The World's Wisdom and God's Folly

This is a relief of a piece of ancient Roman graffiti mocking the Christian's devotion to a crucified God. It reads, "Alexamenos worships his god." The god is here depicted as a jackass. "We preach Christ crucified...foolishness to Gentiles."


In 1Corinthians 1:18-2:5, Paul makes the case against his critics in Corinth (as well as his “fans,” who have too closely attached themselves to his ministry, 1:12-16) for preaching an ‘elementary’ gospel, stripped of any of the intellectual trappings of philosophical sophistication, rhetorical deftness, and polished speech (1Co.2:1-4; cf. 2Co.10:10; 11:16) - all designed to impress…all designed to persuade by appealing to, and thereby affriming, the world’s pretense of knowledge and power. Paul states that such preaching would in fact make the message of the cross “void,” emptied of its power.

Why?

He gives two reasons, essentially. First, God has exposed the wisdom and power of the world as folly and, therefore, as weakness. God's wisdom and power, unveiled in the cross, has undermined the world's. To appeal to it, therefore, would be backward and, ultimately, at odds with the divine power of the cross.

Sir Francis Bacon famously wrote that knowledge is power. But Frederich Nietzsche profoundly altered the innocent connection between the two by asserting that all “knowledge” is in fact the construct of power. Truth claims, he argued, are power-plays, promoting those who advance these claims, while marginalizing those who oppose them, or otherwise fall outside the scope of their interest. Thus “knowledge is power” takes on a new, darker nuance. Michel Foucault, following Nietzsche’s geneaology of morals, etc., not only sought to betray the social construction of Western ‘normativity’ in various arenas, but ‘deconstructed’ them as arbitrary, and ultimately, as strategies of power, self-serving (‘self’ here refers, by and large, to the bourgeois middle class). Of course, his own agenda, as the “archaelogist of knowledge,” was equally self-serving - what else could it be?

God is the utlimate deconstructor of human wisdom, knowledge and power. And his agenda, unlike ours, is both self-serving and just. It is just, as John Piper has well argued in numerous places, precisely because it is God-serving - serving the purposes and ends of omnibenevolence in righteousness and truth. But this ‘truism’ hits home when we understand, through the message of the cross, that at the center of God’s self-serving agenda against and for the world stands the divine self-giving of Christ crucified.

What do we mean when we say that God has deconstructed the world in its wisdom and power? We mean that He has exposed it’s failure, in judgment, and condemned it, all at once in the 'apocalyptic' revelation of the mystery of God (cf. 2:1,7). Namely, God was well-pleased to show up its pretention through the foolishness and weakness of the gospel. “For since in God’s wisdom the world through its wisdom did not come to know God, it pleased God through the folly of what was preached to save those who believe.” It is God’s wisdom that the world, in its wisdom, should fail to come to a true knowledge of God. Why? Simply this: so that no man might boast (1:29, 31).

Not only is the incomprehensible and invisible God known only through His sovereign self-disclosure, but, even given this, sinful man cannot come to know God through the lens of his loaded, epistemic constructs - driven, as they are, by his own “will to power.” God will not be found by the self-seeking. More than that, fallen man’s wisdom is grounded in a godless hubris; in his pretentious wisdom and power, he exalts himself! If a sinner found God through his own wisdom, we might never hear the end of it. Hence, God is not only inscrutible to the proud, by the very nature of His holiness, but, morally, volitionally, as ruler and judge, refuses them this boast.

That’s why. But how?

Specifically, God exposes the world’s failure in publically presenting a crucified Messiah to the world, only to to be rejected. The Jew rejects it as the “anti-miracle,” to borrow from Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase, and the Greek rejects it as utter non-sense. So the world, as represented by the ‘wise’ and ‘powerful’, has rejected the very wisdom and power of God, and thereby shown itself entirely foolish and (morally) incompetent. God's folly deconstructs the world's wisdom. (In other words, God clearly presented the truth in a way which did NOT appeal to the world’s values - for its values were morally corrupt and self-absorbed - and thus, through their condemnation of the Truth, damned the world’s system of evaluation.)

