Tag: New Testament

Machen Death Day 2024

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The year of living Machenly prompted much attention from this writer to Machen’s training as a classicist prior to becoming a scholar of the New Testament. One instance of his serious reflection on the differences between pagan myths of gods begetting humans and the birth narratives of the New Testament came in his book, The Virgin Birth of Christ (1931). One important difference was lust. Another was polytheism:

In the pagan stories of divine begetting, polytheism is not merely incidental; it is the centre and core of the whole complex of ideas. But in the New Testament story of the virgin birth of Christ, the lofty Old Testament monotheism is abated not a whit; the awful transcendence of God, the awful separateness of God from the world, is never lost from view. Where in the New Testament story is there found any hint of a love of God for the maid of Nazareth, which could be analogous to the love of a husband for his wife? The question can scarcely even be asked, by any man of literary taste—-to say nothing of any devout Christian—without a shudder. Yet it would have not only to be asked, but also to be answered in the affirmative, if the theory with which we are now dealing were correct. The love of the gods for mortal women is the very point of the pagan stories—the thing without which they could not possibly exist. To mention any such thing in connection with the narratives in Matthew and Luke is to do violence to the whole spirit of those narratives. The truth is that when we read these narratives we are in a totally different world from that which produced the pagan stories of the loves and hates of the gods.

Professional Historians Don’t Do Religion

Published on by D. G. Hart4 Comments

That is one way to explain why the editors of the American Historical Review, the flagship journal for professional historians in the United States published by the American Historical Association, let Randall Balmer, a long time student of American evangelicalism, open his book review of Darren E. Grem, The Blessings of Business — when will this sentence end!?! — this way:

On the face of it, the evangelical embrace of capitalism and free enterprise should be a tough sell. Jesus himself warned that rich men face long odds against entering the kingdom of heaven and that it is impossible to serve both God and Mammon. First-century Christians, as recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, held goods in common, a nascent form of socialism. So how is it that many contemporary evangelicals who trumpet their fidelity to the Bible have become such ardent evangelists for affluence and free-market capitalism? How could Jerry Falwell plausibly argue that “God is in favor of freedom, property, diligence, work, and acquisition”? (AHR, June 2017)

Does this mean that the AHA favors socialism even though it requires members to pay upwards of $200 to attend annual conferences where hotel rooms often go for at least $150 per night? Are we supposed to believe that in a socialist world the workers would unite to underwrite historians gathering annually to hear and present papers, meet with editors, and wine and dine with old colleagues?

Or could it be that Balmer thinks the Bible, which talks about the sin of stealing in pretty big letters, favors “a nascent form of socialism,” one without Gulags or walled cities?

And how is it that Balmer, historian of the United States, is such an expert about religion and society in first-century Palestine? “On the face of it” is not the kind of intellectual muscle needed to master the kinds of research techniques that antiquity requires.

And does Balmer actually believe that Jesus is opposed to property but favors freedom, especially liberty for consenting adults to experience sexual pleasure?

My sense is that the editors understood they had no dog in this hunt — the evangelical left versus the evangelical right — and let Balmer take his swipes.

I do wonder though how Balmer gets up in the morning and goes to lecture in classrooms at Dartmouth College, an institution which boasts an endowment of $4.5 BILLION (according to Google). That, my friends, is a lot of property that resulted from a lot of acquisition. Does Balmer ever trumpet Jesus’ teaching about rich men and serving Mammon with Dartmouth’s administration?

Machen Day 2015

Published on by D. G. Hart6 Comments

From “History and Faith“:

Suppose the critical sifting of the Gospel tradition has been accomplished, suppose the resulting picture of Jesus is comprehensible-even then the work is only half done. How did this human Jesus come to be regarded as a superhuman Jesus by his intimate friends, and how, upon the foundation of this strange belief was there reared the edifice of the Christian Church?

In the early part of the first century, in one of the petty principalities subject to Rome, there lived an interesting man. Until the age of thirty years he led an obscure life in a Galilean family, then began a course of religious and ethical teaching accompanied by a remarkable ministry of healing. At first his preaching was crowned with a measure of success, but soon the crowds deserted him, and after three or four years, he fell victim in Jerusalem to the jealousy of his countrymen and the cowardice of the Roman governor. His few faithful disciples were utterly disheartened; his shameful death was the end of all their high ambitions. After a few days, however, an astonishing thing happened. It is the most astonishing thing in all history. Those same disheartened men suddenly displayed a surprising activity. They began preaching, with remarkable success, in Jerusalem, the very scene of their disgrace. In a few years, the religion that they preached burst the bands of Judaism, and planted itself in the great centers of the Graeco-Roman world. At first despised, then persecuted, it overcame all obstacles; in less than three hundred years it became the dominant religion of the Empire; and it has exerted an incalculable influence upon the modern world.

