Mark 14:66-73: Trial #2 (Peter’s Trial)

July 18, 2012

Peter followed Jesus, albeit distantly and cautiously.  Nevertheless, unlike other disciples (including the “young man”) in Mark’s narrative, Peter did follow. The weight of his earlier adamant insistence that he would die with Jesus as well as his natural impetuousness emboldens him to warm himself at the same fire where the guards, who arrested Jesus and would shortly torture him, sat .

The Sanhedrin, due to the early morning predawn hours as well as its secrecy, had convened at the high priest’s home.

The setting is important because it shapes the narrative in a dramatic way. Just as Peter followed Jesus into courtyard of the hight priest’s house where it would be obvious what was happening, he slowly extricates himself from the situation by movement out of the house.  His three denials are portrayed as three steps away from Jesus. Mark emphasizes that last step by Peter’s own insistent denial.

Number Place Accuser Testimony Response
1st Denial Courtyard Servant Girl “You were with Jesus” Denied it!
2nd Denial Gateway Girl to Bystanders “He is one of them” Denied it!
3rd Denial Gateway Bystanders “You are a Galilean” Self-Imprecation

The accusers identify Peter as a disciple of Jesus. He was “with Jesus” of Nazareth. He was “one of (ek) them” (repeated twice!)—he belonged to the community of disciples that followed Jesus. He was a Galilean rather than a Jerusalemite—he came from the region where the trouble started.

Peter, the most adamant follower of Jesus—perhaps even the one you would most likely say he would never betray him, denied Jesus three times. At first his denial is seemingly a lighthearted dismissal of the accusation: “I do not know or understand what you are talking about.” It is a deflection, but he feels the heat. He backs away from the fire (literally and figuratively) to the gate. Perhaps he thinks he might need to make a quick exit.

At the gate the servant girl renews the accusation with a more specific identifier, but this time she tells others about Peter rather than talking to Peter directly. Peter was not only “with” Jesus (some kind of general association perhaps), but he was “one of them.” He belonged to that group. He is a disciple, a follower! Peter denied it and presumably Mark wants us to think that he denied it in a similar way. Peter is still deflecting. He is struggling to confess his faith but as yet he is not yet in full denial.

The third occasion, however, evokes a tirade from Peter. The bystanders repeat the second accusation of the servant girl and they do so with emphasis.  “Certainly” (truly!), they broadcast, “you are of (ek) them”—you belong to Jesus’ group, his circle of disciples. Peter then curses, swears and emphatically denies. This is different from the first two. There is no deflection here; there is no lawyer-speak. It is an explicit disclaimer with a self-imprecation (he anathematizes himself). His “curse” is not the four-letter variety but a self-condemnation. “If I am lying,” he essentially says, “may God send me to Hell.” He swears that it is true with an anathema. “If I am lying, may I be cursed!”

Then the cock crowed twice.

Then it dawned on Peter what had just happened.

And, falling apart, he wept.

Ever been there with Peter? Ever had a moment, an addiction, an obsession in which you were so caught up as in a vortex that you were not fully conscious of what you were doing and how it undermined everything you held dear? Sin—including compulsive addictions—can be so overwhelming that we act before we think. We act in the moment rather than from the depths of our commitments.  We react rather than respond. We deny when we should have confessed. We sin when we know better.

When it dawns on us that this is what we have done. We weep and feel the depths of a brokenness previously unrecognized. We see ourselves in a new way.

Perhaps we think that God could never use us again. Perhaps we think we are irreparable. Perhaps we imagine that our discipleship was only an illusion.

We are Peter and Peter is us. We often deny what we should confess but God retells the story of redemption through us nonetheless. Mark’s narrative is Peter’s story. Peter told it to him. It is a confession, yes, but it is also redemption.

4 Comments | Biblical Texts | Tagged: , , , , | Permalink
Posted by John Mark Hicks

Zechariah 7:1-6: Why Do You Fast?

March 1, 2012

On December 7, 518 BCE, almost two years after Zechariah’s eight visions on February 15, 519 assure Judah that the temple will be rebuilt (Zechariah 1:7) and two years before the dedication of the temple on March 12, 516 (Ezra 6:15-18), a delegation from Bethel comes to Jerusalem to ask Yahweh a question. They ask the “priests of the house of the Lord Almighty and the prophets.” Zechariah answers.