Surely the wisdom of the Jewish scribes was exposed in their rejection of the long-awaited Messiah, to whom all the Scriptures had pointed. So much for their biblical expertise and wisdom! Surely the power the Saduccees, Herodians and Romans wielded in arresting, condemning and executing the Lord of glory was unveiled as not only child’s play, but as britches far too big for their slender frame, by the resurrection of the sovereign Christ. So much for the imposing power of the rulers of this age! Even as we speak, their authority evaporates (2:6).

And this continues, of course, in Paul’s ministry, as both Jew and Gentile reject Paul’s gospel as foolish, as weakness - as the detestable stench of death (2Co.2:14-16 1Co.1:18). It continues to this day, whenever the world rejects Jesus, while standing on the ground of its own wisdom and power. God has already pulled the rug out - and in rejecting the gospel, they come crashing down upon the same, hard ground. As it was written, they have stumbled over the stumbling block, the stone of offense, which God has placed in Israel. How the mighty have fallen!

“Where is the sage? Where is the scribe? Where’s the critic of this age?” God has made them obselete through the cross. He has nullified them once and for all; and that in which they gloried is now shown to be their shame. God has shot through the world’s show of wisdom and power with its own gun - or in this case, its own gibbet, and put it on display for all to see: Here hangs the wisdom and power of this age!

To apply this to our ‘postmodern’ context, we might add, “Where is the tolerant inclusivist of our age?” Has not God shown up our pretense of tolerance and inclusion? For the world, in all of its talk of inclusivity, still excludes Jesus (on His own terms)! The world excludes its maker, its sustainer and redeemer! In its violent intolerance of God’s Word, the very light of the world - marginalizing God's truth in Christ, and seeking (in vain) to extinguish His brilliance (Jn.1:5) - God has uncovered the hypocrisy, bankruptcy and tragic failure of its inclusive rhetoric. And, as men, women, and children from every tribe, language, people-group and religion come to Christ, God’s exclusivity is proved daily more inclusive than all the world’s inclusivity!

As Christians we shouldn’t be postmodern, but post-‘flesh’, post-history, post-everything this side of heaven. We ought rather to be sages, scribes and scholars of the age to come.

To then preach in such a way as to appeal to the world’s pretense of knowledge and power is to employ a strategy deconstructed by the gospel itself. More than that, it is to frame the cross, which signifies the world’s judgment, as though it were its reward. The medium violently contradicts the message.

The world, with its rhetoric, manipulates with selfish or political intent. The preacher of the gospel, however, rather than impress and manipulate according to his own agenda, ought to align himself with God's agenda (requiring repentance), with the self-emptying gospel he proclaims (requiring love) - speaking plainly, sincerely, even pouring out his life for his hearers, and so, like the apostle, embodying the self-giving of Christ crucified (cf. 1Co.4:9-13; 2Co.4:7-16).


The second reason Paul articulates is that, if we do persuade our audience through appeal to the world’s values, rather than to the cross alone, than the confidence in the power of Christ crucified is eroded. We feel our conversion might rest on man’s wisdom, rather than God’s (2:5).

Human arrogance is so pernicious and pervasive, that even the newly born Christian is tempted to boast that their new-found faith - their newly acquired spiritual understanding and power - is somehow to their credit. As though we who believe do so because we had a superior knowledge or strength! But Paul makes plain that it is the power of the cross, at work as God Himself calls us into fellowship with His Son (1:30-31; 1:9), which is the source of our new life. Paul here reminds the very status-conscious Corinthians of their unimpressive past - their not-so-glorious former ‘group identities’ (1:26-29) - in underlining God’s sovereignty and goodness in calling them, as part of the divine undermining of the world’s values (transvaluation). Their salvation rests neither on the brilliance of the preacher, nor upon their own brilliance in discerning it (if anything, quite despite it), but upon the cross of a crucified Messiah - the foolishness and weakness of God!

And this basis is infinitely more superior than grounding our confidence in our own wisdom or power. As Paul states, God’s foolishness is greater than any man’s wisdom, and His weakness is stronger than any man’s power. It is this dumb and servile Christ who establishes our confidence of faith, and our new status in Him (1:30b); it is in this Jesus that we boast! And all the world shall never hear the end of it!

