The opening poem is beautifully crafted and memorable. It is probably the most well-known part of Ecclesiastes. It has a lyrical quality which The Byrds used in their 1965 hit, “Turn! Turn! Turn!”
The poem articulates the extremes of human existence from birth to death, from love to hate, from mourning to dancing, from peace to war. Life “under the sun” is filled with both, and there is no escape from its reality.
Many find comfort in the words of the poem. By its very nature, poetry may have many levels of meaning, and it may be appropriated in different ways. The situation of the reader will shape how it is heard, and this is part of the point as poetry draws out and speaks our emotions.
What I find striking is that the Teacher (or Qoheleth) is frustrated by the poem. The teacher’s response is basically, “What’s the use?” or “What’s the point?” Life goes round and round, cycling from one extreme to another. There does not seem to be any profit in how life plays out. Qoheleth’s response to the poem is the same as the opening question of the book, “What do people gain from all the toil at which they toil under the sun?” (1:3).
Life feels like a burden that makes no sense. It is frustrating.
Qoheleth expresses this frustration by recognizing that God has put “eternity” (הָעֹלָם֙) in our hearts. Whatever that may mean, God has given humanity a sense of time, “a sense of past and future” (NRSV), that in our present human experience is beyond our wisdom. We can’t figure it out. We “cannot find out what God has done from beginning to the end.”
Nevertheless, the Teacher believes God “has made everything suitable (or fitting) for its time.” I wish I knew exactly what that means. It does not seem to me that everything that happens is “suitable,” much less “beautiful” as some translations.
Today, as we remember Seth, we have many questions. We don’t understand how it is fitting for death to invade the life of the Fletchers when their son, husband, father, and brother passes suddenly and unexpectedly in his sleep at the age of forty-six.
With Qoheleth, the poem does not offer much comfort but raises many questions. It seems to me that the poem is more like a protest and a submissive acknowledgement. Even The Byrds used it to protest the Vietnam War as the last line in the lyric is “A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late.” It is not, in effect, a time for war.
Neither is 46 years a time for death. Seth’s death is a question mark. It does not make sense. Or, as Qoheleth would say, it is vanity (hebel, הֶ֖בֶל); it is an enigma, or perhaps even absurd. It is the brevity of life, and this it burden we must bear.
So, our lament, our pain and our hurt are shared by the Teacher, and it is shared by the Psalmists of Israel where almost half of the Psalms are lament. They are filled with questions like “How long?” (Psalm 13:1-2) or “Why?” (Psalm 88:14). The life of faith is filled with frustrations as life continuously cycles from birth to death, mourning to dancing, love to hate, and peace to war.
Nevertheless, the Teacher is resolute. His response to this frustration is determined and purposeful. The Teachers affirms some fundamental truths about life.
First, Qoheleth says, “I know there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil.”
Today we have been immersed in Seth’s “toil.” He was a musician, professor, and husband and father. We have listened to the music he loved and played. We have heard stories of his love for family, even to the point of letting go of his career to homeschool his son and empower his wife to pursue her musical career in a military band.
This was Seth’s joy, and it was God’s gift to him. Seth found pleasure in his toil, in his music. He created beauty, created joy in the hearts of his audiences, and encouraged others to pursue the creative art of music. Seth knew something of what our Teacher expresses here—to enjoy life with God’s gifts.
Second, Qoheleth says, “I know that whatever God does endures forever.”
Love lasts forever; it is God’s own identity. Joy also lasts forever; it is God’s intent for humanity.
God was at work in Seth’s life, and what Seth created and shared with the world will endure because his love and joy will overflow again and again in the hearts of those who knew him and through his mentorship, care, and love for others. The joy and beauty of his music as a gift of God will endure forever.
This is the root of hope. The cycles of life is often frustrating, but God is at work in those cycles. God is making, creating, and acting in ways that are beyond us, beyond our discovery.
Perhaps in faith we might confess, “Yes, it is ‘fitting’—perhaps even ‘beautiful’”—while, at the same time, we cry out, “I believe, Lord; help my unbelief.”
Today we embrace hope, as Seth himself did. As he wrote, hope last forever. It will work, if we give our hearts space for God’s own working of hope in our lives.
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Spirit.” Romans 15:13
La Cena del Señor es una comida evangélica: “el evangelio en pan y vino.”[1] En consecuencia, su significado y sus dimensiones son tan variados como el evangelio mismo. Es un prisma que refracta la luz del evangelio de múltiples maneras, como un caleidoscopio de significados.
La naturaleza multidimensional de la Cena del Señor se percibe rápidamente a través de los motivos comunes que suelen utilizar las liturgias, los teólogos y los predicadores. La idea popular de que la Cena del Señor mira hacia arriba, hacia afuera, hacia adentro, hacia atrás y hacia adelante refleja esta perspectiva. O, de forma más formal, William Robinson, uno de los teólogos sacramentales más importantes del Movimiento Stone-Campbell, resume la Cena como conmemoración, proclamación, pacto, comunión y banquete.[2] Más recientemente, Andrew Paris, dentro de la tradición Stone-Campbell, resumió su significado en cuatro “C”: conmemoración, confesión, comunión y pacto.[3] Bryon Lambert, también perteneciente al Movimiento Stone-Campbell, identificó diez aspectos: obediencia, recuerdo, acción de gracias, proclamación, profecía, pacto, altar, autoexamen, comunión y celebración.[4] O, en una de las contribuciones más recientes provenientes de círculos evangélicos, Gordon Smith organiza su presentación en torno a los temas del recuerdo, la comunión, el perdón, la alianza, el sustento, la acción de gracias, la anticipación y la presencia.[5] O, desde una perspectiva ecuménica, el documento de Lima de 1982 del Consejo Mundial de Iglesias, titulado Bautismo, Eucaristía y Ministerio, define el significado de la Eucaristía como acción de gracias al Padre, conmemoración de Cristo, invocación del Espíritu, comunión de los fieles y banquete del reino.[6]
Dada su naturaleza multidimensional, es imposible ofrecer una reflexión teológica exhaustiva en un breve ensayo como este. Por lo tanto, me centraré en una dimensión específica de la Cena del Señor que ha recibido escasa atención en siglos anteriores dentro del cristianismo occidental, pero que ha cobrado mayor relevancia en el siglo XX. Sin embargo, aún no ha influido lo suficiente en la teología ni ha moldeado la práctica de la iglesia contemporánea. Mi intención es explorar el aspecto escatológico de la Cena del Señor.
En su séptimo acuerdo, la declaración de Oberlin sobre Fe y Orden de 1957 reconoció que “existe una creciente conciencia de la naturaleza escatológica de la Eucaristía.”[7] En los casi cincuenta años transcurridos desde aquel reconocimiento, varios autores han explorado las dimensiones escatológicas de la Cena del Señor.[8] La obra más importante, y quizás la principal responsable del resurgimiento del interés en este tema, es “Eucaristía y escatología” de Wainwright, publicada en 1971.[9]
Basándome en este auge de debate, reflexionaré sobre la naturaleza escatológica de la Cena del Señor. En primer lugar, contextualizaré la importancia del pensamiento escatológico, contrastándolo con discusiones previas, particularmente en el contexto de la tradición Stone-Campbell. En segundo lugar, examinaré los pasajes eucarísticos en Lucas-Hechos como una forma de adentrarnos en el mundo escatológico del Nuevo Testamento. En tercer lugar, ofreceré algunas sugerencias sobre la relevancia de la escatología eucarística para el pensamiento y la práctica contemporáneos.
Contexto histórico
El libro de Wainwright introdujo una nueva perspectiva en la historia del pensamiento eucarístico. Mientras que la teología y los estudios históricos anteriores se centraban en la ontología (la presencia de Cristo), el sacrificio y la recepción individual, Wainwright aportó una visión relativamente novedosa para interpretar la historia del pensamiento y la liturgia cristianos. Destacó la dimensión escatológica de la Cena del Señor.[10] Según su opinión, la reflexión escatológica, aunque presente en las primeras liturgias y representada ocasionalmente en toda la Iglesia occidental, ha estado notablemente ausente.
Si bien los temas escatológicos están presentes en los textos bíblicos y en los primeros relatos de martirio, estos fueron eclipsados por los desarrollos teológicos e institucionales. Wainwright sostiene que el auge del cristianismo bajo los emperadores cristianos del siglo IV “condujo a una valoración más positiva de la época presente”. La integración en las estructuras políticas y sociales conllevó “una pérdida de conciencia” de que la Iglesia era “testigo del reino venidero“.”[11] Esto vino acompañado de “la creciente influencia de una escatología ‘vertical’ e individualizada, revestida con los colores de un misticismo platonizante.”[12] La combinación de estos dos acontecimientos, entre otros, supuso que la escatología, por un lado, se redujera a la salvación individual futurista y, por otro, se perdiera prácticamente al identificarse el reino de Dios con la Iglesia institucional. La Eucaristía dejó de ser una comida del reino escatológico para convertirse en un culto institucional identificado con la Ciudad de Dios en la tierra, a través del cual los individuos experimentaban la salvación y una relación mística —e incluso individual— con Dios.
La pérdida de la escatología del reino dio a la teología eucarística una visión miope. La Iglesia se centró más en la vida terrenal de Jesús (especialmente en su papel de víctima, es decir, sacrificio y expiación) que en su regreso. La expectativa escatológica disminuyó a medida que la Iglesia se sentía más cómoda con su estatus constantiniano.[13] Sin un contexto escatológico, el enfoque de la Eucaristía se centró en la naturaleza de la presencia y el sacrificio de Cristo. La Eucaristía se convirtió en un sacrificio; la comida del reino se transformó en una comunión con la presencia de Cristo; y la mesa se convirtió en un altar. La Eucaristía pasó a ser una representación de la cruz y se centró casi exclusivamente en la muerte de Cristo.
La teología occidental ha participado generalmente en esta trayectoria. Incluso los reformadores protestantes mantuvieron el énfasis en el altar y el memorialismo, aunque rechazando o reinterpretando la imaginería sacrificial. La escatología estaba vagamente asociada con la Eucaristía, y principalmente solo en relación con la promesa de la parusía futura.
Sin embargo, hubo momentos de luz escatológica dentro de esta historia. John y Charles Wesley, por ejemplo, expresaron temas escatológicos en sus himnos y sermones.[14] Por ejemplo, sus himnos eucarísticos, si bien reflejan predominantemente la conmemoración del sufrimiento y la muerte de Cristo, también expresan algunos temas escatológicos. Su teología eucarística estuvo influenciada por la obra de Daniel Brevint de 1673, titulada The Christian Sacrament and Sacrifice,[15] y su himnario seguía el esquema de Brevint. En particular, aunque conmemoraban los sufrimientos de la cruz, enfatizaban la Cena del Señor como un medio de gracia, una promesa del cielo y “un sacrificio de nosotros mismos unidos a Cristo.”[16] Algunos himnos wesleyanos acentuaban la comunión de los santos, unidos con gratitud a la luz de la alegría escatológica. [17]
En general, sin embargo, la teología occidental se mantuvo inmersa en las tradiciones conmemorativas y presentistas del altar de la iglesia medieval. La tradición Stone-Campbell participó de esta tradición, pero con una pequeña diferencia. Si bien era conmemorativa y a veces enfatizaba la presencia espiritual de Cristo en el pan y el vino, el impulso original del Movimiento Stone-Campbell destacaba la metáfora de la mesa en lugar del altar. Como consecuencia, las primeras tradiciones enfatizaron el papel de Jesús como anfitrión en la mesa y la alegría de la comunión en torno a ella.[18]
El origen de este énfasis de Stone-Campbell se remonta al siglo XVII, cuando la Iglesia escocesa comenzó a celebrar “festivales de comunión” en mesas. Los participantes se sentaban en largas mesas como si estuvieran compartiendo una comida. Comían grandes porciones de pan y bebían vino, como si se tratara de un banquete. Con el tiempo, estos festivales se convirtieron en eventos de tres o cuatro días en los que cientos e incluso miles de personas comulgaban en las mesas. El avivamiento de Cane Ridge en agosto de 1801 fue concebido como un festival comunitario.[19]
En este contexto de festivales de comunión escoceses y el énfasis de los disidentes británicos en la centralidad y el carácter semanal de la comunión (en particular los glassitas, los sandemanianos y los hermanos Haldane), Alexander Campbell se centró en la “mesa”. Campbell argumentó tipológicamente que “en la casa de Dios siempre hay una mesa del Señor.”[20] Haciendo hincapié en la mesa semanal, negó toda distinción clerical y recomendó la alegría como el sentimiento principal en la mesa: “Todos los cristianos son miembros de la casa o familia de Dios, son llamados y constituidos un sacerdocio santo y real, y por lo tanto, pueden bendecir a Dios por la mesa del Señor, su pan y su copa, acercarse a ella sin temor y participar de ella con alegría tantas veces como lo deseen, en memoria de la muerte de su Señor y Salvador.”[21] De hecho, reprendió a los protestantes en general por su celebración carente de alegría, ya que su experiencia se asemejaba más a la de “dolientes” en una “casa de luto” que a la de quienes celebran en una casa de festejos. “La casa del Señor”, escribe, “es su lugar de banquete, y el día del Señor es su fiesta semanal”.”[22] La mesa era tan fundamental para Campbell que quiso sustituir el púlpito por ella. Su “casa de reunión” ideal no tendría púlpito, sino que “la mesa del Señor y los asientos para los ancianos de la congregación” estarían “en el extremo opuesto a la entrada”. Los discípulos reunidos se sentarían “inmediatamente junto a la mesa del Señor.”[23]
La centralidad de la mesa en el Movimiento Stone-Campbell fue un rasgo distintivo de esta tradición. Reunirse alrededor de la mesa era una práctica común, no solo una metáfora. Las mesas eran más importantes que los púlpitos. Cuando Moses Lard describió su iglesia ideal, la mesa se extendía “de un extremo a otro del edificio”, y todos se reunían a su alrededor y participaban de pie, como señal de reverencia.[24] Los domingos por la mañana se dedicaban a la comunión y la edificación mutua, mientras que los servicios vespertinos se centraban en la predicación evangelística. Si bien la renovación de la mesa formaba parte de la visión original, esta se perdió al centrarse en los elementos (pan con levadura o sin levadura, vino o jugo de uva), la frecuencia de la Cena (solo los domingos y todos los domingos) y el surgimiento de una clase de predicadores profesionales que desviaron la atención hacia el púlpito. Al perder el sentido de la mesa en la Cena, el movimiento adoptó la mentalidad histórica del “altar”. Aunque hablábamos de “la mesa del Señor”, poco en nuestras asambleas se parecía a una mesa. En cambio, la atmósfera, la función y la práctica de la Cena eran claramente propias de un “altar”.
