Tag Archives: Genesis

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.

Was Abraham’s Attempt to Sacrifice Isaac a Faithful Response to God?

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In my last post I mentioned that I had just attended the 2014 Congress of Humanities and Social Sciences, at Brock University, in St. Catharines, ON, Canada.

One of the academic societies I participated in was the Canadian Society of Biblical Studies, where I presented a paper on Genesis 22, known in Jewish tradition as the Aqedah or “binding” of Isaac (Abraham “bound” [‘aqad] Isaac and placed him on the altar; Gen 22:9). I titled my paper (somewhat ironically): “Unbinding the Aqedah from the Straightjacket of Tradition.”

The gist of my paper was that contrary to traditional readings in both Judaism and Christianity, we should not understand Abraham’s response as a paradigm of virtue. Rather, I argued that Abraham’s response of blind obedience to the command to sacrifice his son was sub-par. It was better than outright disobedience. But a truly faithful response would have been to follow the example of the lament psalms (and Job) by questioning God, even protesting that this command wasn’t right.

Central to my argument was the fact that Abraham had previously (in Gen 18) protested the possibility that God might destroy Sodom, despite the fact that there were righteous/innocent people living there (the Hebrew word tsadîq can mean either). Whereas Abraham’s motive for that protest was the fact that his nephew Lot and his family were living in Sodom, it is strange that when God tells him to offer up his own son as a burnt offering, Abraham’s silence is deafening. He says nothing whatsoever (he certainly does not protest the death of this innocent victim), but blindly moves to obey—and has to be stopped in the act by an angel calling from heaven: “Abraham, Abraham! . . . don’t do anything to the boy!”

It is also significant that the text reports that Abraham returned to his servants and that they went off together, but that Isaac is not mentioned at the end of the story (Gen 22:19). Also significant is that Isaac is then reported as living in a different geographical location from Abraham (and Sarah is living elsewhere, by the way), and father and son never again see each other. This is why the subtitle of my paper was: “How Abraham Lost His Son.”

In the end, I argue that the test (“God tested Abraham”; Gen 22:1) was not whether Abraham would obey. Rather, what was being tested was Abraham’s discernment of the character of God. Was this a God of mercy or a deity just like one of the other ancient Near Eastern gods who required child sacrifice?

Well, there’s a lot more to be said (and the paper says more, and even recognizes the arguments against this interpretation). But this should give you the gist of what I presented. I am presently expanding the paper and preparing it for publication.

What’s your response to this interpretation of Genesis 22? Do you find it jarring? Or does it resonate with you? Why?

Creation to Eschaton—And the Kitchen Sink?

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You may be wondering about the title I’ve chosen for this website, “Creation to Eschaton.” Or, to put it in ordinary English, “Beginning to End.” What sort of topics will I cover with an expansive title like that?

Woody Allen commented ironically that the philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre once wrote a book about everything, called Being and Nothingness. You can’t get more comprehensive than that, he noted.

Well, I won’t be quite as comprehensive as Sartre, though my interests are pretty broad. The title I’ve given this website indicates that I’m interested particularly in theological matters of origins and endings. But I’m also interested in what comes in-between.

In the course of giving a heads-up about what sorts of topics you can expect in this blog in the weeks ahead (I expect to post about once a week), I thought I’d take the opportunity to first look back. What unites the diverse topics I’ve covered in my past research and writing? This is a question I’m often asked.

Unlike some biblical scholars who focus on one particular block of material (such as the Johannine literature, the Pauline epistles, the Pentatuch, or the Book of the Twelve), I seem to have dipped into Scripture at multiple points (and I’ve often gone beyond biblical studies per se, into theology and cultural analysis).

So I’ll try and clarify the rationale for what I’ve been doing.

Then I’ll look ahead.

Creation Theology

Much of my previous work has explored biblical creation theology, including a book on humanity created as the image of God (The Liberating Image), which is dependent on an earlier article of the same title.

Creation theology is also central to essays I’ve written on:

In all cases I’ve been interested in the ethics associated with creation theology. How might understanding God’s original intent for the world direct us to live in the present? This emphasis is found in pretty much everything I’ve written on the topic of creation, but it’s the explicit focus of a short entry on the “Image of God” that I wrote for the Baker Dictionary of Scripture and Ethics.

Eschatology

In theology, attention to endings is typically known as “eschatology” (eschaton is Greek for “end”). In contrast to creation, I’ve written only one article focused on this topic (“A New Heaven and a New Earth”), which has since become the basis of a book with the same title.

But like creation, my exploration of eschatology is driven by an ethical passion. How might understanding God’s telos or goal for the world shape our lives today?

In Scripture, the beginning corresponds to the end, a motif that German theologians have called Urzeit and Endzeit. Thus the eschaton is God’s new (redeemed) creation; it is the fruition of the Creator’s purposes from the beginning, after evil has been overcome.