Corporate Worshp and Being 'Missional'

Many of the pundits on the so-called "missional church" belittle corporate worship on Sunday as a cultural relic of ancient Christendom (a dirty word not only among the anabaptist heirs of the "radical reformation," but now among all the new, self-styled 'radicals'). It is a tradition, we are told, that now serves as a distraction and even a hindrance to the mission. It ought to be bypassed for alternative gatherings and communal expressions, if for no other reason than to deconstruct the Christendom "congregational model" that so dominates our thinking, and break the old mold to create space for "new possibilities."

Of course, there is a great (if obvious) point in their criticisms about the contemporary church, which has in most cases become entirely consumed with the show business of Sunday morning. The church is indeed neiher a building, nor an event which takes place on Sunday mornings. The church is people, who gather together and scatter for the sake of God's mission in the world, as those who corporately and individually both receive and extend His reconciling grace. Having said that, the rejection or marginalization of public worship as a crucial element to the life and mission of the people of God is both short-sighted and all too American in its reductionism and thoroughgoing pragmatism. On this point, Eugene Peterson writes (quoting Spurgeon),

We live in a pragmatic age and are reluctant to do anything if its practical usefulness cannot be demonstrated. It is inevitable that we ask regarding worship, it is worth it? Can you justify the time and energy and expense involved in gathering Christians togheter in worship? Well, "Look at the mower in the summer's day, with so much to down before the sun sets. He pauses in his labor - is he a sluggard? He looks for his stone, and begins to draw it up and down his scythe, with rink-atink, rink-atink, rink-atink. Is that idle music - is he wasting prescious moments? How much he might have mowed while he has been riging out those notes on his scythe! But he is sharpening his tool, and he will do far more when once again he gives his strength to those long sweeps which lay the grass prostrate in rows before him."

Yes, But What About Psalm 137?

In addressing C.S. Lewis' comments about the imprecatory psalms, we dealt primarily with generalizations. But the comment about bashing in the heads of Babylonian infants in Psalm 137:9 demands our attention.

First of all, we should note again that the psalmist's maledictions are never merely personal. The psalmist in 137 is bemoaning the injustices committed against Israel by Edom and Babylon. The historical context is most likely the fall of Jerusalem at the hands of the Babylonians in the early 6th century BC, during which time the Edomites availed themselves of Judah's weakened condition and further violated its citizens - their distant cousins. The prophecy of Obadiah is directed against Edom for this particularly heinous atrocity and callous aggression (cf. Jer.49:7-22; Isa.34:5-17). You'll note the similarlity between these prophetic declarations and the psalmist's prayer. Obadiah, for instance, declares, "As you have done, it will be done to you; your deeds will return upon your own head." The Psalmist in 137, now in reference to Babylon (cf. Hab.2:4-20; Jer.50-51; Isa.13; 21:1-10; 47), writes, "happy is he who repays you for what you have done to us," v.8. If in this the psalmist is accussed of sin, let it be acknowledged that it is because he celebrates the justice of God in His righteous judgment against the cruel destroyer. And v.9, of course, must be read in its immediate context. It is applying and particularizing the principle articulated v.8. As they have dashed our children to the ground, so let the avenger (who, as it turns out, will be the Medo-Persians) dash their infants!

It was a common, grisly practice in ancient warfare (see 2Ki.8:12; Hos.10:14; 13:16; Nah.3:10; Lk.19:44). Sadly, it is not unknown in modern times either; during WWII at Bromberg, it was observed that the S.S. would "take the Jewish children by their feet and break their heads by striking them against the wall..."

In fact, it is prophesied by Isaiah that such fate would fall upon the Babylonians themselves, who committed such violence:

Their infants will be dashed to pieces before their eyes; their houses will be looted and their wives ravished. See, I will stir up against them the Medes, who do not care for silver and have no delight in gold. Their bows will strike down the young men; they will have no mercy on infants nor will they look with compassion on children. Babylon, the jewel of kingdoms, the glory of the Babylonians' pride, will be overthrown by God like Sodom and Gomorrah.

As they have done to others, so it will be done to them. And again, it would appear that the psalmist in 137 is celebrating or anticipating God's coming justice against the Babylonians - gruesome as it is! This makes us uncomfortable. Can we really celebrate such brutal justice? But here we might recall (again) that heaven itself calls the church to similarly celebrate the terrible retribution that falls against "Babylon the Great," the violent oppressor of the saints, in Revelation 18:1-19:3. Justice will have been thereby established on the earth.

