans, idols are not living images and have no power to act in the world (Psalm 115:4-8).

Incarnation and Imago Dei

A cultic-priestly understanding of the imago Dei not only clarifies the human vocation, both in its created dignity and in its tragic corruption, it also provides a basis for understanding the New Testament claim that Jesus is God-with-us (Matthew 1:22-23), the Word made flesh (John 1:14), the paradigmatic imago Dei (Colossians 1:15; Hebrews 1:3; 2 Corinthians 4:4-6). Humans as God’s image had failed in their priestly vocation to be the bond between heaven and earth. This vocation was faithfully fulfilled by Jesus, the second Adam (1 Corinthians 15:22, 25), the one who completely manifested God’s character and presence in his life (John 14:9). Through the obedience of Jesus, even to death on a cross, humanity’s tragic failure has been reversed (Romans 5:17-19); and those who share in Christ’s death will also share in his resurrection and rule (2 Timothy 2:11-12a).

The Church as Imago Dei and Temple

A cultic-priestly interpretation of the imago Dei also grounds the Pauline notion that the risen Jesus has become the head of an international community of Jew and Gentile, indwelt by God’s Spirit. The church is thus the “new humanity” (a better translation than the “new self” found in most modern translations), renewed in the image of God (Ephesians 4:24; Colossians 3:9-10) and called to live up to the stature of Christ, whose perfect imaging becomes the model for the life of the redeemed (Philippians 2:5; Ephesians 4:13-16, 24; 5:1-2; Colossians 3:13). Indeed, the church will one day be conformed to the full likeness of Christ (1 John 3:2), which will include the resurrection of the body (1 Corinthians 15:49).

The Imago Dei in the Eschaton

Whereas the church is presently God’s temple (1 Corinthians 3:16-17; 6:19; 2 Corinthians 6:16; Ephesians 2:21) indwelt by the Holy Spirit as a foretaste of the promised future, the day will come when the curse is removed from the earth (a reversal of Genesis 3:17). Then God’s dwelling will no longer be confined to heaven. Instead, God’s throne will permanently be established on a renewed earth (Revelation 21:3; 22:3), and those ransomed by Christ from all tribes and nations will reign as priests forever (Revelation 5:9-10; 22:5). This climactic fulfillment of the imago Dei is portrayed by the New Jerusalem, which (paradoxically) is both redeemed people and holy city (that is, the renewal of humanity in all their concrete, cultural—even urban—reality). Furthermore, the city is described as a cube (Revelation 21:16), which is the distinctive shape of the holy of holies in the Jerusalem temple (1 Kings 6:20; Ezekiel 41:4). Thus the city-as-people is the center of God’s presence in a renewed cosmos.

While there is much more that could be said on this topic, the cultic-priestly understanding of the imago Dei provides an interpretive lens that unifies the entire canonical story from creation to eschaton; and it can shape our understanding of the church’s mission as we live between the times.

If you want to respond to this post you can post comments here or you can add your comments to those already posted at the Jesus Creed website: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2014/08/05/richard-middleton-after-the-liberating-image-rjs/

For Jon Garvey’s response to this post click here; for my answer to his questions, click here.

Does Tom Wright Believe in the Second Coming?

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Tom Wright (a.k.a N. T. Wright) is a brilliant theologian and biblical scholar, who has shaken up many people’s assumptions about what the Bible actually teaches. He is especially well known for arguing that the Bible teaches a renewed earth, instead of our “going to heaven.” And he has attempted to redefine our interpretation of “justification” in Paul’s writings, by paying attention to first-century Judaism instead of reading later ideas back into Paul.

What makes Wright so interesting is that he affirms (and models) that it is possible to come up with new ideas and fresh interpretations of Scripture while standing firmly in the non-negotiable tradition of classic, orthodox Christianity.

This is not the place to comment on his view of justification (it’s not my expertise). And I have already indicated (in an earlier post) my basic agreement with his ideas of a renewed earth. Here I want just to clarify one point of his eschatology that is often misunderstood.

The need to clarify this point arose when I was writing my book on eschatology (A New Heaven and a New Earth), especially as I read those who were misinterpreting Wright.

Wright’s Preterism

Like most biblical scholars today (including myself), Wright affirms what is sometimes called a “preterist” position in relation to much biblical prophecy. Preterism is related to the grammatical term “preterite,” which refers to the past tense. So a preterite understanding of prophecy would say that the prophet was speaking about events in his own context (which is now past to us) and not referring explicitly to some distant future (the way prophecy is typically taken in dispensationalism).