Bethel, it should be remembered, was a rival worship center during the Divided Kingdom. The city, which hosted a “temple of the kingdom” for Israel, had once excluded the prophets of Yahweh, but now comes to Jerusalem to seek a word from Yahweh. Amos 7:10-16 records the occasion when Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, petitioned Jeroboam II to send the prophet Amos back to Judah. Now, however, representatives from Bethel come to Jerusalem to seek an answer from Yahweh.

Unlike other characters in Zechariah’s oracles, the Bethel representatives have Babylonian names. Perhaps they, too, are recent returnees from exile. Whatever the origin, their names symbolize their inquiry. Their question is about lament, mourning and fasting. Given that some have returned to the land and the temple is almost complete, should the people continue to fast? Should they continue their exilic mourning practices? In other words, is the exile over? Are our sins forgiven? Has God returned?

Exilic fasting rituals were extensive as Judah lamented its losses and mourned its sin. One third of the year was spent in lament—four of the twelve months were dedicated to fasting (Zechariah 8:19). Each month was connected to an experience in the history of the fall of Jerusalem and the subjugation of Judah. The chart below provides the links (Boda, NIV Application Commentary: Haggai, Zechariah, p. 357).

Month

 Event

Reference
Tenth (588) Beginning of the Siege ofJerusalem 2 Kgs 25:1; Jer 39:1
Fourth (587) JerusalemWalls Breached 2 Kgs 25:3-7; Jer 52:6-11
Fifth (587) JerusalemDestroyed 2 Kgs 25:8-12; Jer 52:12-16
Seventh (587) Governor Gedaliah Assassinated 2 Kgs 25:25-26; Jer 41:1-3

Exiled Judah had mourned the loss of Jerusalem and the temple for almost seventy years which was the number Jeremiah (25:11-12; 29:10), the Chronicler (2 Chronicles 36:21) and Daniel (9:2) say represented the exile. Fasting was probably a daytime fast—between dawn and sunset throughout the whole month. They were anticipating the potential end of the fasts on the fifth month of 517. Should Judah continue to fast since the seventy years are essentially over?

Zechariah responds to the question with four oracles. Each is distinguished from the other by the phrase “the word of the Lord came to Zechariah (me).”

• Why did you fast? (Zechariah 7:4-7)
• Are you still socially irresponsible like your fathers? (Zechariah 7:8-14)
• Will not Yahweh return to dwell in Jerusalem again? (Zechariah 8:1-17)
• Will not the remnant feast rather than fast? (Zechariah 8:18-23)

Yahweh responds to their question with a question: “When you fasted and mourned…for the past seventy years, was it really for me that you fasted?” The question is also extended to their eating and drinking. When they fasted during the daylight hours and then ate in the evening, why did they maintain this ritual? Who was their focus? What was their focus?

It is important to notice how Zechariah redirects the question. Bethel asks Zechariah, but he asks them to seek an answer from “all the people of the land and the priests.” This may seem like a rather general way of speaking, that is, “ask everybody” but it is more focused. Ezra 4:4, for example, uses the phrase “people of the land” to refer to those who remained in Judah during the exile. The priests are those who administer justice. This might allude to the problem of ownership, land titles and social injustice (cf. Ezekiel 11:14-17 for an illustration).

Zechariah’s question is an accusation. Those practicing injustice fasted but they did so for their own sakes rather than for Yahweh. It was not a sign of repentance. Rather, the exile became an occasion for exploitation. They continued the practices of their fathers (cf. Zechariah 7:9-10) as they took advantage of the poor and oppressed.

Yahweh has seen this before, and the earlier prophets spoke on the same point. There was an earlier time when the Negev (the southern region of Judah) and the Shephelah (the western rolling hills of Judah) were settled and prosperous, when Jerusalem itself was at rest. Though at peace, the rulers and wealthy pursued injustice instead of loving their neighbors (cf. Jeremiah 7:5-7).