Justice here does not necessarily pertain to the question of the relative guilt or innocence of the infants. In Scripture it is assumed that infants are not morally culpable agents (e.g., Isa.7:16). Rather, this judgment is conceived as coming against the Babylonian aggressors. We might note that God has destroyed the life of infants elsewhere in judgment directed against the parents, most famously in the case of David (2Sam.12:13-15). We might also note the death of the firstborn in Egypt by God's mysterious agent, "the Destroyer," as judgment against Pharaoh's obstinance.

Of course, as Scripture makes clear, the sons are not imputed with their father's guilt, nor vice versa (Ez.18:20). So the children are not considered guilty for their father's atrocities. However, the scriptures also say: "[God] does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children and their children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation." In other words, there are divinely instituted consequences for sins which affect generations (though God here sets limits on their impact, by His mercy, whereas His grace abounds to thousands of generations). My sin and its detrimental impact cannot be neatly confined to my own life. So, the infant in David's case is not held as culpable for his father's sins, but he is to some extent punished for them. More directly, David is punished through his child's illness and death.

Even so, it is asked, how is this fair? Here we must go back to the biblical framework for human history: creation and fall. The wages of sin is death, and so all die because, in Adam, "all sinned," even those who did not sin by actually breaking the commandment (Rom.5:12-14). Throughout the course of our lives, our actual transgressions bear witness against us concerning our damnable condition. But we are under curse from the moment we're conceived. As David wrote, "Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me," Ps.51:5. It is the tragic reality of "Adam's helpless race." And as a result, "in Adam, all die," (1Co.15:22). The judgment that befell us in our forefather was death - a death graciously prolonged in the case of many, allowing some of us an entire life-time in God's patience and grace. Nevertheless the whole human race is on death row. No one gets out of here alive. Moreover, none of us can demand that we are given first breath upon birth - not to mention God's continual care for us within the womb (e.g., Ps.139:13-14). We live by mercy alone, and we will die by justice.

All this to say that it is not unjust for God to bring the infant's life to an end, according to his purposes in judgment and providence, any more so than bringing the octogenarian's life to an end in a tragic car accident.

Lastly, we must be careful to maintain the distinctions Scripture maintains. If it is in fact just that the evil that I have perpetrated against others be exacted against me (in one form or another), it is not necessarily just for someone to enact it. When the Medes came against Babylon, and dashed their infants' heads against the ground, though they unwittingly carried out God's judgment against the Babylonians, they themselves acted wickedly - just as the Babylonian's and Assyrian's violence against the infants of Israel and Judah were, in and of themselves, unjust, and yet the vehicle of God's just judgment against His own people (e.g., Hos.13:16). Once again, the cross stands as the ultimate illustration of this principle. Jesus' unjust condemnation and crucifixion - for which those agents who were responsible are held culpable by God - was in fact the foreordained means (e.g, Ac.2:23; 4:27-28) of God's righteous accomplishment of His saving purposes (Ro.3:25-26).

Moreover, even if the retributive principle can be justly applied by the hands of men, it obviously does not follow that I am the one to enact it. Lex talionis was established not to justify revenge or excerbate violence through endless retaliation, but rather to delimit retribution in Israel's courts, and to undercut personal vengenence. God alone is the avenger in Scripture, and we look ultimately to him to establish justice for us.

In summary, we cannot read Psalm 137:9 as a justification for infanticide. But we would do well, in response to this psalm and others like it, to remember that it is a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God. It is always wrong to take human life without justifiable cause. But God has justifiable cause against us! And as the Judge, He sovereignly determines how justice will be executed. This ought to humble us, and yield repentance. Rather than assigning blame, or seeking (in vain) to unravel God's myterious providence, Jesus tells us in light of similar tragedies, "unless you repent, you too will all perish," (Lk.13:1-5).

C.S. Lewis on the Imprecatory Psalms, Pt III

Before I proceed to the third and final 'installment' on this question, addressing (ever so briefly) the messianic character of the Psalter and the New Testament's usage of the imprecatory psalms in particular, I feel I should make one more comment about retribution and love.