Según la encuesta realizada por Paul M. Blowers y Byron C. Lambert, el significado de la Cena del Señor se entiende generalmente como un acto conmemorativo o como una presencia espiritual, características propias de las iglesias reformadas (calvinistas).[25] Dadas las raíces presbiterianas y bautistas escocesas-irlandesas de la tradición Stone-Campbell, esto no resulta sorprendente. Sin embargo, el memorialismo predominó. Alexander Campbell, por ejemplo, al ser cuestionado sobre la naturaleza exacta de la Cena del Señor, insistió en que era “conmemorativa”, un “recordatorio semanal” del perdón de los pecados. “No es”, escribió, “una ordenanza para recibir nuevas bendiciones, sino para conmemorar las ya recibidas.”[26]
La importancia central del acto conmemorativo queda bien ilustrada por el argumento de Christopher de que la Cena del Señor, como el “elemento central y principal del culto cristiano”, se fundamenta en el hecho de que la “expiación es el elemento central y principal del sistema de redención.”[27] La adoración en la iglesia es “retrospectiva”, ya que “la memoria rememora el gran acontecimiento por el cual el alma es salvada del pecado.”[28] Sin embargo, algunos, quizás solo unos pocos, dentro de la tradición Stone-Campbell han defendido una presencia espiritual de Cristo. Robert Milligan, por ejemplo, quien escribía en la misma época que Christopher, insistió en que la Cena del Señor no es «meramente conmemorativa» y es «más que el simple recuerdo de hechos. Está destinada a ser el medio para proporcionar e impartir alimento espiritual.”[29]
Sin embargo, estos materiales, al igual que la mayoría de los estudios sobre nuestra historia y teología eucarística, carecen de este elemento. [30]—Se hace hincapié en la naturaleza escatológica de la Cena del Señor. Dada la afirmación de Pablo en 1 Corintios 11:27, «hasta que él venga», sería imposible que cualquier tradición ignorara la relación entre la Cena del Señor y la segunda venida. Sin embargo, la forma en que se interpreta esta relación es lo que evidencia la falta de reflexión escatológica.
Dos números especiales recientes sobre la Cena del Señor en publicaciones periódicas editadas por miembros de las Iglesias de Cristo ilustran este punto. En un número de 2003 de la revista Gospel Advocate, el artículo “Hasta que Él venga” solo menciona brevemente el hecho y la esperanza de la segunda venida, haciendo hincapié en la solemnidad, el juicio y el carácter conmemorativo de la celebración. [31] El artículo se centraba en el juicio de Dios contra quienes participan indignamente de la Cena del Señor. En el número de 1982 de Spiritual Sword, el artículo “La Cena del Señor… Mirando hacia el futuro” caracteriza la Cena como una “proclamación perpetua” de la muerte de Cristo, donde los participantes dan testimonio de su comprensión de que “el Señor, de hecho, regresará”. Esto expresa una “confianza en la promesa”, ya que, así como la Cena está “fundamentada en un hecho histórico”, también “significa un hecho futuro”. Deaver resume la relación entre el pasado, el presente y el futuro de esta manera: “Quien participa de la Cena conmemora en el presente la muerte, la sepultura y la resurrección de Cristo, mientras espera con anhelo su futuro regreso.”[32]
Con frecuencia, la relación escatológica se interpreta como un marco temporal. Es algo que hacemos hasta que Jesús regrese. En otras palabras, Pablo nos indica el final de la Cena. Lo recordaremos hasta que vuelva a estar presente. Entonces, se dice a veces, dejaremos de celebrar la Cena. Otros interpretan las palabras de Pablo principalmente como la afirmación de un hecho. La Cena proclama la venida de Jesús. Esta proclamación conlleva un anhelo o anticipación de esa realidad futura. Anhelamos el futuro, pero la escatología es completamente futura. Otros, en cambio, ven en las palabras de Pablo una promesa del futuro. No es solo una proclamación, sino una promesa. Esta Cena es su promesa de que regresará. La Cena se convierte en una garantía de la gloria celestial.
Estas ideas pueden denominarse propiamente escatológicas, pero están orientadas a la temporalidad, la facticidad y la promesa. Son decididamente futuristas. Todas enfatizan el carácter de “aún no cumplido” del escatón y tienen una orientación antropocéntrica (recordamos, proclamamos, anticipamos la promesa). Coexisten con un memorialismo y, potencialmente, con una alimentación espiritual presente en Cristo. La dinámica espiritual de la Cena del Señor se reduce a la memoria y/o al sustento espiritual. No hay una dinámica escatológica en el presente, sino solo un Cristo ausente cuyo regreso esperamos a través del recuerdo y el sustento espiritual. Fundamentalmente, esta falta de “realización” escatológica genera una atmósfera solemne y fúnebre que concuerda más con la metáfora del altar que con la de la mesa.
Se descuidaron las dimensiones escatológicas de la Cena del Señor. La esperanza escatológica se redujo a un hecho futuro prometido, y la Cena se redujo a un propósito único, como se ilustra en esta reciente declaración en el Gospel Advocate: “el propósito principal de la Cena del Señor es enfatizar un solo hecho del evangelio, a saber, la muerte de Cristo.”[33] Este enfoque conmemorativo incluso relega la acción de gracias a un segundo plano, de modo que “eucaristía” resulta una designación inapropiada para la Cena del Señor, ya que no “expresa la verdadera concepción de su solemne institución.”[34]
A medida que el memorialismo se imponía y la predicación tendía a reemplazar la mesa como centro del culto, otro factor contribuyó a un enfoque reduccionista de las dimensiones escatológicas de la Cena del Señor. La tradición Stone-Campbell nunca adoptó la palabra «sacramento» (William Robinson es una excepción). En cambio, hablaba de «ordenanzas», al estilo bautista. Si bien las listas de ordenanzas a veces variaban,[35] Las tres ordenanzas centrales del Movimiento Stone-Campbell fueron: el bautismo, la Cena del Señor y el Día del Señor.[36]
Se trata de “instituciones positivas” en contraste con las obligaciones morales.[37] Las obligaciones morales tienen apoyos. Existen incentivos, inclinaciones y propensiones naturales. Pero una ley positiva es una prueba absoluta de lealtad. La importancia del mandato positivo radica en que no está supeditado a los apoyos de las obligaciones morales y proporciona una clara indicación de la lealtad de la persona involucrada. La ley positiva es, según Franklin, “la prueba más elevada de respeto a la autoridad divina”, ya que “pone a prueba” la condición del “corazón” al penetrar “hasta lo más profundo del alma”. La obediencia a la ley positiva “se eleva por encima de la mera moralidad… hacia la pura región de la fe”. La desobediencia a la ley positiva revela el “espíritu de desobediencia.”[38]
Como ordenanza positiva, la Cena del Señor comparte la naturaleza de otras ordenanzas positivas. Tyler, por ejemplo, caracterizó las ordenanzas como: (1) “maestros divinamente designados», (2) «el método de Dios para la justicia», (3) «nuestra actitud hacia las ordenanzas se considera como nuestra actitud hacia su Autor», (4) «pruebas de lealtad», (5) «bendiciones especiales» asociadas a cada una y (6) «la obediencia a las ordenanzas siempre debe provenir del corazón”[39] Cada una de estas caracterizaciones está enmarcada por un enfoque legal de la Cena del Señor. La Cena del Señor se convierte principalmente en un acto de obediencia. Esto es fundamentalmente antropocéntrico y, enmarcado por conceptualizaciones legales, reduce la Cena a un deber que se cumple en memoria de otro. La Cena, en este contexto, se convierte precisamente en aquello a lo que Campbell buscaba oponerse en sus primeros artículos sobre la fracción del pan. La Cena se convierte en un momento de luto por obligación en lugar de una celebración gozosa.
Sin embargo, las perspectivas escatológicas —incluso en el sentido que definiré a continuación— no estaban del todo ausentes en la tradición Stone-Campbell (y también estaban presentes, en cierta medida, en la teología occidental). Walter Scott, por ejemplo, describió la Cena del Señor como “el cielo en la tierra” (similar a las conceptualizaciones de la Iglesia Ortodoxa Oriental).[40] Lo más significativo es que William Robinson, quien estaba al tanto de los primeros indicios del pensamiento escatológico en el siglo XX, afirmó que el “reino es tanto presente como futuro”, y por lo tanto “estamos con Él en la gran fiesta nupcial del Cordero” y “pisamos los atrios celestiales”.”[41]
En general, sin embargo, el Movimiento Stone-Campbell, aunque utilizaba el lenguaje de la mesa, estaba orientado en una dirección antropocéntrica, hacía hincapié en el memorialismo, ocasionalmente enfatizaba la alimentación espiritual en Cristo y reducía las perspectivas escatológicas al hecho prometido de una realidad futura.
Escatología y la Cena del Señor en Lucas-Hechos
Bratten y Jenson señalan que “el siglo XX será recordado en la historia de la teología por el redescubrimiento de la centralidad de la escatología en el mensaje de Jesús y del cristianismo primitivo.”[42] La reorientación de los estudios del Nuevo Testamento hacia temas escatológicos y apocalípticos comenzó con Johannes Weiss y Albert Schweitzer.[43] C. H. Dodd trasladó el fin de los tiempos del futuro al presente con su versión de la “escatología realizada.”[44] Moltmann ha sido fundamental durante el último cuarto del siglo XX al afirmar que, de principio a fin, y no solo en el epílogo, el cristianismo es escatología, “es esperanza, una mirada y un movimiento hacia el futuro, y por lo tanto también revolucionario y transformador del presente.”[45] El Nuevo Testamento transmite un mensaje profundamente escatológico, si no apocalíptico. En consecuencia, las prácticas de la iglesia primitiva también son profundamente escatológicas.
El libro de Wainwright fue el primer intento exhaustivo de interpretar la Cena del Señor desde una perspectiva escatológica. Sostenía que la dimensión de “comida” de la Cena había quedado oscurecida, ya que “las liturgias parecen haber llegado al extremo de disimular la característica fenomenológica fundamental de la eucaristía.”[46] Y, sin embargo, fue la naturaleza de la Cena como comida, como banquete, lo que encarnó sus realidades escatológicas.
Algunos eruditos de principios del siglo XX reconocieron este punto. Si bien gran parte de la teoría de Lietzmann sobre el origen de la Cena del Señor, que la presenta como un contraste entre la alegría escatológica de las comidas en Jerusalén y el carácter conmemorativo de las iglesias paulinas, ha caído en descrédito, su énfasis en el carácter de comida de la Cena y su continuidad con las comidas de Jesús anteriores a la resurrección constituye una contribución significativa.[47] Lohmeyer también enfatizó la importancia de las parábolas y los actos relacionados con las comidas en el ministerio de Jesús como el impulso que dio origen a la Eucaristía.[48] De forma aún más significativa, Cullmann reformuló la teoría de Lietzmann haciendo hincapié en las comidas posteriores a la resurrección y en la extensión que hizo Pablo de esas comidas hasta la Última Cena.[49] Markus Barth, por lo tanto, abarcó toda la trayectoria al reconocer la continuidad entre las comidas de Jesús con sus discípulos antes de la resurrección, después de la resurrección y en el contexto eclesial.[50]
A la luz de esta trayectoria de investigación, estudios recientes han enfatizado la importancia de (1) la mesa en el ministerio de Jesús; (2) la expresión de la alegría de la resurrección en las comidas posteriores a la resurrección con Jesús; y (3) la presencia escatológica de Cristo en las comidas eclesiales. En esta línea de pensamiento, la presencia de Jesús es el elemento central de la Cena del Señor, no como presente en el pan o el vino, sino como anfitrión de la mesa del reino. El motivo de la «partición del pan» en Lucas-Hechos fundamenta e ilustra esta continuidad.
