Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Ecclesiastes: the First Book of the Bible in the Modern Age

There’s this old joke.  Two elderly women are in a Catskills Mountain resort and one of ‘em says: “Boy, the food at this place is really terrible.”  The other one says, “Yeah, I know, and such small portions.”  Well, that’s essentially how I feel about life.  Full of loneliness and misery and suffering and unhappiness, and it’s all over much too quickly.     --Woody Allen
Life is a sexually transmitted disease and there is a 100 percent mortality rate.  --R.D. Laing
If you want my final opinion on the mystery of life and all that, I can give it to you in a nutshell.  The universe is like a safe to which there is a combination.  But the combination is locked up in the safe.
--Peter De Vries


In my opinion Ecclesiastes is one of the most powerful books found within the biblical text.  This is especially true when one is engaged (as all Christians should be) in the task of evangelism.  One might be tempted to dismiss this claim.  Upon an initial reading of the book, it appears to be one of the least likely candidates of the biblical books to be an evangelical apparatus.  Furthermore, the overall idea presented in Ecclesiastes appears to be out of joint when it is placed side by side with the other tomes in the canon--“Vanity of Vanities.”  The futility and meaninglessness, the utter pain-filled absurdity of life is often the strongest and most common argument which nonbelievers confront Christians with when attempting to refute the life of faith.  Why would we give them a book with biblical authority as further ammunition?  Why not use one of the Gospels, which purports to give an answer to their anxious question, rather than present them with material that simply seems to echo their objections to the truth which we are attempting to convince them of?  I have two good reasons for thinking that presenting the book of Ecclesiastes to seekers and skeptics is a very practical evangelical stratagem.
The first, and I believe most important, reason is precisely that the main question found within the book of Ecclesiastes does mirror that asked by angst-ridden, modern man.  As John Stott, Francis Schaffer, and many other apologists have made clear, the best way to reason with your fellow man is to meet him on “his level.”  This is the reason that I approach skeptics, atheists, and agnostics with the book of Ecclesiastes rather than with one of the four Gospels.  This allows them to reassert the most painful question of the human heart, the question asked by both the author of Ecclesiastes and Job:
Everything is boring, utterly boring – no one can find any meaning in it.
---- The Book of Ecclesiastes, chapter 1, verse 7 (The Message Translation)

Why didn’t I die at birth, my first breath out of the womb my last?  Why were there arms to rock me, and breasts for me to drink from?  I could be resting in peace right now, asleep forever, feeling no pain, in the company of kings and statesmen in their royal ruins, or with princes resplendent in their gold and silver tombs.  Why wasn’t I stillborn and buried with all the babes who never saw the light, where the wicked no longer trouble anyone and bone-weary people get a long deserved rest?  Prisoners sleep undisturbed, never again to wake up to the bark of the guards.  The small and the great are equals in that place, the slaves are free from their masters.  ----The Book of Job, Chapter 3, verses 11-19 (The Message Translation)

In other words, the skeptic asks, “Is there an ultimate purpose, a raison d'être (reason for being), at the center of human existence?”  The language of the Book of Ecclesiates corresponds in a very real way to that used by the twentieth century’s sainted philosopher, Jean-Paul Charles Aymard Sartre, especially in his novel La Nausee. 
As the modern theologian and philosopher, Peter Kreeft, states, “Whenever I teach the Bible as a whole, I always begin with Ecclesiastes.  In another age we could begin with God’s beginning, Genesis.  But in this age, the Age of Man, we must begin where our patient is; we must begin with Ecclesiastes.” (Kreeft, 20)   The cynical existentialist will find comfort in no other biblical book like he does in Ecclesiastes; for it is a mirror, and within the context of its pane (pain) modern man finally recognizes his face.  This leads me to my second point: the need to awaken modern man from his slumber, or to get modern man to re-ask the question regarding life’s purpose.
     One  reason I do not believe it is wise to approach a skeptic with the Gospel texts initially is the simple fact that the Gospels provide the individual with The Answer to the question with regard to life’s ultimate purpose.  This last statement seems to violate apologetic reasoning.  Do we not want to provide the skeptic with the answers to their questions and lead them to the Gospel, to the Truth.  I must admit that this is the ultimate end for the Christian apologist; however, we cannot lead someone to an answer, not the least to The Answer, if they do not properly understand the question to which The Answer (Christ) is responding.  This is the second reason that I begin with Ecclesiastes when I am introducing the Gospel message to a skeptic or nonbeliever.  Ecclesiastes reasserts, with painful clarity, the original philosophical quandary: What is human existence for?  After all, if we cannot find purpose in money, pleasure, power, or intellectual prowess, as Ecclesiastes claims we cannot, where is meaning to be found?  As Peter Kreeft mentions in his book, Three Philosophies of Life, “…Ecclesiastes is the contrast, the alternative, to the rest of the Bible, the question to which the rest of the Bible is the answer.  There is nothing more meaningless than an answer without its question.  That is why we need Ecclesiastes.” (Kreeft, 19)
     To see this point in a more humorous way one must consult the writings of Douglas Adams, specifically the 27th and 28th chapters of his novel, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.  In this portion of this most amusing work of fiction a couple of extraterrestrial scientists are in dialogue with a supercomputer, in fact The Supercomputer.  The E.T. scientists main concern is to discover the ultimate meaning of life.  “What’s it all about Alfie?” Or in this case, “What’s it all about Deep Thought (as this is the computer’s name in the novel)?”  The alien researchers are shocked when Deep Thought reveals that the answer to the ultimate query is the number 42.  After a couple of heated words are exchanged by the scientists, the computer interjects and offers a solution to their new problem:
“I checked it very thoroughly,” said the computer, “and that quite definitely is the answer.  I think the problem, to be quite honest with you, is that you’ve never actually known what the question is.” 
“But it was the Great Question!  The Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe and Everything,” howled Loonquawl [one of the E.T. Scientists].
“Yes,” said Deep Thought with the air of one who suffers fools gladly, “but what actually is it?”  (Adams, 121)