There's a saying so axiomatic among Christian circles that you might mistake it for a Bible verse: "God hates the sin, but loves the sinner." Lewis argues along these lines in pp.32-33, stating that God has the same "implacable hostility which these poets express," yet, His hostility is "not to the sinner but to the sin." While the psalmists erroneously conflated their hatred of evil with the evildoer, Lewis argues, God does not.

Or doesn't He? According to Psalm 5:4-6,

"For you are not a God who delights in wickedness; evil may not dwell with you. The boastful will not stand before your eyes; you hate all evildoers. You destroy those who speak lies; the Lord abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful man." Cf. Ps.11:5

It is even said that God "hates" Israel, his own covenant people, in their obstinate disobedience (Jer.12:8; Hos.9:15).

For the sake of time and space, I don't want to get into the question of what exactly Scripture means by "hate" (cf. Mal.1:3; Lk.14:26; Mt.6:24), and what it could mean that God "hates" those whom he also, in some real sense, loves (Mt.5:43-48). It is unquestionably the case that God has a holy hostility, not merely towards sin per se - as though it existed in isolation from culpable, moral agents - but against the sinner. It is, after all, extremely difficult to extricate "the lying tongue," or "hands that shed innocent blood," or "haughty eyes," or "a heart that devises evil," etc., from the owners (Prov.6:16-18, 19). Nevertheless, it is also clear that God loves the objects of His wrath(e.g., Jn.3:16, 18, 36; Eph.2:3-4; 2Co.5:18-20; Rom.5:10)! It is enough now to simply observe that God both hates and loves sinners in ways that are not mutually exclusive.

As a result, one has a difficult time answering the question, "Is it wrong for the saints to share God's holy hostility toward the wicked?" - even if that participation is incomplete - in the affirmative. The psalmists clearly presented such 'shared hostility' not only as a commendation to God in their consciences regarding their own righteousness, (e.g., Ps.26:4-5), but as a participation in the righteous character of God Himself (e.g., Ps.139:29; 119:113). It was God-like.

And on this note, the messianic import of the Psalter is especially relevant. For the Psalms represent not merely the idealized piety of Israel's "everyman," but specifically that of the Davidic King. Not only is David the speaker in many cases, but the promised royal "Son of David" is often the focus. As Tremper Longman III writes, it is "significant that so much of the Psalter is connected with the institution of kingship in Israel and more specifically with David and his dynasty." The covenant with David (and, subsequently, the Temple complex and worship designed by him and implemented by his son, Solomon) provides the determinative theological and historical context of the whole Psalter (2Sam.7; cf. Ps.2; 45; 72; 89; 110; 132). In fact, the psalms could be summarized as instructions for life under God's reign - the kingdom of God - as experienced in and administered through the Davidic king.

In this covenant, God promises to establish David and "his son" as the anointed king (messiah) in Israel, the royal "son of God," through whom all the divine promises to the patriarchs would be fully and finally realized (e.g., cf. Ge.12:2-3; Ps.72:17; and Ge.15:13-21; 2Sam.7:10-11). David's earthly rule would not only represent God's heavenly kingdom in the world, but would anticipate (and partially realize) its fulfillment, "on earth as it is in heaven." Therefore, because of this close identification between the throne in Jerusalem and the throne above, David's enemies would become the enemies of God (see 2Sam.22:41; Ps.18:40; 89:23; cf. 2Sam.7:9), and vice versa. In other words, to become an enemy of the Davidic king was "nothing personal," merely, but rather an official stance against the whole elect nation of Israel, and more than that, against heaven itself (see Ps.2:1-12)!

This goes a long way in explaining the supposed naivety of the psalmists in so closely identifying their enemies with God's (pp.31-32, Reflections on the Psalms). Beyond simply the individual experience of the royal Davidide, due the corporate solidarity of the people with their King, and our solidarity with Christ by faith in particular, the enemies of the saints become the enemies of our King and of our God, and vice versa. It is very telling that when the sovereign, resurrected Christ confronts Saul on his path of persecuting the young church, His first words are, "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?" Our naivety, perhaps, is more to be found in our loose and cavalier identification of who are enemies are.

