When you make a life-long habit out of reading other people’s
mail, strange things tend to become commonplace.
I should probably unpack that a bit.
I’m enjoying the book of Hebrews once again, as I make
my way through the New Testament in my morning reading. But the problem with
having been acquainted with the scriptures since before I could read them
for myself (and it’s not the worst problem in the world to have) is that
arguments which should puzzle any modern, thinking, Gentile reader seem perfectly normal to me. My familiarity
with the passage makes it difficult for me to be surprised by it, though it should surely surprise me.
The sheer weirdness of the arguments made in the first three
chapters of Hebrews does not register until I deliberately and carefully try
to put myself in the shoes of somebody who didn’t go to Sunday School for
twelve or thirteen years, and who didn’t have the Bible read to him at home
every morning before school, and I pretend I am reading it for the very first time.
Inductive and Deductive Learning
For most of us who grew up in Christian homes, theology
precedes familiarity with the word of God itself. It kind of has to. There is
no real way as children that we could ever come to the scriptures for ourselves and
organically absorb their message from beginning to end, then arrive at our own
conclusions about what it means. We were simply too young. So we had most of the conclusions handed to us up
front. Even though any proper theology is arrived at inductively, by first reading all the data and then generalizing
about it, we Christian kids all got our generalizations first and our data
later. Our Bibles came to us backwards.
For example, any four-year old living in a modern Christian
home will tell you Jesus is God, and it is a great thing that he is able to do
so. But he didn’t learn that supremely significant truth from John 1:1 or
Hebrews 1:3. He didn’t work it out for himself. He learned it as a truism,
in the same way we were all told that 2+2=4. Later, as he reads the relevant
data — the word of God — for himself, he will find out where this
theological “generalization” about the nature of the Son comes from and on what
evidence it was established. He has learned a truth deductively rather than inductively. His theology preceded his
knowledge of the foundation on which his theology was originally built. The
generalization preceded the data which gave rise to the generalization.
Got that? Great.
The Bizarreness of Hebrews 1-3
Now, provided that the data legitimately supports the
conclusions we have made about it, that’s all well and good. There’s no real
way we could have learned about Jesus any differently. Somebody we trusted told
us something and we believed it. The evidence for what we believed came to us much,
much later.
This is true even if we memorized these verses at the age of
six and recited them dutifully for the adults in our lives. For us, they were
simply bits of received wisdom. We did not read them in context. We could not
possibly absorb them in their original languages, let alone understand the
logic that leads us to recognize their authority today. As children, we would
not have known what they meant at all unless someone had taken the time to
explain them to us in our own language and at our level.
All this is to point out how bizarre the arguments of Hebrews 1-3 should have first appeared to me if I had really paid attention to them. Here, the author of holy writ actually bothers to spend
two chapters arguing that Jesus is greater than angels, and the next arguing
that Jesus is greater than Moses. Well, of course! How could I possibly
think otherwise, since “Jesus is God” is a formula drilled into me since early
childhood? How could any mere man or spirit-servant compare to the incarnate
Word? Do these things even need to be stated?
Back to the Beginning
Well, yes, if you’re the original reader of Hebrews. To a
first century Jew, the supremacy of Jesus was no given. It was not taken for
granted at all.
Think about it. Hebrews was written more than thirty years
after the events described in the gospels, but before those gospels were fully circulated,
and long before they were compiled into what we now call the New Testament.
John’s gospel, with its blatant emphasis on the deity of Christ, had not yet
been written. The audience for Hebrews was then, for the most part, not old
enough to have experienced the ministry and miracles of Christ firsthand, but still
close enough to those events to know they were indisputably historic, and that
the humanity of Jesus was established beyond question.
The original Hebrew audience was also steeped in the Law of
Moses in a way we are not and could never have been. Along with Abraham and
David, Moses meant something to a first century Jew that he could never mean to
you or me. Could Moses be greater than other men? Of course. He gave the nation
their law. He brought them out of Egypt. Might Moses be greater than all other men a Jew might consider? Very
possibly. For a first century Jew on the fence about the role of Jesus of
Nazareth in the plans and purposes of God for his nation, the position asserted
in the third chapter of Hebrews — that a crucified Nazarene is not only greater
than Moses but in another exalted category altogether — was more than
debatable; his orthodox Jewish friends considered the statement blasphemous,
and persecuted the heretics who asserted it to the death.
Hebrews and Angels
And angels? No wonder they warrant two chapters. It is
evident the writer to the Hebrews has not bothered to direct his argument for
the supremacy of Christ toward Sadducees, a prominent religious sect who
did not acknowledge angels at all. Either there were no Sadducees among the
Jews addressed in Hebrews, or else, having become converts to Christ, they were
already convinced of the existence of angels (and, more importantly,
resurrection), and were now ex-Sadducees. The Hebrews argument is very
obviously directed squarely at believers from the Pharisaic tradition, for whom
angels were a very big deal indeed.
Like Moses, the Law was intimately associated with angels.
Moses spoke of “ten
thousands of holy ones” at Sinai. David says
the same, making reference to their “chariots” and great numbers. Stephen
referred to a law “delivered
by angels”. Paul says the same to the Galatians, referring to a law “put in
place through
angels by an intermediary”. The writer to the Hebrews says the law’s message was “declared
by angels”. There is no good reason to suspect the original readers of
Hebrews would have disagreed with him. His argument to them for the greatness
of Christ and the greatness of their responsibility to hear him depends on them
both believing in and greatly respecting angelic power. When God spoke in times
past, he often delivered his message through angels.
But it is not just the Law with which angels were associated
in the Old Testament. Daniel speaks of angelic protection assigned to Israel.
The archangel Michael is called “the
great prince who has charge of your people”. Messianic prophecy refers to “ten
thousands of his holy ones” as
early as Enoch.
Superior to Angels
Here again, for a first century Jew not entirely convinced
of the deity of Jesus, the argument in the first two chapters of Hebrews —
that Jesus is “as much superior
to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs” —
was something he might sincerely have to stop and reflect on. It was not a
matter for automatic assent.
For first century Jews, the conclusion about the supremacy
of Jesus Christ which we take for granted on the basis of our childhood
theology was not anywhere near so obvious as it is to us. The writer to the
Hebrews very much needed to assert it in the strongest possible terms, and show
it to be the case from the established Hebrew scriptures which Jews regarded as
the final word on orthodoxy.
For you and me, the outrageousness of these chapters is lost
entirely. We have come not just to accept the doctrine taught here for
ourselves, but to assume it so automatically that we might wonder why the
writer to the Hebrews stops to make the argument at all.
But there was a time when the obvious had to be stated
because the obvious was ... not obvious. We ought to be grateful for the
truths we so easily take for granted, and remind ourselves that the ease with which we believe any given text in scripture very much depends on the assumptions we bring to it.
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