One should be able to recognize the dilemma in which modern science and philosophy (especially Deconstruction/Postmodernism) find themselves within the context of the previous dialogue.  Modern man repeatedly and fallaciously assumes that he knows and understands life’s ultimate question and does not need to bother with the elementary task of asking it again.  Perhaps he only pretends to be “seeking” an answer like a small child playing pirate, searching for a treasure that he “knows” does not exist. Ecclesiastes reacquaints us with the question; it rubs our noses in it.  The author of Ecclesiastes points, in much the same way as an elderly schoolmaster would, toward the data presented to us by the universe and demands that we recognize the problem.  According to Kreeft, “Ecclesiastes is the one book in the Bible that modern man needs to read, for it is Lesson One, and the rest of the Bible is Lesson Two, and modernity does not heed Lesson Two because it does not heed Lesson One” (20).  It is for this reason that I believe that Ecclesiastes is one of the best and most overlooked evangelical tool in the Christian’s arsenal.          
        
Sources Cited

Adams, Douglas.  The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide.  London, Random House, 1996.

Kreeft, Peter.  Three Philosophies of Life.  San Francisco, Ignatius Press, 1989.

All of the Biblical passages cited in this article are taken from The Message translation; Eugene Peterson, Colorado Springs, Navpress, 2003.

Poem 6

An alien to himself,
His hands have been stolen from him,
Laboring on tasks for other men,
A machine among machines,
Production,
Over-production and senseless waste,
A machine among machines,
He turns a wheel that has no purpose for him beyond its turning,
To make bread that mouths will not eat,
His stomach remains empty.

Just Thinking

Esoteric or exoteric?
Often I have thought both styles of teaching were identical twins,
Were they parables,
Or were Jesus’ disciples to dense to understand the truth that is so simple it can only be expressed in pictures?

Monday, December 13, 2010

Poem 5

He wanted to write a poem about eternity,
I told him I did not think it was wise,
For one thing he would not be able to make good on his promise,
Poets who end lines with words like “Forever” and “Infinitude” are often the most unfaithful,
Cheap salesmen who offer the universe in a box,
Trapped between three lines of free-verse,
Or rhyme,
It doesn’t matter,
Some of the most inscrutable prostitutes clothe themselves in the reputable colors of rhyme,
But you can always spot them,
Just look at their shoes.

Poem 4

I am a second-hand man,
Only my face is new; however, the verity of this statement is still in question,
Strange men who say they know my father always come up to me and say, “You look just like the old man,”
So maybe my face is used too,
Or at least bits of it are,
My eyes maybe my father’s, but the oval shaped head,
That’s mine,
I press my nose against the mirror just to check,
The lips look a bit worn for their age,
And my cheeks,
Well,
To be perfectly honest,
I got them out of the back of a van from a suspicious looking man downtown,

Poem 3

Have you ever tried reading a map,
Not just looking at it,
I mean really reading the contours of our Mother’s face,
A map is just a portrait of possibility,
A map is a postcard painfully written and delivered late,
The desire to move,
As if my shoes had minds of their own,
Her hand keeps me steady.

Poem 2

Time and decay are essentially related,
I have cupped my hand around my ear to here a name whispered on the wind,
This name could very well be my own, but as I am incapable of naming myself this knowledge eludes me,
Moment – moment – moment – moment,
Time, a ceaseless train,
I have stepped on Time’s trailing skirt and she stumbles forth,
Tortuous – torticollis,
Time is out of joint,
History is more cacophony than symphony,
More an autopsy than archeology,
More entomology than discovery,
But there is hope in the eschaton!

Poem 1

One night I dreamt of a short stay in hell.
It was not as quaint as they make it sound.
I was seated next to Kafka in a sterile, grey room.
All was silence except for the beehive they kept inside the fluorescent lights above my head.
(Every-once-in-awhile, buttons to be pushed, pencils to be sharpened, papers to be shuffled.)
The devil would pop in once every hour, look at me over his spectacles, write something on his clipboard and leave abruptly.
I looked down the hall into an endless corridor of filing cabinets.
Escape?
Out of the question.
I have bills to pay.