When we turn to the New Testament, we find this messianic reading of the Psalter confirmed in the teachings of Jesus himself (Lk.24:44, 25-27; Mt.22:41-46), and in the apostles' subsequent preaching (e.g., Ac.2:25-31; 13:22-39). Note especially in these interpretations the prophetic role David, as author, plays with respect to his coming, "Greater Son." In fact, of the passages Lewis cites in his essay (Ps.109, 69:23; 143:12; 137:8-9; 139:19; and 23:5), two of them are explicitly used in the New Testament in reference to Christ, the messianic king. It is enlightening to observe how they are applied.

One of the remarkable things about the davidic psalms is the reality of suffering and persecution. The great and powerful king of Israel can write, "I am poor and needy," "my enemies surround me," "those who hate me without cause outnumber the hairs of my head," "my throat is parched from calling out to you," "deep waters have engulfed me," and most famously, "my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" The messianic king is also the suffering servant of the Lord. It is typically in these "lamentations" that David cries out for vengenance against his enemies (though, note also Ps.2:7-12 and 110:1-6; cf., Ac.2:34-35; Eph.1:22; 1Cor.15:25-27; Heb.1:5-13; 10:13; Rev.12:5; 19:15). And the early church understood these prophetic descriptions of the individual and corporate enemies of David and his kingdom as anticipating and even precisely predicting the world's rejection and persecution of the Christ (e.g., see Acts 4:25-30).

Psalm 109:8 is cited by Peter in reference to Judas' betrayal in Acts 1:20. Jesus also cites Psalm 69:4 (cf. 109:3) in reference to his enemies in John 15:25. Similarly, Paul cites specifically Ps.69:22-23 in Romans 11:7-9, in describing those within Israel that have been 'hardened' in their response to Christ, having stumbled over God's chosen "cornerstone" (Rom.9:32-33; cf. 1Pe.2:6-8; Isa.28:16; Ps.118:22). Lastly, though Ps.137 is not directly referenced in the NT, we do read of the eschatological judgment of "Babylon" - the archetypal picture of 'civilized' evil - in which the Great City is finally repaid in full for all that it has done (Rev.18:6-7; cf. Ps.137:8-9). And what is the response of heaven to this terrifying judgment? "Rejoice over her, O heaven, and you saints and apostles and prophets, because God has pronounced judgment for you against her," Rev.18:20.

By looking at how the NT employs these verses, we see that these were understood by the early church as not only appropriate "Christian" texts, but as deeply Christological texts - functioning as messianic prophecy in disclosing both the coming reality of Christ's humiliation, in His rejection and sufferings, and, in his glorification, the destiny of all who oppose Him (e.g., Lk.19:27). Christ will rule in the midst of enemies (Rev.11:15-18; 19-22). And we, like the psalmists, cry out to God against the enemies of His people and of His Christ, praying for the grace and power to overcome, in order that we might rule with Him (Rev.2:27; 5:10; 20:6; 22:3-5; cf. 1Co.6:3).

C.S. Lewis on the Imprecatory Psalms, Pt II

In his chapter, "The Cursings," C.S. Lewis dismisses the maledictions of the Psalter as crude and spiteful expressions of a subchristian manner. Moreover, he asserts this without any argument. This, it seems to me, is the weak link in his thesis. His silence on the matter is both frustrating and revealing. It is frustrating because he actually skips the most crucial step in wrestling with these harsh words of holy writ. But it is also revealing, I think, of his misunderstanding of the biblical (canonical) context of the Psalms themselves, and the existential context of the individual psalmists.

There are a number of items to sort through in grasping the significance of the psalmists' curses. First, we must discuss the appropriateness of the saints desiring retribution against the wicked in divine judgment. Secondly, we must discuss the messianic or royal significance of the Psalter. And thirdly, we must explore the usage of these ancient psalms by the New Testament church (something Lewis surprisingly neglects altogether).

First, is it wrong for Christians to desire divine retribution against their enemies? Some point to Jesus' teachings in the Sermon on the Mount concerning the lex talionis principle articulated in the Pentateuch as evidence that it is. However, we should note two important caveats before drawing a definite conclusion. The first caveat is Jesus' own, given at the beginning of the sermon:

Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. I tell you the truth, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished. Anyone who breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.