En el Evangelio de Lucas, la mesa es el principal “principio organizador” del método pedagógico de Lucas.[51] Come con pecadores y fariseos. Enseña modales en la mesa en el reino de Dios. En Jesús, Dios come con su pueblo y, a través de estas comidas, proclama cómo es el reino de Dios.[52] El ministerio de Jesús en torno a la mesa constituye el telón de fondo de la descripción que hace Lucas de la Última Cena, la cual, según Wainwright, “aparentemente estaba destinada a ser la última de las comidas simbólicas ofrecidas por aquel que había venido comiendo y bebiendo, y a la que seguiría el gran banquete en el reino.”[53]
En el Evangelio de Lucas, Jesús ofrece tres comidas en las que comparte el pan con sus discípulos. Cada una de ellas está impregnada de motivos escatológicos. La primera es la alimentación de los cinco mil en Lucas 9:10-17. Este relato de la comida es particularmente significativo por varias razones. En primer lugar, es la única comida en Lucas anterior a la Última Cena (Lucas 22) en la que Jesús es el anfitrión. En segundo lugar, contiene un lenguaje explícitamente relacionado con la Última Cena (tomó el pan, lo bendijo, lo partió y se lo dio a los discípulos; cf. Lucas 9:16 con Lucas 22:19). En tercer lugar, la comida tiene claras connotaciones mesiánicas, ya que el Mesías alimenta a su pueblo y come con él.
Justo antes de este relato de la comida, Jesús había enviado a los Doce a “predicar el reino de Dios y a sanar a los enfermos” (Lucas 9:2). A su regreso, Jesús se retira con ellos a Betsaida (Lucas 9:11). Entre estos dos párrafos, Lucas introduce la pregunta que da forma al resto de la narración. Herodes el tetrarca preguntó: “¿Quién es este de quien oigo tales cosas?”. La pregunta principal de la narración es: “¿Quién es Jesús?”. La narración responde a esta pregunta en Lucas 9:20 por boca de Pedro: “El Mesías de Dios”. Lucas realzó el carácter mesiánico de esta comida al situarla antes de la confesión de Jesús como el Cristo (9:20), de modo que la hospitalidad, la predicación, la sanación y la alimentación de su pueblo son señales por las que se reconoce su identidad mesiánica.
La comida, entonces, es un acto que define la identidad. Se trata de una comida mesiánica, ya que el Mesías acoge a la multitud, les enseña sobre el reino de Dios (Lucas 9:11) y les proporciona alimento y alojamiento (Lucas 9:12). Jesús, como Mesías, alimenta al pueblo de Dios en un lugar apartado (Lucas 9:12), tal como Dios lo hizo con el maná en el desierto. La mesa confirma la identidad de Jesús como el ungido de Dios. La comida se caracteriza por la alegría, la abundancia y la compasión, mientras Jesús alimenta a los hambrientos. El texto tiene connotaciones de banquete mesiánico y constituye un contexto para interpretar la Cena del Señor.[54]
El siguiente gráfico ilustra las conexiones entre esta alimentación milagrosa y la Última Cena. La conexión temática indica que Lucas pretendía que su comunidad interpretara Lucas 9 a la luz del banquete en el reino de Dios. Esta comida es la comida del reino, al igual que Lucas 22 es la comida del reino, y la comida eclesial es también la comida del reino. Todas ellas constituyen una participación continua en el reino de Dios. Todas anticipan la plenitud del banquete mesiánico, pero al mismo tiempo experimentan la realidad del reino.
Topico
Lucas 9
Lucas 22
Lenguaje del Reino
Habló sobre el reino
Plenitud en el Reino
Doce
Doce apóstoles/cestas
Doce Tribus/Apóstoles
Israel/Éxodo/Desierto
Maná en el desierto
Conmemoración del Éxodo
Discípulos discutiendo
¿Quién es el más grande?
¿Quién es el más grande?
Recostados (a la mesa)
Modales en la mesa
Etiqueta en la mesa
Fórmula litúrgica
Tomó, bendijo, partió, dio
Tomó, bendijo, partió, dio
Jesús como anfitrión
Anfitrión en el desierto
Anfitrión en la Pascua
Hospitalidad (Alojamiento)
Brindando hospitalidad
Aceptando la hospitalidad
Misión apostólica
Misioneros itinerantes
Juzgando a las tribus
Comiendo una comida
Panes y peces
Cordero pascual
Servicio
Los discípulos sirven
Jesús sirve
Lucas nos ofrece el relato más extenso de la Última Cena entre los evangelios sinópticos. Según Lucas, la Última Cena fue una cena de Pascua, y él vincula directamente la Pascua del antiguo pacto con la cena del nuevo pacto. Jesús celebró esta Pascua anticipando que volvería a comer con sus discípulos en el reino de Dios (Lucas 22:16-18). Lo que Jesús anhela comer en el futuro es la consumación de la Pascua misma. La cena de Pascua encuentra su plenitud en el reino de Dios, donde los discípulos comerán y beberán a la mesa de Jesús en su reino (Lucas 22:30).
Lucas sitúa esta nueva comida de la alianza en la trayectoria de la historia de la redención. Jesús volverá a comer y beber con los discípulos cuando llegue el reino (Lucas 22:18). La plenitud del reino es el reinado de Dios en la tierra parousia ((Véase la parábola en Lucas 19:11-27). Sin embargo, Lucas también cree que en la persona de Jesús, quien expulsa demonios y resucita a los muertos, el reino ya está presente (Lucas 11:20), y que Pentecostés fue la inauguración del Israel restaurado cuando Jesús ascendió al trono de David (Hechos 1:6; 2:29-35, en relación con Lucas 1:30-33). El reino de Dios ya está presente, pero aún no se ha manifestado plenamente; es presente, pero también futuro. La Pascua se cumple tanto en la Iglesia como en el futuro banquete mesiánico. Por lo tanto, el cumplimiento en Lucas 22 tiene un doble significado: es el cumplimiento en la comida de la nueva alianza del reino ya inaugurado, así como en el banquete mesiánico o celestial.
Tres días después de prometer que volvería a comer y beber con sus discípulos en el reino de Dios, Jesús come con ellos (Lucas 24:30, 42-43). Las acciones de Jesús en aquel primer día de la semana de Pascua en Emaús son un fiel reflejo de la Última Cena. En la mesa, Jesús “tomó el pan, lo bendijo, lo partió y se lo dio”(Lucas 24:30), tal como en la Última Cena tomó el pan, dio gracias, lo partió y lo dio (Lucas 22:19). Lucas identifica la comida de Emaús con la Última Cena y, por lo tanto, con la Eucaristía.[55]
Al partir el pan, Jesús se les dio a conocer (Lucas 24:35). Ahora lo reconocieron, cuando antes no lo habían hecho. Sus ojos se abrieron a la mesa (Lucas 24:16, 31). Cleofás y su compañero vieron al Señor resucitado y regresaron a Jerusalén para contárselo a los demás discípulos. Entonces Jesús se apareció a todo el grupo, comió con ellos (Lucas 24:34-42) y les enseñó la palabra (Lucas 24:44-49). Los paralelismos entre el primer pasaje y el segundo en Lucas 24 son significativos: la presencia de Jesús, la comida posterior a la resurrección y la enseñanza de la palabra (véase también Hechos 1:4; 10:41). Y esta experiencia es, a su vez, la continuación de las comidas que Jesús compartió con sus discípulos durante su ministerio.[56]
La mesa, entonces, es una mesa de esperanza, ya que declara la presencia del reino a través de la resurrección de Jesús. La mesa proclama al Cristo viviente. El Señor resucitado está presente en la mesa, comiendo y bebiendo con sus discípulos. La mesa representa esperanza, alegría, comunión y acción de gracias. La mesa de aquel primer domingo de Pascua fue una mesa de alegría y celebración (cf. Lucas 24:52).
La nueva comunidad de los discípulos de Jesús se describe en Hechos 2:42 como aquellos que «se dedicaban a la enseñanza de los apóstoles, a la comunión, al partimiento del pan y a la oración». Diariamente, esta nueva comunidad se reunía en el templo y en las casas (Hechos 2:46-47). Aparentemente, se reunían en el templo para orar y recibir enseñanza (cf. Hechos 3:1; 5:21 [diariamente]). Y esta nueva comunidad también se reunía diariamente en las casas para partir el pan.[57]
Compartieron la comida con alegría y generosidad. No hay ninguna razón sustancial para distinguir entre el partir el pan en Hechos 2:42 y Hechos 2:46: ambos pasajes se refieren a una comida en cuyo contexto se manifestaba el rito litúrgico [el partir el pan], se recordaba al Señor y se experimentaba su presencia.[58] Sea lo que sea este “partir el pan”, debe interpretarse a la luz de Lucas 9:22 y 24, de modo que estos textos enriquezcan nuestra comprensión de Hechos 2. Parece improbable que Lucas utilizara la misma expresión (“partir el pan”) para describir dos cosas diferentes en el espacio de cinco versículos, especialmente cuando el Evangelio de Lucas nos ayuda a comprender el significado de partir el pan. En consecuencia, “partir el pan” en Hechos 2:42 y 2:46 se refiere a la Cena del Señor, que se celebraba como una comida diaria en la iglesia de Jerusalén.[59]
Lucas pretende que sus lectores relacionen la “partición del pan” con los acontecimientos previos narrados en su Evangelio. En tres ocasiones, Lucas describe detalladamente las acciones de Jesús como anfitrión cuando tomó el pan, lo bendijo (dio gracias), lo partió y lo dio a sus discípulos. Cuando Lucas se refiere de forma concisa y enigmática a la “partición del pan” en los Hechos de los Apóstoles, presupone que el lector conoce las narraciones más completas de su Evangelio. De hecho, presupone que comprenden el significado teológico de la “partición del pan”. Este significado queda patente en Lucas 24:35, que constituye el pasaje clave en las narraciones sobre la “partición del pan”.[60] Como se representa visualmente en el gráfico a continuación, cuando los discípulos de Cristo partieron el pan, experimentaron la presencia de Cristo resucitado..
El Evangelio de Lucas
Texto de bisagra
El Libro de los Hechos
Lucas 9:16 Jesús tomó el pan, lo bendijo, lo partió y lo dio.
Hechos 2:42 los discípulos perseveraban en el partimiento del pan
Lucas 22:19 Jesús tomó pan, dio gracias, lo partió y lo dio.
Lucas 24:35 Jesús se les dio a conocer «al partir el pan».
Hechos 2:46 Los discípulos partían el pan diariamente en sus casas.
Lucas 24:30 Jesús tomó el pan, lo bendijo, lo partió y se lo dio.
Hechos 20:7 los discípulos se reunieron para partir el pan
Lucas también narra que la iglesia continuaba partiendo el pan en comunidad (Hechos 20:7). La iglesia se reunía para partir el pan, siendo este el propósito explícito de su reunión. El relato combina varios elementos que iluminan la conexión entre la fracción del pan, el primer día de la semana y la resurrección, al igual que en Lucas 24. En este primer día de la semana, cuando los discípulos estaban reunidos para partir el pan, la iglesia experimentó de primera mano una resurrección de entre los muertos. Los vínculos narrativos entre Lucas 24 y Hechos 20 confirman que Lucas quería que sus lectores revivieran la resurrección de Jesús en este acontecimiento.[61] La resurrección de Eutico funciona como una realidad existencial que encarna la verdad de la propia presencia de Jesús en aquella mesa.
Topico
Lucas 24
Hechos 20
Reunión de discípulos
24:33
20:7
Partición del pan
24:30,35
20:7,11
Comida en comunidad
24:42-43
20:11
Primer día de la semana
24:1,13
20:7
Enseñanza de la Palabra (logos)
24:17,19,44
20:7
Conversación (homileo)
24:14-15
20:11
Una resurrección de entre los muertos
24:5,46
20:10,12
Miedo
24:37-38
20:10
El Viviente (zotan)
24:5
20:12
En Lucas-Hechos, el acto de “partir el pan” es una comida de alianza en la que el Señor está presente como anfitrión y los discípulos se sientan juntos como comunidad, no solo con la esperanza de la resurrección, sino también experimentando en el presente la inminencia del fin de los tiempos. Los discípulos comparten la comida como expresión de la comunión que existe entre ellos gracias a la obra redentora de Dios en Jesús. Mientras comen, anticipan el reino escatológico. Pero hicieron más que anticiparlo: experimentaron la presencia de Cristo resucitado en la mesa. Como comenta Marshall: “En la lectura de las Escrituras y al partir el pan, el Señor resucitado seguirá estando presente, aunque invisible.”[62]
El acto de “partir el pan” no era, por lo tanto, un solemne ritual funerario, sino la celebración de la nueva comunidad de la presencia de Jesús resucitado, a través de la cual Dios revelaba el fin de los tiempos. Los discípulos comían con alegría y generosidad, alabando a Dios por su obra redentora. Comían con esperanza, reviviendo la victoria de Jesús sobre la muerte al compartir la mesa y al comer con Jesús. De hecho, estas comidas festivas estaban llenas de interacción gozosa y alabanza entusiasta. La alegría impregna los relatos de las comidas en el Evangelio de Lucas (cf. Hechos 2:46) y es particularmente apropiada para la Eucaristía, además de ser análoga a la alegría que caracterizaba las comidas sacrificiales del Antiguo Testamento (Deuteronomio 12:7, 12, 18; 14:26; 27:7).[63] Una de las grandes diferencias entre las comidas descritas en el Evangelio de Lucas y la celebración de la Cena del Señor en la iglesia contemporánea es que la alegría no es la emoción predominante con la que se vive esta última.