The theology of the Church in the presence of the State

The relationship of the church to the state has always been one of a precarious nature.  Ever since Jesus utter the words “give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s”[1] in the twenty second chapter of Matthew, the church has been divided apropos the meaning and application of the text.  On the one hand theologians have argued that the body of Christ is to be actively engaged in civic and econo-political life; however, even these theologians differ with regard to the appropriate degree and formulae of social and public praxis.  Conversely, a number of theologians (taking their cue from the dialogue that occurs between Pilate and Jesus in the Gospel of John 18:33-38) have also argued that the “Kingdom of God” exists in an entirely separate sphere from terrestrial governing bodies and imperial entities.  These theologians often look at Christ’s commandment to “render unto Caesar” as an example of Jesus’ skillful use of esoteric teaching, implicitly teaching that in reality everything belongs to God and so there is nothing left to give to the emperor.  Though these two theolo-political perspectives do not represent the full spectral array of Christian political philosophy, their position at the margins of the spectrum allows them to be instructive and provide challenges to the more normative perspectives.  Theologians of the former persuasion will be examined first, as this ordering allows for an easy comparison between the two aforementioned perspectives.
There have been a number of contemporary theologians and church leaders that have argued for active ecclesial engagement with secular political power.  These theological scholars and clergy have often been attracted to divergent and even conflicting arenas of political engagement.  Similarly, this “body” of theologians also differs regarding the appropriate level of political involvement prescribed for the “body of Christ.”  Generally, the spectrum of theo-political engagement is reflective of secular civic participation. 
            Latin American liberation theologians can be counted among those that argue for radical political engagement.  The main task proposed by liberation theology and its proponents is the revolutionary restructuring of society in order to address the material necessities of the poor and, as Jose Miranda argues in his labourious text Marx and the Bible: A Critique of the Philosophy of Oppression, the spiritual sustenance of the wealthy and politically powerful.[2]  A majority of liberation theologians see systemic, global capitalism as the main obstacle to the realization of the principles of God’s kingdom within an earthly context.  Individuals may “sin,” or do harm to one another, but “Sin” proper is more often the result of the social and political edifice of the consumer capitalist superstructure.  Miranda clarifies this position stating, “[i]njustice is more a work of the social machinery, of the system of [capitalist] civilization and culture, than it is of people’s intentions.”[3]  This position is also embraced and made more explicitly political by the liberation theologian and scholar Pablo Richard.  In his essay, “Biblical Theology of Confrontation,” he develops the premise that Christians (whether they are formal scholars, members of the clergy, or lay believers) cannot engage with, or encounter the consumer capitalist nexus (which he refers to as a system of idolatry) without conflict:
In these times it is impossible to seek the God of Jesus Christ without coming directly face to face with the idols and fetishes of the dominant system.  Christians can theologically analyze the question of God only from a political perspective that confronts the religious system of modern capitalism.  The poor can seek the visage of the real God only by working within a political praxis of liberation.  Likewise, the class struggle has been transformed into a struggle of the God of Jesus Christ against the Olympus of the gods of the capitalist system.[4]

Upon cursory inspection it should be readily apparent that the proponents of liberation theology view capitalism as a deterrent to authentic Christian worship and praxis; however, liberation theo-political scholars do not simply recommend non-participation in the market as the Christian solution.  On the contrary, most liberation theologians advocate a radical restructuring of the socio-economic order, which most often includes a revolutionary engagement with the main guardian of the market (the visible arm of the market to borrow and paraphrase a term developed by Adam Smith): the state.  Within the context of his book A Theology of Liberation, Gustavo Gutiérrez emphasizes the fact that liberation theology is “a theology which does not limit itself to think the world, but which attempts to place itself as a moment of the process through which the world is transformed.”[5]  Here, one finds Gutiérrez appropriating Karl Marx dictum: “The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various way; the point, however, is to change it.”[6]  Radical engagement, coalescing in the form of a revolutionary challenge apropos the political economy of the status quo is best expressed by Jose Miguez Bonino.  In the text Doing Theology in a Revolutionary Situation, Bonino argues that while Christians may chose different methods of confrontation with the unjust state (nonviolent resistance vs. physical conflict) , they must side with the oppressed in their task of liberation:
A Christian ethics cannot take refuge in the subjective appeal to “my conscience” or satisfy itself with a readiness to suffer violence without resistance.  For it is not our life or comfort as Christians which is at stake – at this point the Christian community can only follow the road of the cross – but the life and humanity of our neighbor.  Certainly Christians in the struggle for liberation will witness to their faith – as well as to the ultimate goal of the revolution – by insisting on counting carefully the cost of violence, by fighting against all idolization of destruction and the destructive spirit of hate and revenge, by attempting to humanize the struggle, by keeping in mind that beyond victory there must be reconciliation and construction.  But they cannot block through Christian scruples the road clearly indicated by a lucid assessment of the situation.  Even less can they play the game of reaction lending support to those who are profiting from present violence or weakening through sentimental pseudo-Christian slogans (however well meaning) the will among the oppressed to fight for their liberation.[7]