Ritual fasting does not mask economic injustice. True fasting is to love your neighbor—to feed the hungry and clothe the naked (Isaiah 58:6-8). Self-centered ritualistic fasting evokes God’s rebuke but the self-denial of sharing with the poor receives God’s commendation.

So, why do you fast?

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Posted by John Mark Hicks

Job 8: Bildad Takes a Stab at Job

September 16, 2011

Whatever God does is just. God destroyed your life. Therefore, you deserved it.  That is a summary of Bildad’s response to Job’s harrowing lament and plea for wisdom as well as sympathy from his friends in Job 6-7. The hidden premise is that God only destroys the life of the wicked. Somebody, somewhere sinned.

With shocking pastoral insensitivity Bildad blames Job’s children for their own demise (8:4).

When your children sinned against him, he gave them over to the penalty of their sin.

Bildad applies the doctrine of retribution to Job’s children (8:2-7). As readers we know that the sins of the children had nothing–in terms of the Prologue–to do with their deaths. Even more Job had religiously sacrificed for their sins, but–in Bildad’s mind–to no effect. Bildad clearly sees the “justice” of God (8:3). It has to make sense to him; there must be a just, rational explanation for the death of children. That round peg has to fit into the square hole Bildad has been given it.

Bildad extends Eliphaz’s theme, the datum of his visionary experience (4:17).  Can a person be more righteous/pure than God?  God does not pervert righteousness/justice (8:3) and if Job will turn again to righteousness/purity, then God will make his ending better than his beginning (8:5).

Bildad, therefore, like Eliphaz before him, holds out some hope for Job.

If….if….if…you will do better, Job; if you will become more righteous; if you will repent; “if you will look to God and plead with the Almighty,” “if you are pure and upright,” then God, “even now,” will “restore you to your rightful place.” “Your beginnings,” Bildad promises, “will seem humble, so prosperous will your future be” (Job 8:5-7).  Job could possibly expect–if he repents–”laughter” and “joy” once again while the “tents of the wicked” disappear (Job 8:20-22).

Between the two exhortations to repent (8:5-7 and 8:20-22), our friendly theologian–based on the wisdom of the ages–points to the fragility of those who “forget God” (8:13). They are fragile because they trust in what is fragile. They wither and die like rootless plants or blow away like houses built by spiders. They have no hope (8:13).

Bildad’s closing “wisdom” is particularly problematic from Job’s standpoint.  According to Bildad, God does not “reject a blameless person or strengthen the hands of evildoers” (8:20). How ironic!  Job is “blameless”, at least according to the Prologue (1:1,8; 2:3), which uses the same Hebrew word. And it was God who put Job into the satan’s hands as well (1:12; 2:6). God, in fact, did strengthen the hands of the one who attacked Job.

So, there are two choices; there are only two scenarios in Bildad’s mind. Bildad confirms God’s quid pro quo arrangement with humanity and encourages Job to embrace the profit of righteous living. Life is about equity and fairness–God will treat us just as we deserve. If we sin, he will condemn us. If we are pure, he will bless us. It’s that simple, right?

Job does not think so.

Moreover, in the framework of this poetic drama, if Job follows Bildad’s wisdom, then the satan was right after all–human beings are only interested in profit. Job will repent to get back his life even when he thinks he is innocent.

But Job won’t do that.

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Posted by John Mark Hicks

Two Stories: Humanity’s Foolish Detour (SBD 5)

May 13, 2009

[Note: I am attempting to keep these SBD installments under 2000 words each, but that is--of course--quite inadequate for the topics covered. Consequently, these contributions are more programmatic than they are explanatory or defenses of the positions stated. You may access the whole series at my Serial page.]

God partners with humanity as divine representatives within the shalom-filled creation, but humanity–and creation with it–degenerates through a series of crises.

Created and crowned with glory and honor as royal creatures within the creation, humanity chose a different route to the divine nature than God intended. While God invited humanity to share divine communion and gave them the status of divine imagers within the creation, humanity wanted more. We wanted to be God and consequently we created our own story within the creation.

Rejecting God’s offer to share the “divine nature” with the Creator (2 Peter 1:4), we pursued our own agenda to embrace the divine and created our own gods (ranging from idols of stone and wood to the contemporary gods of money, power and sex).