Y esta alegría es una alegría escatológica. Está arraigada en la presencia de Cristo vivo en la mesa. Como señala I. Howard Marshall, «sobre todo, la contribución de Lucas consiste en destacar que la Cena del Señor es la celebración gozosa de la experiencia de la salvación en presencia del Señor resucitado”[64] En la teología lucana, es la Eucaristía la que entrega a Cristo resucitado, vivo y presente, a los fieles. Por lo tanto, para los cristianos, la Eucaristía es el gran signo de la Resurrección del Señor, el signo por el cual reconocen al Señor como vivo y presente.”[65]
Reflexión teológica
Teología sistemática
La continuidad entre las comidas ministeriales (p. ej., Lucas 9), la Última Cena (Lucas 22) y las comidas post-resurrección (Lucas 24) reside en la presencia de Cristo vivo al partir el pan. “La perspectiva escatológica que Jesús ofreció en la Última Cena”, escribe Wainwright, “no tuvo que esperar a la eucaristía de la iglesia para su cumplimiento, y mucho menos permanecer incumplida hasta la venida del reino, que aún no ha ocurrido, sino que ya se cumplió en las comidas que Jesús compartió con sus discípulos inmediatamente después de su resurrección.”[66] La continuidad entre el Evangelio de Lucas y la fracción del pan en los Hechos es la realidad escatológica de Jesús resucitado. Es la continuación de las comidas posteriores a la resurrección. “La Última Cena y esas apariciones de la resurrección”, escribe Torrance, “pertenecen juntas en un todo sacramental. Aunque Jesús ha retirado su presencia visible de nosotros, existe tal intervención del Señor resucitado como la realidad invisible detrás de cada celebración de la Cena del Señor. Jesucristo está tan realmente presente en la Eucaristía como lo estuvo en aquel día de Pascua para sus discípulos.”[67]
Sin embargo, al reflexionar sobre la presencia continua de Cristo resucitado en la mesa del Señor en la iglesia, nos enfrentamos a la tensión de que Cristo resucitado también está ausente. Torrance llama a esto la “reserva escatológica”en el sentido de que existe un lapso escatológico a la espera de la última Palabra o la acción final de Dios.”[68] En nuestra situación postascensional, pero preparusía, vivimos en la tensión de que Jesús está ausente y presente a la vez. Está ausente: ya no camina sobre la tierra como uno de nosotros, sino que se sienta a la diestra de Dios. Sin embargo, está presente sacramentalmente en la mesa. En consecuencia, hay continuidad y discontinuidad con las comidas posteriores a la resurrección. Si bien la mesa media la presencia de Cristo, es evidente que Jesús no está físicamente presente en el mismo sentido en que estuvo presente en las comidas posteriores a la resurrección. La Eucaristía continúa las comidas posteriores a la resurrección, pero en un contexto posterior a la ascensión. Así, la Eucaristía anticipa el carácter “todavía no” del escatón, pero también participa en su “ya”. Es más que una promesa de lo que está por venir: es la experiencia presente del futuro mismo, pero aún no es la plenitud de la comunión cara a cara con Cristo resucitado.
Esta tensión moldea la práctica eucarística de la iglesia. Quien tiende un puente sobre esa tensión es el Espíritu de Dios. La pneumatología —estar en el Espíritu— une a la iglesia con el Cristo ausente para que esté verdaderamente presente en la mesa. Cuando Cristo ascendió, derramó el Espíritu sobre su pueblo. El Espíritu une el cielo y la tierra. Además, este es un Espíritu escatológico que trae el futuro al presente. Él mismo no es solo un anticipo, una prenda o garantía del futuro, sino que el futuro ahora está presente a través del Espíritu. La presencia del Espíritu es la presencia del escatón.
Al reflexionar sobre la relación entre la Eucaristía y la escatología, la pneumatología debe ser prioritaria. Si bien no hay suficiente espacio para desarrollar este punto, el testimonio de Juan (Juan 4:24) y Pablo (Filipenses 3:2; Efesios 5:18-19) es que el pueblo de Dios adora en el Espíritu. Adoramos en el Espíritu como personas que “tienen acceso inmediato a Dios por medio del Hijo” por el Espíritu. Nos acercamos al Padre a través del Hijo en el Espíritu (Efesios 2:18). El Espíritu media nuestra presencia ante el Padre, así como el Espíritu media la presencia del Hijo en nosotros. Somos la morada de Dios en el Espíritu (Efesios 2:22). En la mesa nos unimos sacramentalmente con el Padre y el Hijo por medio del Espíritu en una comunión que se nos da de forma concreta como el pan y el vino en una mesa.
Una reflexión más profunda sobre esta función del Espíritu da relevancia al énfasis histórico de la tradición ortodoxa. Nos recuerda que la iglesia reunida es un “sacramento de asamblea.”[69] La asamblea, con la Eucaristía como centro, implica la presencia sacramental de Dios. La asamblea es sagrada —toda la asamblea— porque, por el Espíritu, la comunidad reunida ha sido elevada al trono de Dios. Allí, la asamblea se encuentra con la presencia divina. Esto lleva a la asamblea, y en consecuencia a la Eucaristía, más allá de la proclamación y la memoria. Más bien, la “novedad, la singularidad de la leitourgia cristiana [reside] en su naturaleza escatológica como presencia aquí y ahora de la parusía futura, como efifanía de lo venidero, como comunión con el mundo venidero”. El día de la asamblea, el «día del Señor», es un «símbolo», es decir, la manifestación, ahora, del reino.[70] No se trata de una mera relación corporativa vertical, sino de una experiencia presente del futuro. Vemos el mundo con ojos escatológicos en la Eucaristía y experimentamos auténticamente el futuro.
La presencia de la realidad escatológica en la asamblea reunida alrededor de la mesa nos introduce en la plenitud del reino de Dios. Por el Espíritu experimentamos la inminencia del reino al estar presentes en el trono de Dios. La asamblea es “el sacramento de la venida del Señor resucitado, de nuestro encuentro y comunión con él, en su mesa, en su reino”. A través de la Eucaristía, la iglesia asciende y entra en la luz, la alegría y el triunfo del reino, de tal manera que la Eucaristía es un símbolo plenamente realizado.”[71] Esta es la verdad del mantra ortodoxo de que la asamblea de la iglesia es “el cielo en la tierra”, o “de pie en el templo estamos en el cielo.”[72] “Cuidémonos”, advierte Crisóstomo, “de no permanecer en la tierra.”[73]
Los vestigios de esta idea se encuentran en las tradiciones litúrgicas occidentales. Cuando la iglesia canta el Sanctus («Santo, Santo, Santo»), se une al coro celestial que rodea el trono de Dios. No se trata de una simple alabanza distante. Más bien, “la iglesia terrenal participa real y ya en la adoración del cielo.”[74]
Los Wesley también percibieron esta imagen y la describieron como un anticipo del cielo. Aunque la imagen es excepcional, según Wainwright, su valor como expresión de la relación entre lo ya existente y lo todavía no existente es innegable. Para los Wesley, esta escatología realizada unía a la iglesia en su misión de unión litúrgica de alabanza con toda la congregación celestial.” “La cena se entendía como un vehículo que transformaba la asamblea de creyentes y les otorgaba un lugar presente en la Iglesia Triunfante.”[75]
La dimensión escatológica de la Eucaristía, por tanto, no es simplemente la proclamación de un hecho futuro (ya sea la Segunda Venida o el Reino de Dios), ni es meramente una promesa o prenda de la realidad futura, sino la experiencia de ese futuro en el presente mediante el Espíritu que nos une con Cristo vivo en el trono de Dios. Jesús nos invita a su mesa ya desde ahora, y participamos del banquete escatológico ya desde ahora. Ya comemos en la mesa escatológica del Señor; ya nos sentamos a la mesa con Jesús en su reino.
Teología práctica
Orientación litúrgica. La solemnidad y la aparente tristeza de nuestra experiencia actual de la Cena en la iglesia contemporánea no encajan con la experiencia del camino de Emaús. La iglesia necesita revisar la Cena como una experiencia de alegría de resurrección en la mesa del reino, en lugar de como un altar de sacrificio. Como explica Torrance: “Esas comidas de Pascua les dieron [a los discípulos] la comprensión del rito en el Cenáculo.”[76]
Así como la narración de Emaús pasa del no reconocimiento de Jesús al reconocimiento de Jesús en la mesa, la Iglesia reconoce a Jesús en la mesa. Allí reconocemos la victoria de la resurrección al comer y beber con Jesús con esperanza. En la mesa llevamos todos nuestros “viernes” a Jesús y celebramos la victoria de Cristo el domingo. La mesa transforma el “viernes” en “domingo”. Desafortunadamente, la Iglesia todavía practica la Cena como si todavía fuera viernes en lugar de domingo. Pero el objetivo de la Cena es que celebremos el domingo y experimentemos la realidad de que Dios ha vencido el viernes. El domingo reinterpreta y renueva nuestros viernes. Torrance, nuevamente, comenta: “El misterio de la Resurrección está sacramentalmente presente en la Eucaristía.”[77]
Si la iglesia adopta la idea teológica de la presencia escatológica en la mesa como el ya de un futuro aún no presente, la liturgia eucarística de la iglesia debería estar marcada principalmente por la esperanza, la alegría y la comunión espiritual. El himnario de los Discípulos, Alabanza Agradecida, es un buen ejemplo de un movimiento en esta dirección. Por ejemplo, enfatiza una teología de la mesa donde Jesús se sienta como anfitrión.[78] Encarna una alegría meditativa o contemplativa. “Pero esta experiencia gozosa es una participación presente en el banquete escatológico, más que una simple acción de gracias anamnética.”[79] Ciertamente, la alegría contemplativa es coherente con la naturaleza del banquete escatológico, pero existe también un sentido de alegría más amplio que la contemplación o la meditación. La alegría del banquete escatológico no debe limitarse a la contemplación.
Mesa Misional.[80] Si entendemos la Cena del Señor como la continuación del ministerio de la mesa de Jesús en la iglesia, tendrá profundas implicaciones para el significado y la práctica de la mesa.[81] La mesa es el lugar donde Jesús recibe a los pecadores y confronta a los justos; un lugar donde Jesús extiende gracia a quienes buscan, pero condena a los santurrones. Jesús está dispuesto a comer con los pecadores para invitarlos al reino, pero señala la discontinuidad entre nuestras mesas de culturas sociales, étnicas, de género, económicas y religiosas y la mesa en el reino de Dios. Los últimos (pecadores, pobres y humildes) serán los primeros en el reino de Dios, pero los primeros (santurrones, ricos y orgullosos) serán los últimos y excluidos del reino de Dios (Lucas 13:26-30).
Los relatos de las comidas tienen un significado teológico y eucarístico para la comunidad de Lucas. La mesa durante el ministerio de Jesús debe moldear la mesa en la iglesia, porque la mesa de Jesús es la mesa del reino. La mesa del ministerio de Jesús continúa en la iglesia. La etiqueta de la mesa de Jesús es la etiqueta del reino, y la Cena del Señor es la mesa del reino del Señor.
La mesa anuncia la presencia del reino. Anuncia que “hoy” la salvación ha llegado al mundo al comulgar Dios con su pueblo. El tema del Jubileo, expresado en Lucas 4:16-19, no solo infunde gran alegría en la mesa, sino que también llama a los discípulos de Jesús a acoger a todos los invitados a su mesa. La mesa es inclusiva y se preocupa por los pobres, los ciegos y los oprimidos (Lucas 14). La mesa trasciende todas las barreras socioeconómicas, raciales y de género, uniendo a la humanidad perdida en una sola mesa. Abraza al “otro” al partir el pan en presencia de Jesús.[82] Esta inclusión da testimonio del carácter socio-ético de la mesa como momento de unión en el reino de Dios.