Having examined the position of liberation theology, and establishing its advocacy of radical political engagement, it is necessary to look at several of the theologians who place themselves on the opposite side of the civic participatory spectrum.  These theological scholars put forward the position that, rather than participate in revolutionary upheaval, Christians are expected to establish alternative social constructs within the context of the existing socio-political order.  The theologian and religious scholar Greg Carey clarifies this position in his treatise “The Book of Revelation as Counter-Imperial Script.”  In this article Carey argues that while the book of Revelation is an anti-imperial text par excellence, it does not promote revolutionary incursions against the imperial powers of injustice.  On the contrary, Revelation invites the “body of believers” to establish an alternative social order while waiting for the establishment of God’s kingdom on earth.[8]
Vernard Eller, the late Church of the Brethren minister and former professor of religion at the University of La Verne, also held the position that Christians were meant to be the genesis of a new type of society.  He affirmed the concept that, while Christians are supposed to radically resist the power of the earthly state in matters of injustice and ultimate loyalty, they are not to do so through violent or coercive revolutionary means.  Eller’s view of the Christian’s radical resistance to imperial and state authority is centered on the reality of the fundamental uniqueness of Christian ethical and social praxis.  The Christian resists the state’s power by virtue of being transformed into an alien entity in relation to the dominant norms and mores of the social context within which the (s)he finds her/himself.  Eller develops this idea in his classic text War and Peace: From Genesis to Revelation, creating an analogy that compares the presence of the Christian community in secular society with the presence of an emetic in the bowels of a poison-laden stomach:
The consequence of taking an emetic is that the stomach is thrown into the convulsion (revolution) of vomiting; but in a very real sense this is not the emetic’s doing.  All in the world it does is refuse to be assimilated; it remains the “indigestibility” it is.  The stomach actually brings convulsion on itself through its effort at making this foreign substance conform to its gastric terms.  Truly, it is by ignoring both the poison and the stomach that the emetic has its curative effect of getting the poison disgorged…Just so, the Christian approach of defenseless nonconformity is more radical than what usually passes as radicalism today…Here then is the sense in which defenseless love gains the victory that overcomes the world and purges it of evil.  True – yes, very true – the emetic gets itself vomited out along with the poison (this is the way of the cross); but for the Christian emetic there is a resurrection that puts it back into business.[9]

If this statement does not provide one with enough clarity in relation to Eller’s view of the relationship betwixt the church body and the body politic a simple quote from another of his texts, Christian Anarchy: Jesus’ Primacy over the Powers, should suffice to do so: “What it comes to is that theology and politics are controlled by two different orders of truth…every attempt at mixture creates complete confusion.”[10]
            When placed in juxtaposition these two theological perspectives create in interesting aporia, or space of suspended tension.  Proponents of both positions can neither claim to exhaust the possibilities of Christian theo-political activity, nor can they claim to have the final say on the appropriate attitudinal position which the Christian must adopt with respect to the current ordo seclorum.  With regard to these distinct religious and civic positions, however, their import lies in their extremity.  Due to the fact that liberation theology and antinomian, or anarchic theology reside on the margins of the political praxis debate, they are in the position to provide the more normative theological schools of thought with numerous and pertinent challenges.  In recognition of this reality it is imperative to have at least a cursory understanding of these opposing viewpoints.







Sources Cited

The People’s Bible: New Revised Standard Version
Bonino, Jose Miguez Doing Theology in a Revolutionary Situation (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975)

Carey, Greg “The Book of Revelation as Counter-Imperial Script,” in In the Shadow of Empire: Reclaiming the Bible as a History of Faithful Resistance (London: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008)

Eller, Vernard War and Peace: From Genesis to Revelation (Kitchener, Ontario: Herald Press, 1981)

Eller, Vernard Christian Anarchy: Jesus’ Primacy over the Powers (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdman’s Publishing Company, 1987)

Gutiérrez, Gustavo A Theology of Liberation (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1973)

Marx, Karl “Theses on Feurerbach,” in Marx and Engels: Basic Writings on Politics and Philosophy (Garden City, New York: Anchor Books, 1959)

Miranda, José Marx and the Bible: A Critique of the Philosophy of Oppression (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1974)

Richard, Pablo “Biblical Theology of Confrontation” in The Idols of Death and the God of Life (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1983)










[1] The People’s Bible: New Revised Standard Version, Matt. 22:21
[2] José Miranda, Marx and the Bible: A Critique of the Philosophy of Oppression (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1974), xi.
[3] Miranda, Marx and the Bible, xi.
[4] Pablo Richard, “Biblical Theology of Confrontation” in The Idols of Death and the God of Life (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1983), 4.
[5] Gustavo Gutiérrez, A Theology of Liberation (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1973), 15.
[6] Karl Marx, “Theses on Feurerbach,” in Marx and Engels: Basic Writings on Politics and Philosophy (Garden City, New York: Anchor Books, 1959), 245.
[7] Jose Miguez Bonino, Doing Theology in a Revolutionary Situation (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975), 128.
[8] Greg Carey, “The Book of Revelation as Counter-Imperial Script,” in In the Shadow of Empire: Reclaiming the Bible as a History of Faithful Resistance (London: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 157-176.
[9] Vernard Eller, War and Peace: From Genesis to Revelation (Kitchener, Ontario: Herald Press, 1981), 211-212.
[10] Vernard Eller, Christian Anarchy: Jesus’ Primacy over the Powers (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdman’s Publishing Company, 1987), 170.

Luke 19:41-44

The normative reading of Luke 19:41-44 emphasizes the predictive nature of Jesus’ lamentation outside of the city and temple of Jerusalem.  A number of biblical scholars have even suggested that the purpose of the passage is to condemn the Jewish temple establishment and provide further legitimacy for Paul’s missionary activities amongst the gentiles.[1]  However, if the passage is read with an awareness of its historical and literary context a different dimension of Lukan theology is revealed.  Instead of a prediction of the destruction and obsolescence of the Jewish temple system, in this passage the author of Luke provides a prophetic[2] critique of the messianic desires of his contemporaries, as well as the abuses of the elites that ruled by complicity with Roman oppression.  For the author of Luke, the militaristic and political conception of the Messiah was mistaken.  Also, Luke shows that the pursuit of power in general is not the way “that makes for peace.”  On the contrary, the Gospel of Luke presents the nonviolent, apolitical[3] Jesus as expected Messiah, or “anointed one.” 
The question of the Gospel’s authorship is difficult to resolve. Marion Llyod Soards clarifies this point in her introduction to Luke in the New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha:
The oldest traditions of the Christian church identify Luke, a physician who was a traveling companion and coworker with Paul (Philem 1.24; Col 4.14), as the author of the Gospel and its sequel, The Acts of The Apostles.  At times the tradition further identifies Luke as a Syrian from Antioch, but practically nothing else is remembered of the writer of the Third Gospel.  The earliest of these traditions about the identity of the author are from the late second century, and scholarly analysis of the Gospel and Acts raises critical questions about the accuracy of the attribution of the writings to the doctor, Luke, who was Paul’s associate.[4]