Creation-to-Eschaton as a Normative Framework

I have found that the narrative arc from creation to eschaton (the biblical metanarrative or macro story) provides crucial orientation for approaching the manifold complexity of particular texts in Scripture (especially problematic texts). And by framing the meaning of human life in the present, the macro story of Scripture provides guidance for thinking about, and living in, the contemporary world.

This creation-to-eschaton framework (the biblical worldview) is central to the first book I coauthored with Brian Walsh—The Transforming Vision, though the narrative character of this worldview wasn’t fully clear to us at the time.

The narrative character of the biblical worldview became more explicit in the later book I wrote with Walsh—Truth Is Stranger Than It Used to Be (an attempt to contextualize biblical faith in postmodern culture)—and it is central to our stand-alone essay that articulates the core argument of that book.

The creation-to-eschaton framework is especially prominent in my forthcoming A New Heaven and a New Earth, which has a section explicitly entitled “From Creation to Eschaton.”

But, in one way or another, this framework grounds almost everything I’ve written. It would be tedious to list each case, but a recent example is the article I coauthored with Michael Gorman on “Salvation” for the New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible.

Evil and Suffering

My interest in the ethical implications of creation and eschaton (God’s purposes for the cosmos) has led me to reflect on the problem of evil and suffering—both in human life and in the Bible. Undoubtedly, my own life experience has lent an existential edge to these reflections.

Awareness of evil and suffering is most explicit in an essay in which I contrasted approaches to theodicy (the problem of evil) in the western theological tradition and in Scripture.

A focus on suffering is evident in an essay on Canadian singer/songwriter Bruce Cockburn that Brian Walsh and I wrote, and it motivated my proposal for moving beyond a naive reading of Psalm 23 (through interaction with a Cockburn song).

The awareness of evil shaped my analysis of violence in the David and Goliath story and the abuse of power in the narrative of Samuel’s relationship to Saul; both essays anticipate a book for Eerdmans on 1 Samuel plan to work on in the future, where the focus is on human responsibility.

Concern with evil and suffering is also the basis of some shorter pieces I’ve written—on Herod in the Christmas story, on the lament psalms, and on “Violence” (for the New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible). And it guides my interest in working on a new book (which is now complete) on Abraham and Job.

Caribbean Theology

One other area of interest that deserves mention is the Caribbean. I grew up in Jamaica and did my undergraduate theological studies there. In the years since, I have continued to visit family and friends and kept professional connections with Jamaica Theological Seminary (my alma mater) and the Caribbean Graduate School of Theology.

My Jamaican heritage has motivated me to explore theology from and for the Caribbean. Thus I’ve written on a spirituality of cultural resistance in the music of Bob Marley and the Wailers, and I’ve advocated the need for creation theology in Caribbean life; the latter essay appears in an anthology of works by Caribbean scholars that I edited with Garnett Roper, on behalf of Jamaica Theological Seminary.

Looking Ahead

I plan on continuing to explore topics in creation theology and eschatology and much that is in-between.

Look for blog posts on the nature of the world as a cosmic temple, on creation themes in Isaiah, and new light on humans as the image of God—especially what I’ve learned since my 2005 book on the subject.

I plan to post on various topics associated with my new book on eschatology, including:

  • why holistic eschatology (the renewal of the earth) is important for the church;
  • the meaning of “heaven” in Scripture;
  • New Testament texts that seem to contradict the renewal of the earth;
  • what the Bible intends by its description of cosmic catastrophe (including stars falling from heaven);
  • and the loss and recovery of the idea of the “new earth” in the history of Christian thinking about eschatology.

I hope to post my thoughts on various topics connected to the interpretation of Scripture, such as:

  • why I love (and hate) theological interpretation of Scripture;
  • my understanding of Abraham as morally deficient in Genesis 22;
  • the possibility that the book of Job might be an answer to Abraham;
  • the meaning of Sabbath beyond the sacred/secular split;
  • and my assumptions for studying and teaching the Bible.

Other topics I may post on include:

  • why I am neither conservative nor liberal (and loving it);
  • the best way to read an academic book;
  • and the most important questions I’ve learned to ask in my intellectual journey.

Also expect to see my responses to various articles and books I’m reading in biblical studies and theology, including works by Caribbean authors.

And one more thing—which might be just a little bit controversial (for some).

I recently joined a three-year interdisciplinary research project with nine other Christian scholars, focusing on the relationship of the evolutionary origins of humanity to the doctrine of the fall and original sin. We plan to produce a conference, then a book, on the subject.

Given that the entire research team is a bunch of orthodox, trinitatian, Nicean Christians who take both science and the Bible seriously, we’re approaching the topic in humility, but without fear.

As the only Old Testament scholar on the project, I expect to post some of my thoughts on Genesis 3 in light of hominin evolution and the origin of Homo sapiens sapiens. These posts are meant to be exploratory, preliminary to writing an extended essay on the topic.

And the kitchen sink?

Thankfully, I’ll leave that out.