Además, la mesa se convierte en un espacio político,[83] economico,[84] y ecologico[85] Actúa dentro de la cultura y contra ella. Expresa el reino de Dios en todas sus dimensiones políticas, económicas y ecológicas.[86] Da testimonio de cómo el reino de Dios en el presente debe transformar la vida aquí y ahora. Nuestra lealtad es al reino, no a las instituciones políticas humanas. Nuestro compromiso es con los pobres, no con el capitalismo consumista. Nos preocupa la integridad de la creación de Dios, no la explotación humanista egoísta de la tierra. Entender que la Eucaristía es la comida del reino que encarna la vida del reino, no solo en el nuevo cielo y la nueva tierra, sino aquí, es ver la Eucaristía como la presencia del futuro que transforma el presente y nos impulsa hacia la realización de la plenitud del reino de Dios en la tierra. La Eucaristía es la comida que no solo reza «Venga tu Reino», sino que también moldea la presencia de ese reino en la vida de los discípulos ahora.[87]
Apertura ecuménica. Una de las maneras más significativas en que se ha empleado el significado escatológico de la Cena en los últimos cincuenta años es al servicio del ecumenismo. Esto motiva en parte la obra de Wainwright, pero fue impulsada por Torrance en 1952. En 1993, Davies analizó el impacto de diversas interpretaciones de la Cena en el ecumenismo, y en 2000, Welker hizo lo mismo. Todos ellos prestan especial atención al significado escatológico de la Cena, donde el enfoque principal se centra en el acto divino que genera alegría y gratitud en los fieles en una unidad escatológica.[88]
De nuevo, si el ministerio de Jesús en la mesa ha de moldear nuestra comprensión y práctica de la Eucaristía, y si la realidad escatológica ya está presente en la Cena, esto nos impulsará a enfatizar la invitación divina. Jesús invitó a todos a la mesa y se sentó con todos. Si la mesa encarna el evangelio y da testimonio de él, entonces debe reflejar la intención universal del evangelio. Así como nuestra predicación invita a todos a la fe, la mesa invita a todos a comer. La mesa, al igual que el ministerio de la Palabra, ofrece gracia y testifica que Jesús murió por todos. La mesa es un lugar donde los pecadores no solo pueden escuchar, sino también experimentar el mensaje misericordioso del evangelio al comer con la comunidad de fe. La comunidad de fe hoy, al igual que Israel en el pasado, recibe a los extranjeros en su mesa.[89]
Esto debería resonar con la tradición Stone-Campbell, especialmente en términos ecuménicos. Nuestros inicios históricos implicaron importantes conflictos en torno a la mesa. Thomas Campbell fue censurado y finalmente destituido por compartir la comunión con presbiterianos ajenos a la tradición secesionista en el oeste de Pensilvania. Alexander Campbell se negó a comulgar con la aprobación de un clérigo que le hacía donaciones simbólicas. En los últimos 150 años, el lema “ni invitamos ni excluimos” ha caracterizado nuestra práctica, pero esto se basaba principalmente en una comprensión individualista del «autoexamen» más que en un llamado a la unidad..[90] La unidad presupone una invitación a la mesa donde todos son bienvenidos, sin límites institucionales. Una visión escatológica desvía la discusión de las preocupaciones institucionales hacia la plenitud del reino de Dios.
Conclusión:
A través de la Cena del Señor, los discípulos experimentan la alegría escatológica de Cristo resucitado al ser anfitrión de nuestra comida comunitaria. La Cena del Señor es una comida escatológica del reino de Dios parcialmente realizado.
La Iglesia no debe abandonar, por supuesto, el memorialismo (recordamos a Jesús) ni el sentido de presencia mística a través del pan y el vino (énfasis de Calvino). Pero estas perspectivas deben situarse en el horizonte del escatón. Como nos recuerda Dix: “Toda la concepción de la anamnesis es en sí misma escatológica… Lo que la Iglesia «recuerda» en la eucaristía está en parte más allá de la historia: la ascensión, el sentarse a la diestra del Padre y la segunda venida.”[91]
El horizonte de la fe cristiana es el escatón. En la Eucaristía recordamos el futuro.[92] porque el ser humano escatológico, Jesús el Mesías, está presente en la Eucaristía como prenda del futuro. En la Eucaristía experimentamos la presencia de Cristo, no tanto en el pan y el vino, sino en la mesa.
El horizonte escatológico nos recuerda que la metáfora fundamental de la Eucaristía no es ni tumba ni altar, sino mesa.[93]
[3] Andrew Paris, What the Bible Says about the Lord’s Supper (Joplin, MO: College Press, 1986), 151-243.
[4] Byron Lambert, “Have We Understood the Lord’s Supper?” in The Lord’s Supper: Historical Writings on Its Meaning to the Body of Christ, ed. Charles R. Gresham and Tom Lawson (Joplin, MO: College Press Publishing Co., 1993), 208-210.
[5] Gordon T. Smith, A Holy Meal: The Lord’s Supper in the Life of the Church (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005). Leonard J. Vander Zee, Christ, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper: Recovering the Sacraments for Evangelical Worship (Downers Grove, IL: 2004), 187-219, discute el significado bajo los títulos: presencia de Cristo, mediación del Espíritu Santo, Cena y sacrificio, recuerdo y comida de esperanza.
[7]The Nature of the Unity We Seek; Official Report of the North American Conference on Faith and Order, ed. Paul S. Minear (St. Louis: Bethany Press, 1958), 203.
[8]Algunos ejemplos representativos son Scott McCormick, Jr., The Lord’s Supper: A Biblical Interpretation (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1966), 88-108; Paul E. Deterding, “Eschatological and Eucharistic Motifs in Luke 12:35-40,” Concordia Journal 5 (May 1979), 85-94; Patrick Regan, “Pneumatological and Eschatological Aspects of Liturgical Celebration,” Worship 51(1977) 332-350; William Hill, “The Eucharist as Eschatological Presence,” Communio 4 (Winter, 1977) 306-320; John H. McKenna, “The Eucharist, The Resurrection and the Future,” Anglican Theological Review 60 (1978) 144-165; Horton Davies, Bread of Life and Cup of Joy: Newer Ecumenical Perspectives on the Eucharist (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 80-116; Arthur A. Just, The Ongoing Feast: Table Fellowship and Eschatology at Emmaus (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1993); Debra Dean Murphy, “Bread, Wine, and the ‘Pledge of Heaven’: A (Wesleyan) Feminist Perspective on Eucharist and Eschatology,” Quarterly Review 14 (Winter 1994-1995), 401-12; Peter Leithart, “The Way Things Really Ought to Be: Eucharist, Eschatology, and Culture,” Westminster Theological Journal 59 (Fall 1997), 159-76; Robert G. Clouse, “Eschatology and the Lord’s Supper: Hope for the Triumph of God’s Reign,” in The Lord’s Supper: Believers Church Perspectives, ed. Dale R. Stoffer (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1997), 129-139;.Jason Fout, “Beginnings and Ends: Eucharist and Eschatology,” Quodlibet Online Journal of Christian Theology and Philosophy 2.4 (Fall 2000), disponible en http://www.quodlibet.net/fout-eucharist.shtml; Rebecca Kuiken, “Hopeful Feasting: Eucharist and Eschatology,” in Hope for Your Future: Theological Voices from the Pastorate, ed. William H. Lazareth (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 192-198; Martha L. Moore-Keish, “Eucharist: Eschatology,” in A More Profound Alleluia: Theology and Worship in Harmony (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005). 109-132.
[9] Geoffrey Wainwright, Eucharist and Eschatology (London: Epworth Press, 1971).
[10] Wainwright, 1-2. Organiza su discusión bajo tres temas: antepasado del cielo, marantha y primicias del Reino.
[13] Ver la discusión de William R. Crockett, Eucharist: Symbol of Transformation (New York: Pueblo Publishing Co., 1989), 256ff.
[14] Cf. Steven T. Hoskins, “Eucharist and Eschatology in the Writings of the Wesleys,” Wesleyan Theological Journal 29 (1994), 64-80. disponible en http://wesley.nnu.edu/wesleyan_theology/theojrnl/26-30/29-04.htm. Cf. tambien Murphy, “Bread, Wine, and the ‘Pledge of Heaven’,” 406ff.
[15] Daniel Brevint, The Christian Sacrament and Sacrifice by way of Discourse, Meditation, & Prayer upon the Nature, Parts and Blessings of the Holy Communion (Oxford: At the Theater in Oxford, 1673).
[16]J. Robert Nelson, “Methodist Eucharistic Practice: From Constant Communion to Benign Neglect to Sacramental Recovery,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 13 (Spring 1976), 280-81. Ver también Kathryn Nichols, “The Theology of Christ’s Sacrifice and Presence in Charles Wesley’s Hymns On the Lord’s Supper,” Hymn 39 (October 1988), 19-29 y “Charles Wesley’s Eucharistic Hymns: Their Relationship to the Book of Common Prayer,” Hymn 39 (October 1988), 13-21.
[17]Por ejemplo, ver J. E. Rattenbury, The Eucharistic Hymns of John and Charles Wesley (London: Epworth Press, 1948), #96; #102.
[22] Alexander Campbell, “A Restoration of the Ancient Order of Things, No. IV. On the Breaking of Bread, No. 1,” Christian Baptist 3.1 (1 August 1825), 175.
[25] Paul M. Blowers and Byron C. Lambert, “Lord’s Supper, The,” in The Encyclopedia of the Stone-Campbell Movement, ed. Douglas A. Foster, et. al. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 493-95. Ver también K. C. Richardson, “The Lord’s Supper as a Sacrament in the History of the Stone-Campbell Movement” (M.Div., thesis, Emmanuel School of Religion, 1996); James O. Duke, “The Disciples and the Lord’s Supper: A Historical Perspective,” Encounter 50 (Winter 1989): 1-28; y Richard L. Harrison, Jr., “Early Disciples Sacramental Theology: Catholic, Reformed and Free,” Mid-Stream 24 (July 1985), 255-92.
[26] Alexander Campbell, “What is the Real Design of the Lord’s Supper?” Millennial Harbinger 17 (September 1846), 396.
[27] Hiram Christopher, TheRemedial System; or, Man and His Redeemer in Two Parts (Lexington, KY: Transylvania Printing and Publishing Co., 1876), 348.
[29] Robert Milligan, The Scheme of Redemption (Nashville: Gospel Advocate Co., 1977; reprint of 1868 ed), 429-30Ver también Robert Richardson, Communings in the Sanctuary (Lexington, KY: Transylvania Printing and Publishing Co., 1872) y R. H. Boll, Truth and Grace (Cincinnati: F. L. Rowe, 1917), 272: “The import of the Lord’s Supper is not exhausted in the word ‘memorial’…It has a further power…the Lord’s Supper is not simply a reminder of the Lord’s death, but a real participation in the body and blood of Christ.”
[30] Está ausente, por ejemplo, en la encuesta de Blowers y Lambert, excepto en la persona de William Robinson.
[31] David Brag, “Until He Comes,” Gospel Advocate 145 (6 June 2003), 21-22. Otros artículos (pp. 12-21) incluido “The Lord’s Supper and the Lord’s Day” por Cecil May, Jr., “A Memorial to the Lord’s Death” de Dale Jenkins, “Discerning the Lord’s Body” by Howard Justis, y “The Christian’s Holy Meal” por Kevin Cauley. El tema principal hizo hincapié en el memorialismo y la solemnidad. El tema es aparentemente una respuesta a Come to the Table: Revisioning the Lord’s Supper (Orange, CA: New Leaf Books, 2002) Sin nombrarlo.
[35] Milligan, Scheme, 361-441, enumera siete: la predicación de la palabra, la oración, la alabanza, el ayuno, el bautismo, el domingo del Señor y la Cena del Señor.
[36] Alexander Campbell, Christian Baptism: With Its Antecedents and Consequents (Bethany, VA: Campbell, 1851), 17: “The Christian ordinances–baptism, the Lord’s day, and the Lord’s supper,–as taught and observed by the Apostles.” Cf. Calvin L. Potter, “Thinking Our Way Into the Future with Truth Behind Our Backs,” Mid-Stream 25 (July 1987), 307.
[37] Alexander, Campbell, “Essays on Man in his Primitive State, and under the Patriarchal, Jewish, and Christian Dispensations.–No. XVI. Christian Age.–No. II.,” Christian Baptist 7.12 (5 July 1830), 656 y Christian Baptism, 246.
[38] Franklin, “Positive,” 194. Cf. John Mark Hicks, “”The Gracious Separatist: Moral and Positive Law in the Theology of James A. Harding,” Restoration Quarterly 42.3 (2000): 129-47, disponible en http://johnmarkhicks.faithsite.com/content.asp?CID=17867.
[39] J. Z. Tyler, “The Ordinances of the Lord,” in New Testament Christianity, ed. Z. T. Sweeney (Columbus, IN: New Testament Christianity Book Fund, 1926), 113-124. Este artículo es seguido inmediatamente por Franklin’s “Positive Divine Law,” 125-165, citado anteriormente. Ambos están disponibles en http://www.mun.ca/rels/restmov/texts/zsweeney/ntc2/NTC200.HTM.