John T. Squires also indicates that “the name ‘Luke’ is used purely by convention to designate the unknown author of this gospel.[5]  However, while there is some dispute regarding the identity of the author of the Gospel of Luke, the traditional ascription of authorship to Luke, Paul’s companion, is not entirely problematic.[6]  Whether or not Luke the physician is the actual author of the Gospel has little bearing on the interpretation of the passage in question.  The resolution of this dispute in either direction does not lend weight or credence to either the predictive or prophetic reading of Luke 19.41-44, because the accuracy and authority of the text does not require apostolic authorship.  The author of the gospel does not claim to be an “eyewitness” to the events described, but a historian. 
The title of “historian” must be qualified, since the author of the Gospel of Luke did not view the function and purpose of history in the same manner as most modern historians.  David Bolotin points out the distinction between ancient and contemporary historiography in his essay regarding the political philosophy of the ancient historian Thucydides. Bolotin suggests that for ancients like Thucydides histories were complied and written for the moral instruction of their readers, and not as a pseudo-scientific endeavor to record and codify the events of the past.  For Bolotin “Thucydides whole work,” directs us “toward his own way of life – above all, his ‘quest for truth’ and his writing of ‘a possession for all time’ – as the best life for man.”[7]  Ernst Breisach also notes the moralistic motivation present within ancient historiography.[8]  While it has been asserted that the Gospel of Luke belongs a number of differing genres[9], its classification as an example of ancient Hellenistic biography and historiography appears to be justified.  John T. Squires makes this point explicit in his essay “The Gospel According to Luke.”  According to Squires “many of the formal characteristics of Luke-Acts resonate with the way that ‘history’ was presented in the Hellenistic world.”[10]  Squires also states that the author’s purpose for writing the gospel places it within the genre of Hellenistic historiography:
Why does the author write?  The final clause of the preface declares that this work is designed to provide ‘assurance’ or ‘certainty’ (asphaleian, 1.3).  The NRSV translation, ‘truth’, evokes the sense of correct dogma or irrefutable historical fact, but points beyond this to the notion of truth as an interpretation of the material collected in the work which is pertinent and applicable to the context in which those who read it are located.  Hellenistic writers were explicit in noting that a good history must be for the benefit of its audience, by instilling the truth in those who read their works.  The preface thus expresses the purpose of the work in terms of the historical enterprise, indicating that the author writes to encourage his fellow believers in their faith, and to equip them to bear witness to their faith in the circumstances of their daily lives.[11]

This means that the gospel of Luke was written in order to instruct its audience in a particular ethic and manner of living.  It is therefore likely that the passage in 19:41-44 was included in order to accomplish this goal, and not to illustrate Jesus’ clairvoyance, or predictive, psychic ability.
            Since the main purpose of the author of the Gospel of Luke appears to be the instruction of its audience regarding a particular mode of living, a brief consideration of the audience is necessary.  Kathy Maxwell has noted that the author of Luke uses rhetorical tools that indicate an expectation of audience participation.[12]  In her book Hearing Between the Lines: The Audience as Fellow-Worker in Luke-Acts and its Literary Milieu, Maxwell asserts that the author of Luke is not merely recording historical data for the purpose of developing archival knowledge.  On the contrary, as was noted above, the author of Luke intended to write something that shapes the lives of those who read it.  This suggests that there existed a particular community that would have been receptive to the lessons contained within Luke’s history.  While there is a great deal of debate over the exact nature of audience being addressed,[13] it would be difficult to deny that the author of Luke has a definite audience whose perceptions he intends to shape.  In general, however, it is believed that the Gospel of Luke was intended for specific ancient Christian communities and also as an apologetic tool for the expansion of those communities.  This reality has lead Craig L. Blomberg to state that while the ancient Christian gospels were intended for the spiritual formation of early Christian communities, they are also intended for “all Christians.”[14]  Recognizing this fact, the lessons that were intended for specific ancient Christian communities could still be, at least analogically, applicable for modern Christian communities.        
            Most scholars argue that the Gospel of Luke was written after 70CE, due to the fact the Mark and Q both appear to be significant sources for its author.[15]  This means that the Gospel of Luke was written following the Roman destruction the city of Jerusalem and of the second Jewish temple.[16]  The destruction of the temple system and the city of Jerusalem would have had a profound impact on the gospel’s author, as well as its audience.  This is because the socio-political power dynamics of the ancient world were always couched in the imagery and symbolism of religion.  This is especially true of the world dominated by the hegemony of the Roman Empire.  Richard Bauckham notes that the emperors and the elites of the Roman imperial state justified their authority and power by locating its origin in divine will.[17]  Essentially, the claim of Roman imperial propaganda was that the locus of divine power and will was in the Roman emperor’s throne room.  Bauckham clarifies this point in his book The Theology of the Book of Revelation:
The Roman Empire, like most political powers in the ancient world, represented and propagated its power in religious terms.  Its state religion, featuring the worship both of deified emperors and of the traditional gods of Rome, expressed political loyalty through religious worship.  In this way it absolutized its power, claiming for itself the ultimate divine sovereignty over the world.[18]