For example, Isaiah’s Immanuel prophecy in Isaiah 7:14 was originally addressed to the court of faithless King Ahaz, and “the young woman” who would bear a son was either the prophet’s wife (mentioned in 8:3) or a member of the royal court (I lean towards the latter; note that “the young woman” suggests he is pointing at someone). In the original context, the royal son is probably Hezekiah, who is a sign of hope for besieged Judah.

Later, Matthew applies this prophecy typologically to Jesus (Matthew 1:23), in the context of another faithless Judahite ruler, King Herod, thus drawing a significant parallel between the crisis of the eighth century and his own day, where the birth of Jesus is the new and decisive sign of Immanuel (God-with-us).

Now, Wright is famous for being a preterist when it comes to interpreting the Olivet discourse, the dire predictions of the “end” of the world that Jesus gave on the Mount of Olives (in Matthew 24, Mark 13, and Luke 21). So he interprets the signs in the heavens, including the sun and moon being darkened, the stars falling from heaven, and the powers of heaven being shaken (Matthew 24:29; Mark 13:24-25; Luke 21:25-26) as a picturesque way of referring to momentous historical events (the Roman-Jewish war and the fall of Jerusalem).

Wright often cites the Jewish historian Josephus, who used similar language to describe these events.

But Wright also has good Old Testament precedent. As chap. 6 (“The Coming of God in Judgment and Salvation”) of my new eschatology book tries to show, OT judgment theophanies use extreme language of cosmic shaking to refer to what are clearly historical/political events of the time.

In the case of the Olivet discourse, most biblical scholars also think that a preterist interpretation works for much of what Jesus says there. But Wright thinks it applies to everything Jesus says there; according to Wright, Jesus isn’t referring at all to what we usually mean by the Parousia or the Second Coming.

What About the Second Coming?

This doesn’t mean Wright thinks the Bible never refers to the climactic return of Jesus to judge the world and usher in the kingdom of God in all its fullness. Otherwise, how could he be famous for teaching a doctrine of cosmic redemption, that God’s plan is to bring about “a new heaven and a new earth”?

Well, one way would be if language about “a new heaven and a new earth” was just a picturesque way to speak about momentous historical events (as it arguably is in Isaiah 65:17-25; but not, I think, in 2 Peter 3:13 and Revelation 21:1).

And there is, indeed, one stream of preterist interpretation in contemporary evangelical theology known as full or consistent preterism that assumes that no biblical prophecies refer to the distant future; all has already been fulfilled. Thus we are already living in the new heaven and new earth (and the resurrection has already happened).

This form of preterism is an outgrowth of post-millennialism, the idea that God is at work through the church to gradually bring the world to full submission to his will—except that there is no climactic second coming here (the post in post-millennialism referred to Christ’s return after the world had reached it millennial state).

Based on his interpretation of the Olivet discourse, Wright has often been read as if he supports consistent preterism. Sometimes this reading comes from adherents of this view who want him as an ally. In other cases, he is critiqued for holding this view.

A recent critique comes from Edward Adams, who frames his important book, The Stars Will Fall from Heaven: “Cosmic Catastrophe” in the New Testament and Its World (Library of New Testament Studies 347; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2007), in terms of a disagreement with Wright on this point (pp. 12-13). Adams takes issue with Wright’s claim that language of cosmic destruction does not refer to “the end of the space-time universe” (The New Testament and the People of God [Christian Origins and the Question of God 1; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992], p. 300), but rather speaks of historical events (such as the fall of Jerusalem).

Setting the Interpretation of Wright to Rights

The problem is that Adams conflates two claims Wright makes, which are actually quite distinct.

On the one hand, when it comes to the Olivet discourse and Jesus’ parables about the returning master/king, Wright indeed thinks that the referents are historical events in the near future (the fall of Jerusalem). We can certainly quibble about that (I actually think that Jesus’ teaching here could have double referents, as I explain in my forthcoming eschatology book, chap. 9: “Cosmic Destruction at Christ’s Return?”).

On the other hand, Wright’s claim that language of cosmic destruction does not intend the ending of the space-time cosmos makes an entirely different point, namely that God intends to redeem and renew the cosmos instead of destroying it and taking us to “heaven.” (I’m fully on board here.)