Jesus himself, the Founder, had not succeeded in winning any considerable number of permanent adherents; during his lifetime, the genuine disciples were comparatively few. It is after his death that the origin of Christianity as an influential movement is to be placed. Now it seems exceedingly unnatural that Jesus’ disciples could thus accomplish what he had failed to accomplish. They were evidently far inferior to him in spiritual discernment and in courage; they had not displayed the slightest trace of originality; they had been abjectly dependent upon the Master; they had not even succeeded in understanding him. Furthermore, what little understanding, what little courage they may have had was dissipated by his death. “Smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered.” How could such men succeed where their Master had failed? How could they institute the mightiest religious movement in the history of the world?

Of course, you can amuse yourself by suggesting impossible hypotheses. You might suggest, for instance, that after the death of Jesus his disciples sat quietly down and reflected on his teaching. “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.” “Love your enemies.” These are pretty good principles; they are of permanent value. Are they not as good now, the disciples might have said, as they were when Jesus was alive? “Our Father which art in heaven.” Is not that a good way of addressing God? May not God be our Father even though Jesus is now dead?

The disciples might conceivably have come to such conclusions. But certainly nothing could be more unlikely. These men had not even understood the teachings of Jesus when he was alive, not even under the immediate impact of that tremendous personality. How much less would they understand after he had died, and died in a way that indicated hopeless failure! What hope could such men have, at such a time, of influencing the world? Furthermore, the hypothesis has not one jot of evidence in its favor. Christianity never was the continuation of the work of a dead teacher.

It is evident, therefore, that in the short interval between the death of Jesus and the first Christian preaching, something had happened. Something must have happened to explain the transformation of those weak, discouraged men into the spiritual conquerors of the world. Whatever that happening was, it is the greatest event in history. An event is measured by its consequences-and that event has transformed the world.

It wasn’t the Bishop of Rome.

Submit or Suppress?

Published on by D. G. Hart80 Comments

Despite the modern Reformed churches’ rejection of older confessional views about the responsibility of the magistrate for true religion in the realm, apparently the idea of a ruler who can crack down on idolatry and suppress heresy still appeals, at least if some of the comments at blogs are an indication.

I think I understand the appeal, at least in part, because the idea seems to be part of a desire for the state to impose law and order on a lawless and chaotic society. What I don’t understand is the biblical basis for this appeal. Yes, the Old Testament will supply you with all the theonomic ammunition you need to execute heretics and banish blasphemers. And if you start to use the OT why only the parts about suppression of idolatry and not the bits about goats and bulls? But does the example of Christ and the apostles bear such law-and-order fruit?

When Jesus addressed rulers, did he remind them of their ordained responsibility to suppress unbelief? In Luke 23, for instance, Jesus had a chance to go into an Al Pacino, “no-judge-you’re-out-of order”-like rage but refused the opportunity. He simply responded to Pilate’s questions in such a way that the governor declared Jesus innocent. Did Jesus not care about the slaughter of the innocents or the idolatry and blasphemy that was rampant in the Roman Empire? If he did, he chose another means of expressing that concern other than reminding the magistrate of his duty to enforce the Ten Commandments.

Of course, Jesus had more important work to do than to clean up society so maybe this is not the best example. But when Paul was on trial and he had another chance for a showdown with the tolerant and iniquitous Roman authorities, he followed the example of his Lord. In Acts 24 when Paul appeared before Felix, Paul defended his own actions and words. He did also discourse “on righteousness, self-control and the judgment to come,” but if he spoke on the need to suppress heresy Luke sure had a funny way of reporting it. What is more likely is that Paul addressed Felix about his own spiritual condition, not about his irresponsibility as a magistrate appointed to uphold God’s law.

At the same time, when the New Testament writers addressed the subject of the magistrate, they always told believers to submit. Paul does so obviously in Romans 13 and also in 1 Timothy 2, and Peter echoes Paul in his epistles.

So if the Baylys are right about the duty of Christians to speak out against the atrocities of a corrupt state, the New Testament is of no help. And since Reformed Christians need a biblical warrant to bind believers to certain conduct or words, the silence of Christ and the apostles and the magistrate’s religious duties is deafening.