In other words, Jesus is saying that we should not misunderstand his bold refutations of the received traditions and doctrines propounded in the synagogues ("you have heard it said..., but I say to you...") as tantamount to rejecting the Law or the Prophets themselves. Jesus is not overturning Moses. He is fulfilling Moses! In fact, to reject even "the least stork of a pen" in the Law is spiritually detrimental to both ourselves and our hearers.

The second caveat is to understand just how this principle was being abused in popular practice, and so how Jesus' teachings address his immediate audience. For example, in the paragraph before the one in question, after quoting Leviticus 19:12, Jesus tells his disciples, "But I say to you, do not swear at all..." Of course, if Jesus is making an absolute statement here against oath-taking, then He has indicted not only himself (when he later testifies under oath), the apostles (who similarly testified under oath), but God Himself who swore by an oath his promises to the patriarchs (e.g., Deut.4:31; 6:18; 7:8; 8:1; 13:17; etc.). However, when we read passages such as Matthew 23:16-22, we better understand the sophistry and abuse which Jesus is here addressing. As it has been said, usum non tollit abusus (abuse does not exclude use).

Likewise, regarding the retributive principle of lex talionis, we know that Jesus isn't hereby repealing the law as somehow unjust or unrighteous. It is consistently reflected in the punitive justice of God in both the Old and New Testament (e.g., Oba.1:15; Lam.3:64; 2Th.1:6; Rev.18:6). In fact, Jesus appears to employ it himself in regard to divine judgment (e.g., Lk.6:36-38; cf. Jas.2:13). Lewis also clearly understood the normative character of retribution in all just punishments, as he so persuasively argued in his excellent essay, "The Humanitarian Theory of Punishment."

Furthermore, it is evident that Jesus isn't here denying any use whatsoever of the retributive principle among his disciples. After all, if it is lawful, why should it be unlawful for his followers? And what is the appropriate usage of lex talionis among men? According to the Pentateuch, it was to be applied in the official courts of the community to establish justice and equity (e.g., Dt.19:15-21). It is not necessarily wrong, in other words, for the Christian to seek justice in the courts. However, as Lewis himself points out (but only to thereby implicate the inspired authors' words as contradicting God's Law), practicing mercy and forgiveness with personal enemies was the biblical norm for daily interactions and relationships within Israel (e.g., Ex.23:4-5; Lev.19:18; cf. Prov.25:21-22). According to the Law, the individual should not take justice into their own hands, but give grace instead, pursuing reconciliation and, if necesssary, the lawful means of restitution (cf., Mt.5:23-26). Jesus isn't really teaching us something new, then, but applying the Law itself against its perversion and misapplication by his contemporaries (e.g., see Mt.15:3-9).

Granted that lex talionis is appropriate for the judge, both human and divine, is it appropriate for the individual Christian to desire it against his enemies? To even pray for it? Again, the New Testament seems to affirm that it is. In fact, even the souls of "righteous men made perfect" pray to God for vengeance in heaven:

They called out in a loud voice, "How long, Sovereign Lord, holy and true, until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?" (Rev.6:10)

And according to the apostle Paul, it is precisely our hope that God will avenge us against our enemies which allows us to show them true grace, and so fulfill Jesus' teachings in the Sermon on the Mount:

Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay," says the Lord. On the contrary: "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head." Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

Of course, the Christian is not to seek personal revenge themselves, paying back evil for evil (Ro.12:17). But then the psalmists are not acting as vigilantes, taking revenge for themselves. Rather, they rightly place the matter into God's hands, and pray for justice. Are their words harsh? Yes. But appropriately so. And this will be even clearer as we explore the messianic character of the psalms in our next post.

C.S. Lewis on the Imprecatory Psalms, Pt I

It is said that actions speak louder than words. But no doubt we'll find that our words speak loud enough. Jesus once said, "I say to you that, every careless word that men shall speak, they shall render account for it in the day of judgment." This is enough to make the best among us shudder. Our words are in fact a kind of action (Jas.3:2-13), a deed, either good or bad. And these verbal 'actions' impact our hearers profoundly (e.g., 1Tim.4:16). There is, therefore, a certain, awful weightiness to our words, even where they are spoken lightly. And so Peter instructs, "If anyone speaks, he should do it as one speaking the very words of God." And James tells us, "Not many of you should presume to be teachers, my brothers." Our judgment will be more strict.