The Divine Image

Fundamentally, the “image of God” (Genesis 1:26-31) is “godlikeness.” This is unique to humanity among God’s creatures (Genesis 5:1-2; 9:6) which affirms the dignity and worth all humans. But it also limits humanity because the image is not the thing in itself. It is, in some respects, unlike the original. We are not God, but we are the image of God.

But what is this “image”? There are, generally, three primary ways of understanding it.

1. Substantive — The image is identified as some definite characteristic or quality within the makeup of the human (e.g., rationality, personality, morality, spirituality, etc.). The locus of the image is within human nature; it is a quality, substance or capacity resident in our nature or even inherent in our ontology.

2. Relational – The image is identified with the quality of experiencing relationships (e.g., relationship with God, male/female relationships, social relationships, etc.). The image is displayed as humanity lives in particular relationships. That relationship is the image. It mirrors God’s communion and God’s own relational ontology.

3. Functional (Dynamic) — The image consists in something that humanity does; the function it performs (e.g., stewardship, partnership with God, “dominion” over the earth, etc.). The image is not something present in the makeup of human nature nor is it the experience of relationship. Humanity is God’s representative on earth as a vice-regent and shares the divine mission regarding the creation. This is humanity’s honor and glory (Psalm 8).

I understand the “image of God” broadly, inclusive of all of the above. Humanity is substantively invested with gifts that enable us to live in relationship with others and to serve the function God has invested in it. The image of God is not one thing but the reality that we are divine icons who resemble and represent God within the creation. Understood in this way, the idea is pervasively present within the story of Scripture from “be holy for I am holy” to “be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect” to “imitate me as I imitate Christ.” We mirror God in substance, relationality and function.

Humanity is forbidden to make “images” (idols) of God. Those images have no “breath” in them (Habakkuk 2:19; Jeremiah 10:14; 51:17). God has no humanly made image, because God has already made the image he desired, that is, humanity as male and female. God does not need an image because we are the image of God.

The image of God, however, is fully revealed in Jesus who “is the image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15; 2 Corinthians 4:4; Hebrews 1:3). He becomes the fountainhead of a new humanity. Whereas the old humanity in Adam bears his likeness with an earthy natural body characterized by dust, the new humanity in Christ bears his likeness with a heavenly spiritual body energized by the Spirit (Genesis 5:2; Philippians 3:21; 1 Corinthians 15:42-49). Our original human identity is restored and renewed in Christ.

Ontologically, humans have always retained their identity as images of God (divine representatives) and thus were entitled to dignity and respect (James 3:9). But the human detour through sin and death transformed that image from full color to a dark negative which needed renewal in the image of God (Ephesians 4:24; Colossians 3:10). The process of re-colorification begins with our spiritual renewal and ends with our eschatological glorification in the resurrection of the body (Romans 8:29-30).

Human Vocation

Humans were not only designed to represent God within the creation, they were designed to commune with God, to enjoy God. They were intended to share the divine nature through the divine image which stamped their nature, role and function. This is the human vocation, our human identity, that is, to live in communion with and partner with God in the management, development and care of the creation. Communion with God entails a divine vocation.

The mission of God (missio Dei) is to dynamically mature and develop the creation into the fullness of the divine intent. The human vocation is to share the divine task within creation. Humans are co-rulers and co-creators. They partner with God for the sake of the divine mission. God has invested in humanity a glory and a responsibility as divine representatives in the world.

The good creation was not complete at creation but only beginning. The creation would, according to the divine intent, emerge and grow into a maturity fitted for the eschatological dwelling place of the Triune God. Humans, too, would mature as diverse cultures emerged and technologies developed. God glories in both natural and human diversity. Humans who live near the Arctic Circle live differently and develop a different culture than those who live near the equator. Since God determined that the whole earth be inhabited (Isaiah 45:18-19), God intended this diversity, values it, and rejoices in it.

This involves every aspect of human life. The arts (music, literature, art) are expressions of human creativity as we image God and enjoy what is created. Technology manages resources, medicine serves wholeness, and social structures shape community. These are part of the human vocation, our partnership with God, as co-rulers and co-creatures within the creation.