Wright actually made a concerted attempt to clarify his eschatological position as far back as 1999.

In The Challenge of Jesus: Rediscovering Who Jesus Was and Is (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 1999), Wright explained that he was not denying a future cosmic coming of Christ: “Let me say this as clearly as I can (since I have often been misunderstood on this point)” (p. 117).

Although Wright indeed thinks that Jesus’ teaching in the Olivet discourse addresses immediate future judgment, and not the literal end of the world, he acknowledges that Jesus also anticipated a final cosmic redemption (for example, his mention in Matthew 19:28 of the coming “regeneration” or renewal of the world). Thus Wright states: “The belief that the creator God will at the last recreate the whole cosmos and that Jesus will be at the center of that new world is firmly and deeply rooted in the New Testament” (The Challenge of Jesus, p. 117).

This explains why Adams is confused by Wright’s interpretation of passages like Hebrews 12:26-27 and 2 Peter 3:5-13. Adams thinks that Wright is inconsistent to see these texts as referring to genuinely “cosmic change,” given his take on Wright’s “general claim” about New Testament eschatology (pp. 15-16). Adam’s perplexity surfaces especially in reference to Hebrews 12, when he twice mentions the interpretation “we might have expected” Wright to have (pp. 192–93).

The long and short of it is that Wright’s view of the local referents of the Olivet discourse should not be generalized into his overall eschatological position. Whether or not he himself would call it the “Second Coming,” Tom Wright clearly does believe in a future cosmic renewal of all things.

I’d call that the Second Coming.

What’s Dualism Got to Do with It? The Tom Wright Connection, Part 4

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This is part 4 of a four-part post on my connections to N. T. Wright, the prolific New Testament scholar. For part 1, click here. For part 2, click here. For part 3, click here.

What’s Dualism Got to Do with It?

Although I’ve mentioned various two-way influences between Wright and Walsh-Middleton, the connection goes even deeper, and it begins back in 1983. This was when Wright was working on his first book, a commentary on Colossians and Philemon for the Tyndale series (published in 1988).

Wright was writing the Colossians material when Brian Walsh first got to know him at McGill. Based on their friendship, the two would meet regularly to discuss what Wright had written, and Brian would give feedback and critique.

As Brian tells it, he kept challenging the sacred/secular dualism with which Wright was reading Colossians. Wright kept separating salvation in Christ from life in the mundane realm (including the political realm). But according to Colossians 1:15-20, the same Christ through whom all things were created, and in whom all things hang together, is the one whom all things are reconciled. The creator and redeemer are one.

So Walsh and Wright did regular Bible study in Colossians together during the time when Walsh and I were completing our work on The Transforming Vision. And our critique of otherworldly dualism and our framing of salvation as God’s redemption of earthly life managed to impact Wright’s reading of Colossians.

Wright’s own account of how he came to shift from a dualistic worldview to a holistic vision is recounted in his autobiographical essay “My Pilgrimage in Theology,” Themelios, 18/2 (January 1993): 35. There Wright states:

In 1983 I started work on my Colossians commentary. By the time I finished it in 1985 I had undergone probably the most significant change of my theological life. Until then I had been basically, a dualist. The gospel belonged in one sphere, the world of creation and politics in another. Wrestling with Colossians 1:15-20 put paid to that. I am still working through the implications (and the resultant hostility in some quarters): my book New Tasks for a Renewed Church is a recent marker on this route.

Although this article doesn’t mention Brian’s role in the shift, Wright thanks Brian for his contribution at the start of the Tyndale commentary (p. 11).

Now, I’m not going to claim that Tom Wright got his emphasis on the redemption of creation from Walsh and Middleton in any simple or direct sense. But it looks like our early work on worldviews, dualism, and holistic salvation served as a catalyst for Wright at a formative phase of his theological development. At the very least, our work enabled Wright to see what was staring him in the face all along in the text of Colossians.

I started this four-part post with a comment about the similarity between Tom Wright and myself on the eschatological redemption of creation, a point that many have noted. I’ve tried to explain how that similarity may have come about. It is gratifying to think that the early work Brian Walsh and I did on holistic salvation may have made some small contribution to the development of Tom Wright’s powerful and illuminating eschatological vision.

In another post I explore ways in which I’m not quite on board with all of Tom Wright’s eschatology.

You can read about my 2017 visit with Tom Wright at St. Andrews in Scotland here.