For we all stumble in many ways. If anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man, able to bridle the whole body as well.

If we all stumble, then we all stumble in our speech: "no one can tame the tongue, it is a restless evil and full of deadly poison!"

All of us then will undoubtedly regret some of the words we've spoken or written during our short sojourn on this earth. And almost certainly, there will be more than we now realize. Praise God that, to quote James again, "mercy triumphs over judgment"!

Some men of course speak better than others. C.S. Lewis is a man who, in more ways than one, has spoken better than most in our age. Martin Luther once charged Erasmus of using his golden-tongue in an unworthy endeavor: shoveling, um..."scheisse," I believe is the technical term in the German. Dr. Lewis, however, used his admirably, shoring up the biblical and rational foundations of the Christian West with great wit and wisdom. But I wonder which words he now regrets?

I recently re-read Lewis' remarks on the imprecatory psalms in a chapter from his insightful little book, Reflections on the Psalms, entitled "The Cursings." In it, he writes:

In some of the Psalms the spirit of hatred which strikes us in the face is like the heat from a furnace mouth. In others the same spirit ceases to be frightful only be becoming (to a modern mind) almost comic in its naivety... One way of dealing with these terrible or (dare we say?) contemptible Psalms is simply to leave them alone. But unfortunately the bad parts will not "come away clean"; they may, as we have noticed, be intertwined with the most exquisite things...At the outset I felt sure, and I feel sure still, that we must not either try to explain them away or to yield for one moment to the idea that, because it comes in the Bible, all this vindictive hatred must somehow be good and pious. We must face both facts squarely. The hatred is there - festering, gloating, undisguised-and also we should be wicked if we in any way condoned or approved it, or (worse still) used it to justify similar passions in ourselves.

Lewis goes on to offer what he feels is profitable in these otherwise contemptible psalms of Israel. He offers the following suggestions as to their potential usefulness for the Christian:

1) They reveal, and thereby expose in our own hearts, the natural if dangerous reaction of man to injustice. Beyong giving us insight into ourselves, however, they illustrate the depth of impact our sin has on the other, our victims, in tempting them through our injustice to such raw resentment and bitterness. Their vehemence and vindictiveness, in other words, both highlight our own hidden violence, and reveal the dark fruits born within those we violate. In this sense, then, their bad example serves us as a warning.

2)The very depths of their depravity speaks to the great heights of their spirituality. As he writes, "It seems that there is a general rule in the moral universe which may be formulated 'The higher the more in danger'... If the Jews cursed more bitterly than the Pagans this was, I think, at least in part because they took right and wrong more seriously... The Jew sinned in this matter worse than the Pagans not because they were further from God but because they were nearer to Him." In other words, if the Jewish psalmist vented his rage at wicked men, it was because he appropriately grasped that there is such a thing as evil, which was supremely hateful to God (even if he hated the evil-doer whom God Himself loved).

However, I think here, in his attempt to salvage such "devilish" poetry, "hideously distorted by the human instrument," as nevertheless God's Word, Lewis is at his least compelling. Certainly there are very many great insights along the way (e.g., "If the divine call does not make us better, it will make us worse"); but in the end, his rationalizations for redeeming these 'hateful' little songs appears rather thin and contrived. It is, to be sure, a hodgepodge of impressions, as Lewis honestly wrestles with what to do with these controversial words of Holy Scripture. However, perhaps he would have been wiser to do as the psalmist did in 73, and kept it to himself: "If I had said, 'I will speak thus,' I would have betrayed your children," (v.15). Or, at least kept it to himself until he understood fully the "final destiny" of the wicked in light of God's majesty and holiness (v.17).

In particular, I wonder if C.S. Lewis' assessment of these psalms (he cites Ps.109, 69:23; 143:12; 139:19; 137:9; and 23:5) is accurate from the outset? Are these in fact the embarrassing expressions of crass hatred and vindictive appeals for personal revenge, that he claims? Have the psalmists of Israel mispoke? Are their maledictions a slip of an otherwise pious tongue? This is what I'd like to explore in the next post...

Another Great Quote

"Between heaven and hell is only this life, which is the most fragile thing in the world."

Blaise Pascal