A Rival Story Emerges

The human story took a detour. What were intended as expressions of the divine task given to humanity became modes of reversing the divine intent. Technology polluted the earth, social structures oppressed the weak, and the arts fostered human self-centeredness.

This detour is described in Genesis 3-11. God invested humanity with the freedom to choose between the “tree of life” and the “tree of knowledge of good and evil.” It was a choice between life and death, between partnering with God and autonomy. The episode in the garden of God’s temple (creation) symbolizes the plotline within God’s story of the fundamental choice human beings have between humility and pride (Psalm 138:6; Proverbs 18:12; James 4:6; 1 Peter 5:5), between covenant with God or independence (cf. Deuteronomy 30:19; Joshua 24:15; John 7:17; Matthew 23:37).

The detour is not simply about the “fall” in the Garden but about the emergence of a rival story throughout Genesis 3-11. Evil grows in the story and fills the earth to such a point God destroys it through the Noahic flood. But even that cleansing did not deter humans from their own agenda. The story climaxes in the building of the Tower of Babel where the agenda of God’s creation is turned on its head. While God’s self-deliberation resulted in the creation of humanity (“let us create…”) in Genesis 1, the human self-deliberation resulted in the erection of a tribute to human arrogance and the desire to reach the heavens, that is, to become like God (“let us build….”). Humanity wanted to build their own city as a testimony to their autonomy. From Genesis 3 to Genesis 11 humanity degenerated into a broken, fallen and depraved image of God.

This degenerative process structurally uprooted God’s creative intent. The relationship between God and humanity was severed (e.g., expelled from the Garden), the relationship between male and female was distorted (e.g., husbands would now “rule” their wives), social relationships were deformed into relationships of power, abuse and violence (e.g., Cain and its aftermath), and the relationship between humanity and the cosmos became hostile (e.g., death). This degeneration was the “vandalism of Shalom” (Plantinga). It perverted the goodness of creation and stripped humanity of any power to defeat the enemy they had embraced.

The creation, however, was not without grace. Adam and Eve lived to bear children. Seth introduced a new line of humanity distinct from Cain. Enoch walked with God in the midst of a broken universe. Noah found grace in God’s eyes. And God would call Abraham in Genesis 12. God continued to pursue humanity and he did not forsake his purpose.

Sin

Though the word is rarely used in Genesis 3-11, sin emerges as a power within humanity as if it were an alien force. The dynamic of that power is larger than humanity itself and looking from the end of the God’s drama we see that power was demonic and Satanic. It became part of the “elements of the cosmos” itself. This does not mean that the creation became evil but that the creation was subjugated to the reign of evil powers.

Human choice, permitted by God’s will, gave that power to the chaotic and demonic elements within the cosmos. Humanity listened to the wrong voice. They chose sin and sin became a power within the human psyche; it became “second nature” to humanity. It is our “sinful nature” or sarx. The human condition degenerated into depravity and God gave humanity over to its desire (Romans 1:18-32). Sin reigned as a power within humanity and humanity was powerless to dethrone it (Romans 7).

Theologians have debated for centuries what the essence of sin is. The suggestions are wide-ranging, including disobedience, rebellion, pride, anxiety, law-breaking, idolatry and unbelief. Many of these metaphors are legal in character, others are introspective. But I tend to think that sin’s fundamental problem is relational.

The essence of sin, as Grenz argues, is the failure to image God. We were created as the glory of God, that is, to image God, and we have fallen short of that glory (Romans 3:23). We have missed the mark. We have failed to represent God in the world. Instead, through rebellious pride, we have asserted our own agenda. Sin is anything that fails to mirror God’s vocation, character and intent in the world. This includes individual but also social actions and structures which depress or subvert the divine agenda. Sin is not only personal but social; sin is not merely an individual act but a structural reality and dominating power in the world.

So What?

Every human person has intrinsic value and dignity. Our status as divine imagers is both our identity and vocation, and this gives worth to every human life. This is the root of a healthy self-esteem as well as the ground of a human rights ethic.

God intended change; he intended his creation to emerge, evolve and develop. Nature evolved, human society developed, and cultures emerged. The richness and diversity of the creation in all its biological forms is a testimony to God’s manifold wisdom. Just as God, humanity enjoys this diversity and learns about itself through the diverse expressions of human culture.