Thus the Romans, along with most of the people of the Roman Empire, would have viewed the destruction of Jerusalem and the Jewish temple as an affirmation of the primacy of Roman imperial and religious power.  The Jewish claim that God would deliver them from Roman rule by sending a Messiah would also be called into question. 
The author of the gospel of Luke was also cognizant of this situation.  As such, the passage in Luke 19:41-44 can be seen as a response to this reality in two ways.  Luke challenges the erroneous messianic expectations of the Jewish religious elite, as well as the alliances made by the Jewish political leaders.  With respect to the former, by Jesus’ time the Jewish people had already developed a history of political and military messianic resistance in relation to the Roman Empire and it predecessors.  Extending back to the period of Babylonian and Persian domination of the Jewish populous there has always been an expectation that a political and military leader would liberate the nation of Israel from foreign oppression.[19]  Indeed it is thought that many of the prophetic writings that are included in Old Testament were written during either the exilic or post-exilic period, meaning that much of the imagery used to describe the Jewish Messiah was likely influenced by the experience of political and religious oppression.[20]  This expectation persisted through the period of Hellenistic rule and was intensified by the Jewish experience of the Maccabean Revolt followed by the establishment of the semi-independent Hasmonean state.[21]  Richard Horsley notes the importance of this historic epoch stating that the Jewish people (both the elites and the peasantry) “had sustained a successful war of national liberation, probably with some significant apocalyptic [and messianic] inspiration.”[22]  For many of their contemporaries the Maccabean leaders were regarded as messianic leaders.  In other words, the experience of the Maccabean revolt and Jewish independence under Hasmonean rule would have further ingrained the political and military imagery associated with messianic ideas in the consciousness of the Jewish people. 
This political and martial messianic tradition persisted through the period of Roman imperial hegemony.  This type of messianic expectation culminated in the 1st (66-70CE) and 2nd (132-135CE) Jewish wars against Rome.[23]  It is likely that the author of the gospel of Luke included the passage found in 19:41-44 as an attempt to criticize the false messianic ideology of the Jewish religious elite and to indicate that Jesus was the true Messiah.  In doing so Luke inverts the power dynamics of Jewish messianic thought, and answers the Roman challenge that Jewish messianic was a lost cause.  Jesus did not come to lead another war of liberation against the Romans, or to establish an earthly kingdom which wielded the power of the state.  According to Luke, those that engage in such activities “do not know the ways that make for peace,” and do not “recognize the hour of the Lord’s visitation.”  Furthermore, those who accept the legitimacy of martial and political messianic movements end up surrounded and under siege by the forces of imperial power.  In her book My Enemy is My Guest: Jesus and Violence in Luke J. Massyngbaerde Ford points out that the author of Luke equates “peace” with the acceptance of Jesus’ message and that divine “visitation” is the harbinger of “political disaster, not political, victory for Israel.”[24]  Ford also notes the similarities between Jesus’ prediction of the fate of Jerusalem and the description of the Roman siege and destruction of Jerusalem provided by the ancient Jewish historian Josephus.[25]  This provides some evidence in favor of the post-70CE dating of the gospel.  She further elaborates on this point, contrasting the accounts of Jesus’ prediction of the fall of Jerusalem and the temple in the other synoptic gospels:
Luke further elaborates Jesus’ prediction of the fall of Jerusalem in his redaction of the synoptic apocalypse…It seems to me that in both descriptions Luke, in contrast to Matthew and Mark, speaks clearly about the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans…What is interesting, however, is how Luke, and Luke alone, speaks of this catastrophe…the prediction is directly contrary to the nationalistic expectations of the infancy narratives (cf. the Magnificat).  Vengeance or retribution does not come upon Israel’s enemies but upon itself.[26]

In other words the erroneous ideas of the popular messianic ideology contemporaneous with Jesus and his followers ultimately lead to the destruction of Jerusalem, the temple, and any semblance of an independent Jewish polity.  This criticism would have remained relevant after the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple because several “socio-revolutionary resistance and rebellion movements”[27] were still operative.  A second major Jewish conflagration with Rome occurring in the years 132-135CE is evidence of this. 
            Luke 19:41-44 is placed in a significant position with regard to the entire narrative of the gospel.  This passage is placed between Jesus’ triumphal entry into the city of Jerusalem (19:35-40) and the description of his driving the merchants and money lenders from within the temple, followed by his teaching in the temple (19:45-48).  As in the other synoptic Gospels, the triumphal entry into the city is described in order to indicate the messianic identity of Jesus.  The lament in Luke 19:41-44 is not present in the other Gospel accounts, indicating that Luke is attempting to communicate something distinct regarding Jesus’ identity as the Messiah.  In all likelihood, for reasons at least similar to those listed above, Luke probably included this portion in his narrative to emphasize the uniqueness of the Christian messianic perspective.  
            The second way that Luke 19:41-44 challenges the ancient power dynamics is by confronting the assumption of the Hellenized Jewish rulers that a stable relationship with the Roman imperial power structure was the primary condition for peace.  For Luke’s Jesus is not just weeping over the temple establishment, but the city of Jerusalem as a whole.  This is an indication that he, in a manner similar to the prophets of the Old Testament is prophetically judging the oppression that is being perpetrated by the Jewish ruling elite, as well as the Romans.  The Romans typically did not rule any territory directly (the exception would be made in the case of an obstinate client state).[28]  More often, the Roman imperial structure used client kings, who were usually members of the local elite, to extend its influence in any particular region.[29]  This was the case in Israel, with the dynasty created by Herod Antipater controlling much of the territory within Palestine.[30]  Richard Horsley has indicated that the temple establishment of Jerusalem was also implicated in the oppression and injustice extended by Roman rule.  In his essay “Jesus and Empire,” Horsley states that in the region of Judea the Jewish temple was the center of Roman imperial power:
Roman imperial rule of Galilee and Judea worked primarily through client-rulers.  Just as Herod Antipas maintained order on Rome’s behalf in Galilee, so the priestly aristocracy maintained order and collected the tribute in Judea, under the oversight of the Roman governors.  Indeed, except perhaps at Passover time when the Roman governor and his troops provided such a visible reminder of Roman domination, the primary face of Roman imperial rule in Judea was the Temple, Herod’s massively reconstructed ‘wonder of the world’ with the Roman eagle over its gate, and the high priests, appoint by the Roman governor.[31]