[41] William Robinson, “The Administration of the Lord’s Supper,” in The Lord’s Supper: Historical Writings on Its Meaning to the Body of Christ, ed. Charles R. Gresham y Tom Lawson (Joplin, MO: College Press Publishing Co., 1993), 89-90.
[42] C. E. Braaten and R. W. Jenson, The Last Things: Biblical and Theological Perspectives on Eschatology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), vii.
[43] Johannes Weiss, Jesus’ Proclamation of the Kingdom of God (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1971 [German original, 1892]) y Albert Schweitzer, The Quest of the Historical Jesus (London: Adam & Charles. Black, 1911 [German original, 1906]).
[44] C. H. Dodd, The Parables of the Kingdom (London: Nisbet, 1935).
[45] J. Moltmann, Theology of Hope: On the Grounds and Implications of a Christian Eschatology (New York: Harper & Row, 1967), 16.
[47] Hans Lietzmann, Mass and the Lord’s Supper: A Study in the History of Liturgy, trans. D. H. G. Reeve (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1979 [German original, 1926]).
[48] J. Lohmeyer, “Das Abendmahl in der Urgemeinde,” Journal of Biblical Literature 56 (1937), 217-52.
[49] Oscar Cullmann, “The Meaning of the Lord’s Supper in Primitive Christianity,” 5-23, in Essays on the Lord’s Supper, trans. J. G. Davies (Richmond, VA: John Knox Press, 1958 [French original, 1936]).
[50] Markus Barth, Abendmahl: Passamahl, Bundesmahl und Messiasmahl (Zollikon-Zurich: Evangelischer Verlag, 1945). Cf. Markus Barth, Rediscovering the Lord’s Supper: Communion with Israel, with Christ, and Among Guests (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988).
[51] John Koenig, The Feast of the World’s Redemption: Eucharistic Origins and Christian Mission (Harrisbug, PA: Trinity Press International, 2000), 181.
[52] Ver Eugenio LaVerdiere, Dining in the Kingdom of God: The Origins of the Eucharist in the Gospel of Luke (Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 1998).
[54] Albert Schweitzer ofreció una comprensión escatológica de la Cena del Señor en relación con esta alimentación. Cf. The Mysticism of St. Paul the Apostle (London: A. & C. Black, Ltd., 1931), 241-44.
[55] Augustine, carta 149: “And no one should doubt that his being recognized in the breaking of bread is the sacrament, which brings us together in recognizing him” (cited by Arthur A. Just, Jr., ed., Luke, ACCS, NT III [Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2003], 382). Cf. Just, Ongoing Feast, para una defensa ampliada de esta identificación.
[56] Jon A. Weatherly, “Eating and Drinking in the Kingdom of God: the Emmaus Episode and the Meal Motif in Luke-Acts,” 18-33, in Christ’s Victorious Church, ed. Tom Friskney and Jon A. Weatherly (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2001).
[57] Cf. Eugene LaVerdiere, The Breaking of Bread: The Development of the Eucharist According to Acts (Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 1998).
[58] Cf. William A. Dowd, “Exegetical Notes: Breaking Bread (Acts 2:46),” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 1.4 (October 1939), 358-62, para una definicion ampliada de este entendimiento.
[59] Muchos apoyan esta interpretación de Hechos 2:42 y 2:46. Por ejemplo:, Brad Blue, “The Influence of Jewish Worship on Luke’s Presentation of the Early Church,” in Witness to the Gospel: The Theology of Acts, ed. I. Howard Marshall y David Peterson (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 489 y C. K. Barrett, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994, 1998), 1:164-5.
[60] R. J. Dillon, de Eyewitnesses to Ministers of the Word: Tradition and Composition in Luke 24, Analecta Biblica, 82. (Rome: Biblical Institute, 1978), 105, Considera Lucas 24:35 como el “vínculo de conexión” entre el ministerio de Jesús y las comidas eucarísticas en los Hechos
[61] Luke Timothy Johnson, The Acts of the Apostles, Sacra Pagina Series, 5 (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1992), 358: “Is it by accident that the story takes place on the first day of the week (Lucas 24:1), or that it occurs in an “upper room” (Lucas 22:12; Hechos 1:13), ¿O que los discípulos se reunieron para partir el pan (Lucas 24:30-35)? Todas estas son claras referencias verbales a la resurrección de Jesús y a la experiencia de su presencia resucitada por parte de los primeros discípulos.
[62] I. Howard Marshall, The Gospel of Luke, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 900.
[63] Cf. Philippe Henri Menoud, “The Acts of The Apostles and the Eucharist,” in Jesus Christ and the Faith, trans. E. M. Paul (Pittsburgh: Pickwick Press, 1978 [French original, 1953]), 84-106; cf. Barth, Rediscovering, 74.
[64] I. Howard Marshall, The Last Supper and the Lord’s Supper (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), 133.
[65] Jacques Dupont, “The Meal at Emmaus,” in The Eucharist in the New Testament: A Symposium, ed. J. Delorme, trans. E. M. Stewart (Baltimore: Helicon Press, 1965), 121.
[67] T. F. Torrance, “Eschatology and Eucharist,” Intercommunion, ed. Donald Baillie and John Marsh (NY: Harper & Brothers, Publishers, 1952), 334
[68] T. F. Torrance, Royal Priesthood, 2nd ed (Edinburgh: T & T Clar, 1993), p. 45. Estoy en deuda con Vander Zee, Christ, 216 para esta referencia y el contenido de este párrafo.
[69] Alexander Schmemann, The Eucharist: Sacrament of the Kingdom, trans. Paul Kachur (Crestwood, NY, St. Vladimir’s, 1987), 27ff.
[73] Según lo citado por Schmemann, 169. Cf. tambien Pope John Paul II, “Eucharist: Pledge of Future Glory,” (General Audience, Octubre 25, 2000) disponible en http://www.cin.org/pope/eucharist-glory.html.
[78] Keith Watkins, ed., Thankful Praise: A Resource for Christian Worship (St. Louis: CBP Press, 1987), nos. 55 (p. 73), 178 (p. 140), and 179 (p. 140). Cf. Tambien Keith Watkins, Celebrate with Thanksgiving (St. Louis: Chalice Press, 1991).
[79] Gerard Francis Moore, “The Eucharistic Theology of the Prayers for Communion Service of the Lord’s Supper of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ): 1953-1987,” (Thesis, Licentiate of Theology, Catholic University of America, 1989), 125.
[80] Ver Koenig, The Feast of the World’s Redemption: Eucharistic Origins and Christian Mission, 215-59.
[82] Jim Forest, “In the Breaking of Bread: Recognizing the Face of Jesus,” Sojourners 14.4 (1985), 34-36; cf. Murphy, “Bread, Wine, y ‘the Pledge of Heaven,” 402-04.
[83] William T. Cavanaugh, Torture and Eucharist: Theology, Politics, and the Body of Christ (Malden, Mass: Blackwell Publishers, 1996).
[84] Cf. Joseph A. Grassi, Broken Bread and Broken Bodies: The Lord’s Supper and World Hunger, rev. ed. (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2004).
[86] William Robinson, Completing the Reformation, 51, writes: “No one can partake of the Christian sacraments without realizing the terrific impact this ought to have on his life in economic and political realities, in fashioning the events of our time nearer to the pattern of ‘God’s time’ which will be fulfilled in the ‘last time.’ We cannot escape the responsibility laid upon us if we are truly ‘partakers of Christ.’”
[87] William Robinson, Completing the Reformation, 60, escribe: “Men and women should see in the church, in its fellowship life, in those who commune with the body and blood of Christ, the spearhead of the kingdom. It is our Lord’s express purpose that the will of God should be done on earth as it is in heaven, and it cannot be so done until it is done in us. What this is to mean in the sacrifice of our own selfish interests, in the economic, social, and political life of our time may be left to the imagination of each reader, as he comes face to face with the reality of our Lord’s sacrificial life and death in the service of Holy Communion. If he does not find here that judgment upon his own conscience and that strength and grace to enable reformation, he will find them nowhere else.”
[89] Aquí es donde la fracción del pan en el barco, en Hechos 27, contribuye a una comprensión misional de la Eucaristía. Para una defensa de esta lectura, véase Barrett, Hechos, 2:1208-10.
[93] See Leithart, “The Way Things Ought to Be,” 166, 172-73. Cf. Paul H. Jones, Christ’s Eucharistic Presence: A History of the Doctrine (New York: Peter Lang, 1994), 45. This is the major thesis of my book Come to the Table: Revisioning the Lord’s Supper.
I graduated from Freed-Hardeman University in 1977, and I remember well the discussions of “Crossroads” and the beginnings of a discipling ministry that grew into the Boston Movement and then the International Churches of Christ. I began full time teaching in higher education among Churches of Christ in 1982 and am now in my thirty-ninth year, including the last twenty years at Lipscomb University. The history of the International Churches of Christ and my own vocation have spanned the same years. Yet, our paths have only occasionally crossed, though I have known some from our years together at Freed-Hardeman, others because they were students in classes or encounters at various events, and several through social media friendships.
My knowledge of the ministry of the International Churches of Christ is sporadic rather than systematic, though I have read Stanback’s Into All Nations: A History of the International Churches of Christ as well as reading several books by leaders within the movement. Consequently, I hope you will forgive any errors that arise out of my ignorance or lack of understanding. But my task is not to reflect on your theological interests and development but upon my own.
Studying and teaching the Bible, historical theology, and systematic theology in both the church and the University for almost forty years, I have traveled my own theological journey with significant twists and turns. Through personal tragedies and theological controversies, I navigated a faith journey that I did not expect or desire when I graduated from Freed-Hardeman. I am grateful for this opportunity to process this with you in this forum.
The most basic definition of theology is “faith seeking understanding.” Believers begin with a basic first-order sense of allegiance to Jesus whom the Father sent in the flesh through the power of the Spirit for our sake. This personal, core commitment is faith, allegiance, or trust in what God has done for us through Jesus in the Spirit. When this faith seeks deeper understanding or yearns to fully perform the drama of God’s redemptive story, believers pursue a deeper theological interest to grasp the breath, depth, and height of God’s love. As I reflected on my own personal theological journey in the context of Churches of Christ, I have identified five areas where development in my understanding has impacted my theological commitments. These areas are: (1) Doxology; (2) Hermeneutics; (3) Pneumatic Unity; (4) Sacraments; and (5) Discipleship.
For the purposes of this paper and conference, I will not seek to defend my development as much as explain it and identify what promise it has for our future performance of the biblical drama and future communion among Christ-followers.
Doxology
By “doxology” I mean the praise or worship of the transcendent God whose thoughts and ways are beyond my understanding. This contains two major concerns. First, it affirms the transcendence of God which means that our thoughts about God always fall short of the fullness of God. This entails a significant dose of epistemological humility as we recognize that we not God and God is God. Second, it means our theological statements about God are fundamentally doxological, that is, they are statements of praise that do not fully comprehend God though they communicate the reality of God to sufficiently perform the drama. We approach God through the lenses of awe and wonder rather than primarily through the lenses of intellectual comprehension and philosophical coherence. Third, worship fuels mission. Filled with the wonder of God and basking in the grace of God’s good gifts, we embrace our mission as participants in the mission of God.
For example, the Psalms, as we might expect, ooze the doxological commitments of their authors and illustrate a doxological approach to theology. For example, Psalm 62 arises out of the experience of a believer traumatized by assaults, whether physical, spiritual, or emotional (62:3-4). Despite this trauma, the Psalmist calls the people to trust God at all times and pour out their hearts because God is a refuge for believers (62:8). The ground or basis for this exhortation, despite the circumstances, are two affirmations about God in 62:11-12. The Psalmist confesses:
Once God has spoken;
twice I have heard this:
that power belongs to God,
and steadfast love belongs to you, O Lord.
Believers are empowered by a sense of God’s identity, which arises out of worship, especially through communal liturgy. This worship is a response to God’s story or God’s acts in history which not only ground the worship of Israel but evoke it. The Psalmist has heard the story. The assemblies of Israel rehearsed the story of God’s gracious work, for example, in the Exodus where God demonstrated divine power and steadfast love. It is not so much the rational evaluation of God’s work or a philosophical assessment of God’s deeds but the rehearsal of God’s history with Israel in liturgy or worship that yielded this confidence. Israel’s experience of God in the Exodus grounded their worship, and their worship fueled their participation in the mission of God.
The origins of Churches of Christ, and the beginnings of my own faith as part of that tradition, were fundamentally shaped by rationality. In particular, we embraced (1) an objective reading of the Bible, (2) rational discourse about God, and (3) the impulse to fit God’s work within the confines of a rational box. I subjected my Bible, and consequently my God, to critical intellectual analysis while all the while trusting in the truth of the object of my study, which trust has never wavered. I even completed a graduate degree in philosophy as well as one in theology to help with this pursuit.
I am certainly not opposed to philosophical inquiry, but it needs a heavy dose of humility. Reason cannot drive mission; it will burn out. Reason cannot exhaust God; it is too finite. Reason cannot explain all the mysteries of the faith; it does not have access. Actually, reason confesses the mystery. Of course, I have not rejected reason. I am reasoning with you in the present moment. But I have flipped the priority.