The human adventure is a fundamental conflict between two stories. One story humbly participates in the divine agenda but the other story arrogantly creates its own agenda. It is a contrast between humility and pride. Human conceit empowered evil in the world and rooted it in the fabric of the cosmos. The kingdom of God became the kingdom of Satan but intends to reverse that sad fact.

The human predicament is mixed. The divine image is present but blackened. The human vocation is intact but distorted. Humans are powerless to renew, restore or redeem the broken creation without divine grace. But God is present in the creation to redeem—present in Seth, Enoch, Noah…and ultimately Abraham. God has not forsaken his purposes and his intent will not be frustrated.

14 Comments | Theology | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Permalink
Posted by John Mark Hicks

Brokenness – Confessing Sin

August 29, 2008

“I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me” (Psalm 51:3)

“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed” (James 5:16).

Where in the Christian community do we feel safe confessing sin?

In tragedy, people tend to surround the hurting even if after a period of time the cards, visits, phone calls, emails, etc. taper off.

In sin, people tend to run for the hills even when there is remorse and repentance.

If we feel uncomfortable sympathizing with the grieving, we feel even more so sitting with confessors. We are much more likely to visit the griever than the sinner, to spend time with the mourner than the fallen.

Perhaps we are uncomfortable with the grieving because we fear the pain of grief–we fear that it might happen to us. Perhaps we are distant with the sinner because we know ourselves too well. We know that we, too, are sinners. To sit with a confessor is to come dangerously close to recognizing and even confessing our own sins.

Confessing the “little” sins, admitting our “minor” faults, and exposing our vulnerability at superficial levels is difficult enough for most of us. How “in heaven’s name” could we ever confess deeper sins, our root sins, when we are so afraid to acknowledge our smallest inadequacies? How can we really confess our materialism? How can we really our own judgmentalism? How can we really confess bigotry and our debilitating resentments? How can we really confess our hypocrisy?

Why are we afraid to confess? I know I am often afraid to confess my sins.

We fear the loss of relationships and friends. Will people shun us when we confess our sins?

We fear the loss of reputation and status. How will people look at us when they know our sin? What will they think about us?

We fear that people really won’t love us if they really know us. Will they love me even when they know the worst about me?

We fear gossip. Who will they tell?  What will they do with that knowledge? 

We fear vulnerability.  We don’t want people to know our deepest, darkest secrets. Will they love me when they know me?

We need a “safe” place to confess our sins with “safe” people. We need mutual confession where a “safe” environoment can be created. We need to experience mutual vulnerability. We need a place where we are loved no matter what and we love no matter what.

Where in the church does that exist?  The public assembly?  I think not.  Small groups? Rarely have I seen small groups go so deep.  Covenant groups? It takes lots of time but it does happen there. But rarely does it exist in covenanted marriages much less covenant men’s or women’s groups.  But I have seen it in places and at times and I have experienced its grace as well as given grace in those moments. 

It can happen; but it is all too rare in my own experience. The rarity makes sense to me. Fear hinders us and, unfortuantely, the community of God has hindered us at times with judgmentalism, hypocrisy, and its own fear. 

Where I have seen it most unfortunately is not in the “church” community, but in 12-step groups of various kinds. Many testify to the acceptance, encouragement, mutuality and empowerment of those meetings. 

If we don’t have a “safe” place to confess our sins, my guess is that we won’t confess them at all.  And if we don’t confess them at all, then we delude ourselves into thinking our sins are not so bad, we can manage or control them, and others don’t measure up to our rectitude.

That is unhealthy, damaging and destructive .  It is self-deceiving and self-righteous. Yet is where many of us have lived or still live.

We all need a “safe” place, a loving community, to confess our sins.  Keeping our sins in the darkness only means that we ourselves remain in the dark. If we confess our sins within a loving community by the light of God’s own presence, God’s love forgives, comforts and transforms as we are surrounded by those through whom God’s presence becomes real in the midst of our darkness. By confession we experience the light.

“If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).

17 Comments | Pastoral Care, Spirituality | Tagged: , , , , | Permalink
Posted by John Mark Hicks

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