Hence, it is easy to see that the prophetic critique voiced in Luke 19:41-44 is also targeting the ruling Jewish aristocracy and its complicity with Roman oppression.  This is why, according to Horsley, “Jesus stands in a long line of Israelite prophets who protested the ruling house’s exploitation and were killed.”[32]
This passage has a much to teach contemporary Christian readers.  Whether one is cognizant of it or not, many of the power dynamics at work during the time Luke’s Gospel are still prevalent in the modern world.   Authors such as Richard Horsley[33], Nicholas Wolterstorff[34], and Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri[35] have all written about the presence of imperial dynamics in the contemporary historical period.  Thus, there is potential for Christians today to participate in idolatrous practices similar to those denounced by the author of the Gospel of Luke in 19:41-44.  Christians can embrace a militant millenarian perspective similar to the messianic revolutionaries that challenged Roman domination through military insurgence.  It is equally possible for Christians to uncritically benefit from the political status quo, supporting injustice and oppression by proxy.  If however, the modern Christian reader actively engages the text of Luke 19:41-44, there is potential to develop the critical perspective necessary to avoid either of these instances.  It is important that those who teach this text be conscious of its potential.











Works Cited

Balch, David L. “Luke” in Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible, eds., James D. G. Dunn and John W. Rogerson (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdman’s Publishing Company, 2003).

Bauckham, Richard The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993).

Blomberg, Craig L. “The Gospels For Specific Communities and All Christians,” in The Audience of the Gospels: The Origin and Function of the Gospels in Early Christianity, ed., Edward W. Klink III (London: T & T Clark, 2010).

BockMuehl, Markus and James Carleton Paget, eds., Redemption and Resistance: The Messianic Hopes of Jews and Christians in Antiquity (London: T & T Clark, 2009).

Bolotin, David “Thucydides” in History of Political Philosophy: Third Edition. eds., Leo Struass and Joseph Cropsey (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987).

Breisach, Ernst Historiography: Ancient, Medieval, and Modern (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007).

Ford, J. Massyngbaerde My Enemy is My Guest: Jesus and Violence in Luke (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1984).

Fredrick, Mary Ann Luke’s Portrayal of the Jews and Judaism in Luke-Acts and its Relationship to the Sources of Anti-Semitism (Florida: University of Florida Press, 1994).

Hardt, Michael and Antonio Negri Empire (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2000).

Hardt, Michael and Antonio Negri Multitude: War and Democracy in the Age of Empire (New York: Penguin Books, 2004).

Horsley, Richard Jesus and Empire: The Kingdom of God and the New World Disorder (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003).

Horsley, Richard “Jesus and Empire” in In the Shadow of Empire: Reclaiming the Bible as a History of Faithful Resistance, ed., Richard Horsley (London: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

Horsley, Richard and John S. Hanson Bandits, Prophets, and Messiahs: Popular Movements at the Time of Jesus (San Francisco: Harper and Row Publishers, 1985).

Horsley, Richard Jesus and the Spiral of Violence: Popular Jewish Resistance in Roman Palestine (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993).

Klink III, Edward W. The Audience of the Gospels: The Origin and Function of the Gospels in Early Christianity (London: T & T Clark, 2010).

Maxwell, Kathy Hearing Between the Lines: The Audience as Fellow-Worker in Luke-Acts and its Literary Milieu (London: T & T Clark, 2010).

Soards, Marion Llyod Introductory article to The Gospel According to Luke in The New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).