It seems that human rationality often presumes that it can describe or even prescribe the limits of what is possible for God. This rationalistic approach assumes a realist understanding of the attributes of God which believes those attributes can be truly known, processed, and delimited by human rationality.
The doxological approach eschews philosophical abstraction and exalts liturgical contemplation. The church is, first and foremost, a worshipping community which images God’s character in our relationships. Worship calls us to be like the one whom we worship, and we worship the revealed God rather than the God of speculation. Rational understandings of God which constrain God are replaced with the praise of the God who is known through Scripture, experienced in life’s situations, and encountered in corporate worship. Instead of rationalistic and metaphysical grids, we seek God in a worship encounter and praise his attributes rather than trying to plummet he depth of their logical relations.
Consequently, our preaching and teaching about God should not be consumed with scholastic “problem-solving” but with praise, worship, and confession. It is the encounter with the living God through Scripture, worship, and life that has a meaningful impact on Christian lives. This means that the believer is worshipful, trusting, and confident through the trials and joys of life.
I am much more comfortable with mystery now than I was previously. I don’t have to figure everything out. When it comes to some of the deep questions of our faith, such as the problem of evil, I am willing to plead ignorance and embrace a skeptical theism which essentially says my brain is too small to understand the work of God. I do not expect reason to satisfy all my questions. Worship, rather than the achievements of the human intellect, secures comfort and drives mission.
Hermeneutics
As faith seeks understanding, we do want to understand God. This search, however, is not through philosophical abstraction but through living within the narrative of the Biblical drama, the story of God. Our understanding of God is forged and shaped by our engagement with the history of God’s work in the biblical narrative from creation to new creation. Consequently, how we read the Bible is of supreme importance. How we read the Bible will determine what the Bible means for us, how we understand what God requires of us, how we “do church,” and how we pursue God’s mission in the present.
Hermeneutics is the process by which we discern what is required, forbidden, optional, or expedient. Sometimes we think it is as simple as reading the Bible and doing what it says. For example, if the Bible says “X,” then we do “X.” But, actually, everyone introduces a middle step into this process. We recognize this middle step because we do not practice everything the Bible teaches. We make distinctions so that we do not simply reproduce ancient culture in the present, and we make distinctions about what is essential and what is optional. We make contextual judgments about dispensations, cultural settings, meaning of words, contexts, and many other factors. Hermeneutics is the middle step between the text and our practice of the text. Everyone has a middle step.
Growing up in Churches of Christ, I practiced a hermeneutic that sought an implicit blueprint for the work and worship of the church in Acts and the Epistles. We sought this blueprint through a filter of distinctions between generic and specific commands, an understanding of how a specified command excludes its coordinates, how the lack of implicit or explicit authorization forbids practices, and how to distinguish between expediency and prohibition when Scripture is silent in addition to many other rules for how the Bible authorizes. Consequently, I shifted through the commands, examples, and inferences within the New Testament to deduce a blueprint. That blueprint became the standard of faithfulness and the mark of the true church. And if everyone agreed upon and practiced the blueprint, we would be united! Finding and practicing the blueprint because the foundation of both my assurance (“was I in the right church?”) and unity among believers (if we agreed on the blueprint’s details).
The inadequacies of this approach as well as its subjectivity (every conclusion and most steps along the way were inferences) created doubts. As distinctions accumulated and inferences abounded, I began to realize the blueprint was more the product of human rationalization than it was explicit in God’s story. It did not appear on the surface of the text, and if it was in the text, its pieces were scattered across a wide field. As I read Scripture, this is not how the apostolic witness called people to gospel obedience. They did not read Scripture or write Scripture with a blueprint lens. Something different was going on.
The problem, it seems to me, is the location of the pattern. The pattern is not found in an implied blueprint in Acts and the Epistles. Paul does not call people to obedience based on a blueprint located in the practices of the church. Instead, he calls them to obedience based on the pattern manifested in the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and exaltation of Jesus. We conform to this pattern. We obey the gospel, which is the story of Jesus, rather than a blueprint we have inferred from the text but is not explicitly there.
Hermeneutics always involves inferences, whether one pursues a blueprint hermeneutic or a theological one. We cannot escape them; every application is an inference. But here is the significant point: the pattern is not an inference. On the contrary, it is the story in which we live. It is the narrative air we breathe. The pattern of God’s work through Christ in the power of the Spirit is clear, objective, and formative. It is the story told in Scripture; it is an explicit pattern.
We will find unity when we confess the same pattern, and the shame of divisions among Churches of Christ is that we already confess the same pattern. Our pattern is God in Jesus through the Spirit, or our pattern is Jesus. Here we are united, and our hermeneutics (whether blueprint or theological) must not undermine that unity but discern ways to faithfully embody it.
The Unity of the Spirit
Unity is the “unity of the Spirit” (Ephesians 4:3). It is created and empowered by the Spirit who is the creative power of God that breathes life into both the present age and the age to come. The Spirit is the one by whom we commune with each other and with God.
Briefly, I offer five modes of visible unity that give expression to the underlying unity of the Spirit among believers. These five practices not only exhibit the unity of the Spirit but are also means by which the Spirit dynamically works among believers for both unity. The Spirit acts through them to manifest the unity that the Spirit has already achieved. At the same time, these practices are also transformative as they move us not only into a deeper experience of that unity but also function to transform us as exhibits of that unity.
1. Confession. We confess Jesus is Lord by the Spirit (1 Corinthians 12:3). Paul provides the ground of this point: “No one is able to say “Jesus is Lord” except by the Holy Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:3). This is an orienting, centering confession. The confession arises out of the Spirit’s work, operates within the life of the Spirit, and lives in the community of faith because we have all drunk of the Spirit (1 Corinthians 12:13). This confession is, however, made in a context, that is, the divine drama, which is summarized in numerous places in Scripture (e.g., Acts 10:34-43). It shapes the confession of the lordship of Jesus and locates believers in the flow of the history of God’s people. We confess the Father as creator, Jesus as the Son of God, and the Holy Spirit as the communion of believers. Theologically, we acknowledge that whoever confesses “Jesus is Lord” does so “in the Spirit.” We may embrace the unity of believers through this confession because it is the result of the Spirit’s enabling presence.
2. Transformation. We are sanctified by the Spirit (1 Thessalonians 4:3-8). We all know the saying of Jesus, “by their fruits you will know them” (Matthew 7:16). Sanctification is the work of the Holy Spirit who indwells, empowers, and gifts us for new life in Christ. Theologically, transformation is the goal of God’s agenda. Transformation is an effect of communion. God transforms us by the presence of the indwelling Spirit. The fruit of the Spirit is evidence of our union with God. The fruit of the Spirit is the life of the Spirit already present in us. We may embrace the unity of believers through this shared, Spirit-empowered sanctification.
3. Liturgy. We worship in the Spirit (John 4:24; Philippians 3:3). The foundation of liturgy is the work of the Spirit. Our liturgical acts—not necessarily our precise liturgical forms—are deeply rooted in the work of the Spirit. Assembly, as communal praise and worship, is mediated by the Spirit. We worship the Father through the Son in the Spirit. Assembly, as an eschatological, transforming, and sacramental encounter with God, happens in the Spirit; it is a pneumatic event. This is what gives significance and meaning to assembly, and it is also the root of the unity we experience through assembly as the whole church—throughout time and space—is gathered before the throne of the Father in the Spirit. To recognize that (1) the Spirit is the means by whom we commune with and experience God, (2) this means is not dependent upon perfectionistic obedience to specified forms, and (3) the Spirit is not limited by such forms. This enables us to affirm the presence of the Spirit among those communities who do not share the forms that we think are most biblical. In the Spirit we embrace the unity of fellow worshippers through our eschatological and sacramental encounter with God in assembly.
4. Practicing the Kingdom of God. We minister in the power of the Spirit (Luke 4:18-19). The Spirit anointed Jesus, led him into the wilderness, and empowered him for ministry in Luke 3-4. This is the ministry of the kingdom of God in which Jesus practices the kingdom by heralding the good news of the kingdom, exercising authority over the principalities and powers, and healing brokenness. Jesus is sent, and he sends disciples. This is the missional ministry into which disciples are called. This praxis is an expression of the life of the Spirit within the community, and the community of Jesus, empowered by the Spirit, continues the teaching and doing of Jesus, that is, they continue to practice the kingdom of God. When disciples practice the kingdom of God, the Spirit is present. Where the Spirit is present, Jesus is present. This is a missional ecumenism. In the Spirit, we embrace the unity of believers through shared ministry, that is, shared participation in the proclamation and practice of the good news of the kingdom of God, which is the mission of God.
5. Spiritual Formation Practices. We pray in the Spirit (Jude 20). Disciples, united in prayer, are united in the Spirit. The practice of prayer (as well as other disciplines) is rooted in the work of the Spirit. The Spirit is present to listen and speak in these moments. When a community practices them together, or each member of a community practices them in their own walk with God, the Spirit works to unite us through shared experiences and shared communion. In the Spirit, we may embrace the unity of believers through the shared experience and communion in prayer.
Through the practice of these gifts, the Spirit mediates a proleptic experience of our eschatological unity, a unity that is already but also, in some sense, not yet. Together, we confess Jesus is Lord; together, we seek transformation; together, we participate in the eschatological assembly; together, we practice the kingdom of God; and together, we pray in the Spirit. That is, at least in part, the unity of the Spirit.
Sacraments
Sacrament names the mystery of God’s action through the external means of water, wine, bread, and communal assemblies as we experience the story of God in specific moments. Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and assemblies are dramatic rehearsals of the story through which God renews communion and empowers transformation. By faith, the community participates in this story and rehearses that story together as the church shares the sacramental reality together through water initiation, bread/wine nourishment, and gathering in the power of the Spirit.
These gospel ordinances have ordinarily been construed something like this. Baptism is the means of grace for justification through participation in the death and resurrection of Jesus. The Lord’s Supper is the means of grace for sanctification through remembrance of the death of Jesus and communion with the living Christ. The Lord’s Day or the weekly assembly is the means of grace for communal worship through celebration of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus. In this sense, they are not mere gospel ordinances that merely bear witness to the gospel, but they are also sacramental means through which believers experience the grace of the gospel in the Spirit. In other words, these gospel symbols mediate the presence of Christ to his community. They are more than signs; they are participatory symbols through which God acts.
They are not substitutes for discipleship or transformation but rather moments of encounter with God through which we are moved along the path of discipleship toward entire sanctification. This kind of sacramentalism is not popular. Evangelicals and the positivistic hermeneutic typical in Churches of Christ have something in common—they ultimately disconnect the sacraments from discipleship and empty all sacramental imagination from these ordinances. Baptism becomes either a mere sign or a test of loyalty. The Lord’s Supper becomes an anthropocentric form of individualistic piety. Assembly becomes either the ongoing public test of faithfulness (part of the definition of a “faithful Christian”) which degenerates into a legalism or fundamentally a horizontal occasion for mutual encouragement which is susceptible to pragmatic consumerist ideology.
These sacramental moments mark our journey with God and the church of God. Baptism is a means of grace through which we encounter the saving act of God in Christ through his death and resurrection. We participate in the gospel and are renewed by the Spirit through our burial and resurrection with Christ. The Lord’s Supper is a means by which we experience the presence of the living Christ and enjoy a renewal of future hope. Indeed, we experience that future anew every time we eat and drink at the Lord’s table. It is an authentic communion with God through Christ in the power of the Spirit. Assemblies, wherever and whenever a community of Jesus’ disciples gather to seek God’s face (e.g., to pray), are moments when we draw near to the Father and Jesus in their eschatological glory by the Spirit. These assemblies participate in the eschatological assembly as the Spirit ushers us into the heavenly Jerusalem where we share the future with all the saints gathered around the world and spread throughout time. Assembly, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper are moments of communion, transformation, participation, and encounter.
This yields at least three significant points. First, the sacraments are authentic encounters with God. The sacraments are not bare or nude signs but means of divine action. They are divine gifts through which we may experience God as God comes to us in grace and mercy. God is not absent from the creation and only dwelling in the “spirituality” of our consciousness, but God is present through the creation as the Spirit existentially and communally unites us with Christ through water, through bread and wine, and through gathering.
Second, the sacraments serve our faith as moments of assurance which our feeble hearts can grasp through materiality. God’s promise is connected to the signs. Faith assures us that Jesus is ours as surely as are bodies are washed, our lips sip wine, and the people of God are gathered. The sacraments are means of assurance for disciples of Jesus.
Third, the sacraments are communal experiences of God. As God created community and redeems a community, so the divine presence comes to us in community as well. Baptism, Lord’s Supper, and assemblies are shared experiences through which God is present to bind us together. We were baptized into one body, we eat the one body of Christ together, and we are the body of Christ in assembly united with the church triumphant as well as militant.