Squires, John T. “The Gospel according to Luke” in The Cambridge Companion to the Gospels, ed., Stephen C. Barton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006)







       
    


[1] Some contemporary biblical scholars have even used this passage as an example of Lucan anti-Semitism.  This topic is examined by David L. Tiede in his essay “Fighting Against God: Luke’s Interpretation of Jewish Rejection of the Messiah Jesus,” in Anti-Semitism And Early Christianity: Issues of Polemic and Faith, edited by Craig A. Evans and Donald A. Hagner (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993).  Also, Mary Ann Fredrick discusses this and similar themes in her text Luke’s Portrayal of the Jews and Judaism in Luke-Acts and its Relationship to the Sources of Anti-Semitism (Florida: University of Florida Press, 1994).      
[2] Here the term prophetic should not be understood according to the modern definition of prophecy, which focuses on the prediction of future events. On the contrary, the terms prophecy, prophet, and prophetic are used according to the understanding found in the Old Testament, which emphasizes divinely inspired judgment and criticism with respect to human practices.  
[3] The term apolitical is not entirely appropriate, for the praxis and message of Jesus certainly suggests a particular temperament toward the socio-religious and political establishments contemporaneous with Jesus.  However, Jesus was not involved in the political machinations of the time like the Sadducees.  Nor was he involved in the power dynamics of the day in a manner similar to the ancient Jewish brigands.  (See Bandits, Prophets, and Messiahs: Popular Movements at the Time of Jesus [San Francisco: Harper and Row Publishers, 1988], and Jesus and the Spiral of Violence: Popular Jewish Resistance in Roman Palestine [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993] by Richard Horsley.  See also Redemption and Resistance: The Messianic Hopes of Jews and Christians in Antiquity [London: T&T Clark, 2009] edited by Markus Bockmuehl and James Carleton Paget.) In this sense, the term apolitical appears to be the most appropriate to describe Jesus.  
[4] Marion Llyod Soards, See the introductory article to The Gospel According to Luke in The New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 93 [New Testament].
[5] John T. Squires, “The Gospel according to Luke” in The Cambridge Companion to the Gospels, ed., Stephen C. Barton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 161.  
[6] David L. Balch “Luke,” in Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible, eds., James D. G. Dunn and John W. Rogerson (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdman’s Publishing Company, 2003), 1104.
[7] David Bolotin, “Thucydides” in History of Political Philosophy: Third Edition. eds., Leo Struass and Joseph Cropsey (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987), 31.  
[8] Ernst Breisach, Historiography: Ancient, Medieval, and Modern (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), 5-65.
[9] In his brief commentary article on Luke in the Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible, David L. Balch notes that “Luke-Acts have been understood as biography, novel, or ancient history.” (p. 1104)  Also, in his discussion of the literary characteristics of Luke’s gospel, John T. Squires notes that, like the other gospels, many scholars have attempted to claim that Luke is sui generis, not being similar enough to any other known literature of the time to merit any classification.
[10] John T. Squires, “The Gospel according to Luke” in The Cambridge Companion to the Gospels, ed., Stephen C. Barton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 158. 
[11] Ibid., 159-160.
[12] Kathy Maxwell, Hearing Between the Lines: The Audience as Fellow-Worker in Luke-Acts and its Literary Milieu (London: T & T Clark, 2010), 119-180.
[13] For one example of the debate regarding the character of the Gospel audience(s) one might read the book The Audience of the Gospels: The Origin and Function of the Gospels in Early Christianity (London: T & T Clark, 2010), edited by Edward W. Klink III.  This is the text of a symposium debate regarding the original recipients of the Christian Gospels, and additionally what constituted an authentic Gospel at the time.   
[14] Craig L. Blomberg, “The Gospels For Specific Communities and All Christians,” in The Audience of the Gospels: The Origin and Function of the Gospels in Early Christianity, ed., Edward W. Klink III (London: T & T Clark, 2010), 111-133.
[15] David L. Balch, “Luke” in Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible, eds., James D. G. Dunn and John W. Rogerson (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdman’s Publishing Company, 2003), 1104.
[16] Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann, trans. O. C. Dean Jr., The Jesus Movement: A Social History of its First Century (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999), 221.
[17] Richard Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 34-35.
[18] Ibid., 34.
[19] Richard Horsley and John S. Hanson, Bandits, Prophets, and Messiahs: Popular Movements at the Time of Jesus (San Francisco: Harper and Row Publishers, 1985), 8-10.
[20] Markus BockMuehl and James Carleton Paget, eds., Redemption and Resistance: The Messianic Hopes of Jews and Christians in Antiquity (London: T & T Clark, 2009), 1-61.
[21] Richard Horsley and John S. Hanson, Bandits, Prophets, and Messiahs: Popular Movements at the Time of Jesus (San Francisco: Harper and Row Publishers, 1985), 10-23.
[22] Ibid., 22. 
[23] Ibid., 118-134.
[24] J. Massyngbaerde Ford, My Enemy is My Guest: Jesus and Violence in Luke (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1984), 110-111.
[25] Ibid., 111.
[26] Ibid., 111.
[27] Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann, trans. O. C. Dean Jr., The Jesus Movement: A Social History of its First Century (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999), 172-173.
[28] Israel would experience both types of Roman rule, as the Romans began a more direct form of rule following the Jewish revolt of 66-70CE.
[29] Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann, trans. O. C. Dean Jr., The Jesus Movement: A Social History of its First Century (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999), 129-131.
[30] Ibid., 130-131.
[31] Richard Horsley, “Jesus and Empire” in In the Shadow of Empire: Reclaiming the Bible as a History of Faithful Resistance, ed., Richard Horsley (London: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 90.
[32] Ibid., 91.
[33] Richard Horsley, Jesus and Empire: The Kingdom of God and the New World Disorder (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003).
[34] Nicholas Wolterstorff, “Foreward” in Evangelicals and Empire: Christian Alternatives to the Political Status Quo, eds., Bruce Ellis Benson and Peter Goodwin Heltzel (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Brazos Press, 2008), 7-9.
[35] Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, Empire (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2000) and Multitude: War and Democracy in the Age of Empire (New York: Penguin Books, 2004).