Discipleship
One of my favorite quotes from James A. Harding, the co-founder of Lipscomb University and the namesake of Harding University, is a comment on the practice of protracted meetings. “I have observed,” he wrote, “that those speakers as a rule secure the greatest number of accessions who dwell most upon escaping hell and getting into heaven, and least upon the importance of leading lives of absolute consecration to the Lord; in other words their converts are much more anxious to be saved than they are to follow Christ.”[1]
Discipleship, an obedient following of Jesus, has always been a central value of Churches of Christ. Unfortunately, sometimes this was reduced to particular ecclesial forms or minimized in other ways or even, perhaps, located in a particular practice or outcome. Thus, while obedient discipleship remained important, it was often expressed in some authoritarian attitudes about church attendance, obedience to elders, and/or communal submission.
When “Crossroads” began highlighting discipleship as a primary way of envisioning the Christian life, this drew on the resources of the tradition as well as contemporary movements within Protestant Christianity. I remember how grateful I was for that emphasis, and I was thrilled by the potential of that renewal, though many of my contemporaries did not share my enthusiasm.
I have always thought that the separation of Churches of Christ and the Boston Movement was lamentable. Churches of Christ, rather than embracing and pursuing the value of discipleship and disciple-making, began to fear the language of discipleship and discipling, and we lost, in general, our commitment to following Jesus through making others fishers of people. Though the International Churches of Christ have experienced their own struggles with understanding and practicing discipleship and disciple-making, it is time for Churches of Christ to learn from our brothers and sisters in the International Churches of Christ. I am grateful that now there are strong movements within Churches of Christ for the renewal of discipleship and disciple-making, and I hope our two traditions might find some spaces like this to enrich each other, particularly regarding a theology of discipleship.
“Follow me,” Jesus says. Discipleship means imitating Jesus by entering into his life. We follow Jesus into the water and are baptized. We follow Jesus into the wilderness and seek solitude with God. We follow Jesus into intimacy with others and seek out friends with whom we can reveal our true selves. We follow Jesus to the tables of both the righteous and the sinner. We follow Jesus by taking up his mission in the world. We follow Jesus by apprenticing others just as he apprenticed his own disciples. Follow Jesus means participating in the mission of Jesus from baptism to the table, from heralding the good news to liberating the oppressed, and from solitude in the wilderness to discipling others.
The mission of Jesus depends on apprenticing others, discipling others in the faith. We do not become disciples of Jesus in solitude or alone. We become disciples through community and apprenticeship. Others took us under their wings. They taught us, modeled life for us, invited us to walk with them, and mentored us. The call to discipleship—the invitation to participate in the life of God through Jesus—involves discipling others. Following Jesus entails inviting others to follow him as well.
Ultimately, the kingdom is about discipleship–following Jesus–rather than a self-interested notion of “getting to heaven.” Christianity is about participating in the coming of heaven to earth rather than inheriting of a mansion in the sky.
Conclusion
I hope you are able to see a fundamental trajectory in my presentation. It is a movement from the wonder and awe of God’s presence to participation in the mission of God. We begin with doxology, and this fuels mission. Moreover, doxology invites us into the drama of God’s story. We enter this story through the reading of Scripture, and we rehearse in our assemblies and proclaim in our words, sacraments, and ministries. We seek to embody the story of God, and this is empowered by the presence of the Spirit who unites us, transforms us, and gifts us for the mission.
The church, moved by doxological praise and understanding God’s story, experiences the communion of God’s life through its sacraments and mission because of the work of the Spirit. Through this common practice, together we are apprenticed into the story of God as disciples of Jesus.
[1] James A. Harding, “About Protracted Meetings,” Gospel Advocate 27, no. 37 (14 September 1887) 588.
Since I am sometimes asked to offer an opinion about the “Deuteronomy 32 Worldview” (or “The Divine Council Worldview”) unpacked by Dr. Heiser in his book The Unseen Realm, I thought I would reflect on his perspective in a blog post. This will save me some time when responding to inquirers. Though this is far too brief given the voluminous material available, this is my first attempt to say something in print about his work.
Before I unpack my understanding of Heiser’s worldview, I caution the reader that I am no expert regarding his work. I have read a couple of his books, watched dozens of videos (out of hundreds), read some of his blogs, and listened to dozens of podcasts by him, interviews with him, and podcasters supporting him (as well as a few critiques). However, there is more that I have not seen, read, or listened to than I have. Consequently, I may totally misunderstand him, or he may have explained something somewhere about which I am ignorant. What I say, then, is tentative and needs further exploration or explanation. I certainly do not have any final word about his “worldview”—far from it; this blog is only a beginning probe, undertaken by a beginner in all things Heiser. So, I am sure I have misunderstood or misnamed some elements. I invite correction so that I might not only be fair to our late brother but also to learn from him.[1]
A Summary of Heiser’s “Worldview”
Heiser’s book is a narrative unfolding of the story of God from creation to new creation in the light of the fundamental conflict between rebellious elohim (gods, heavenly beings) with their servants (human rebels) and Yahweh whose loyal servants follow the Most High El (God, Yahweh). Heiser styles it the “Deuteronomy 32 Worldview” (or “Divine Council Worldview”) because Deuteronomy 32:8-9 provides a touchstone for seeing the cosmos through a particular lens. While the Hebrew noun elohim may refer to Yahweh (and most often does), it can also refer to heavenly spiritual beings (thus, “gods” or perhaps a variety of “angels”). Yahweh is an elohim (a heavenly, spiritual being) but no other elohim is Yahweh because Yahweh is the Most-High El. These heavenly beings are not the creator nor are they comparable to Yahweh. They are radically and ontologically different. Though called “gods” (elohim), they are not supreme and are themselves creatures (they are not eternal but created like what we typically think about angels). In essence, elohim may, at times, refer to any being who is spirit (ruach, in contrast to body) and resides in the heavens (a spiritual location). But Yahweh alone is eternal and sovereign. Heiser is a monotheist, not a polytheist since the elohim are created beings whom Yahweh gifted with residence in the heavenlies.
Yahweh created a family to partner with Yahweh (who is the Triune Creator) in shepherding and ruling the creation. This family has both unseen divine (“sons of God”) members—including the divine council—and a visible human family (Adam was also a “son of God”). Both lived together in Eden. Yahweh intended Eden to eventually fill the earth where both the divine and human members of God’s family would live together in harmony. The “sons of God” (the divine council) were present at creation. Consequently, they had greater knowledge than the human family (Adam and Eve). For example, they already had a knowledge of “good and evil” that Adam and Eve did not have (Genesis 3:22). The members of both the divine and human families, however, possessed free will and were capable of loyalty (partnering with God) or rebellion (seeking autonomy).
Creation experienced a detour. The story in Genesis 3-11 proceeds with a succession of rebellions. Coaxed by one of Yahweh’s elohim who was jealous of humanity, Adam and Eve rebelled. This resulted in the exclusion of the couple from Eden as well as the casting down of the rebel el (god) as lord of the underworld (or death). Another rebellion came in the form of “sons of God” (Yahweh’s elohim) copulating with the “daughters of men” (human beings), which produced the Nephilim (e.g., giants or a warrior race), though not all the “sons of God” rebelled (as is evident from Job 1). Another rebellion came in the form of human hubris to erect an idolatrous sanctuary at Babel.
At this moment, Yahweh decided to choose a nation as the means by which the promised seed (cf. Genesis 3:15) would redeem the world. Yahweh chose Israel and covenanted with them as God’s firstborn son among the nations. But Yahweh divided the other seventy nations of Genesis 10 among the elohim to rule, according to Heiser’s reading of Deuteronomy 32:8-9. These elohim, whether already rebellious or they later became rebellious (Heiser’s view), enslaved the nations to evil and fomented conflict between Israel (Yahweh’s covenant people) and the nations (whom the elohim ruled). These elohim did not rule justly and the Psalmist called upon Yahweh to judge the earth that was ruled by these elohim in unrighteousness (Psalm 82). The history of Israel is a history of this conflict as the rebel elohim and the enslaved nations sought to destroy Israel or to enslave Israel by bringing them under their rule.
Yahweh sent the unique (monogenes), fully divine and uncreated Son of God to redeem Israel and the nations from the rule of these elohim. This one of a kind Son of God is Yahweh incarnate; Yahweh in the flesh. The work of Jesus as the Messiah was to suffer death as our substitute and break the chains of the elohim by his resurrection. The ministry of Jesus reversed the curse, liberated Israel and the nations, and dealt with the guilt and power of sin. In the incarnation of the Logos and the outpouring of the Spirit in Acts 2 Yahweh is revealed as a triune Godhead (or Trinity): Father, Son, and Spirit. Heiser argues there are strong indications of this Godhead in the Hebrew Scriptures as well. The three persons are equally divine, uncreated, and ontologically superior to the created elohim. This triune Godhead is the one God of Israel, Yahweh, the Creator of all that exists and the Eternal Sovereign of the cosmos.
The story of Israel continues through the church as Israel and the nations give their allegiance to Yahweh as Father, Son, and Spirit. The people of God align themselves with Yahweh through baptism (a loyalty oath), gather in communities loyal to Yahweh and dedicated to each other, and proclaim the message of Yahweh’s victory over the rebel elohim. Ultimately, when the Messiah, the Davidic Son of Man, returns to finally destroy the rebellious nations and defeat the rebellious elohim (as in Revelation 19:11-21), Yahweh will rule the new heaven and new earth and fill it with righteousness and peace. This is what Yahweh intended from the beginning, starting with Eden (Revelation 21-22). Eden is restored in a glorified state because of the victory of Jesus over the powers and principalities.
Affirmation
I share a lot of common ground with Heiser regarding the narrative plot of Scripture, and I would affirm the following points in agreement with him (and this is not an exhaustive list).
Yahweh alone, as three persons in the Godhead, is the creator of the cosmos and ontologically different from everything else that exists.
The divine council has a function in the biblical narrative; it may be referenced by the plural elohim as in Psalm 82 or the “sons of God” as in Job 1. They are heavenly partners with God in the unseen realm.
The “serpent” in Eden is a created being who is a member of the heavenly (divine) council. He rebelled against Yahweh by seeking to undermine the divine project and wrest control of the world through deceiving humanity. He is not, however, “the satan” of Job 1-2 (the adversary or accuser; hasatan in Hebrew). That heavenly being, as one of the sons of God, is a prosecutor within the divine council for Yahweh’s interests in the world.
The conflict between Israel and the nations is rooted in the conflict between Yahweh and the rebellious elohim. This conflict continues in the present. Paul names them as the “principalities and powers,” and Revelation identifies these powers as the Dragon who rules through his beasts.
The work of the incarnate Yahweh who is Jesus, the Messianic Son of David and Son of Man, includes and highlights a Christus Victor theology of atonement (though not the only atonement metaphor used in the New Testament). The Messiah defeats the powers and ultimately destroys the rebellious elohim.
The work of these heavenly beings (the elohim as a whole) is to serve Yahweh and humanity, and ultimately humanity will be enthroned with the Davidic King, Jesus the Messiah, to reign over the heavenlies. [For Heiser, humans will sit in the divine council and replace the rebellious elohim who were part of the council.]
Heiser emphasizes a strong sense of continuity between the story of God in the Hebrew Scriptures and the story of God in the New Testament, between Israel and the church (one people of God from Abraham into the eternal future), and between the origin (Eden) and the goal (new Eden). It is important to see the writers of the New Testament as living within and elaborating on the “worldview” of the Hebrew Scriptures. It is one story.
Questions/Concerns
First, while I see the enslavement of the nations to rebellious elohim as part of the story, I am not as certain about the identification of 70 council members imaged by the 70 elders of Israel (Exodus 24:1-11). These council members rule over the 70 nations derived from the Tower of Babel story in conjunction with Deuteronomy 32:8-9 (using the variant reading of Qumran and the LXX). While Heiser’s interpretation is credible, I don’t think it is necessary. Nor is it necessary to say that every nation has its own real deity or every nation has been assigned a god (one of the elohim); a guardian god to whom Yahweh has delegated the right to rule and judge. One can read the “prince of Persia” and “prince of Greece” in Daniel 10 in this light, though not necessarily. It may be a metaphor; it is uncertain. Moreover, I am not convinced, though I am not totally dissuaded either, that the “sons of God” in Genesis 6:1 are heavenly beings (e.g, the elohim). Succinctly, I am not so sure we can extrapolate a “worldview” from Heiser’s reading of Genesis and Deuteronomy. I think it is too ambiguous and uncertain to formulate a worldview that shapes all other readings of Scripture. It is important to affirm, however, that Yahweh uses rebellious elohim to rule and judge the nations, though without Yahweh giving up Yahweh’s own sovereignty (note: Heiser does not say Yahweh gives up ultimate sovereignty; quite the contrary). Perhaps that is a sufficiently grounded “worldview” that enables a healthy reading of the conflict between Yahweh and the rebellious elohim in the history of Israel and among the nations. While the heavenly beings were intended to partner with God in the unseen realm and humanity was intended to represent God in the visible realm, the rebellion of some of the elohim led humanity into its own rebellion.
Second, another question concerns the language of “sons of God” in the New Testament (e.g., Galatians 3:26, “you are all sons of God…”). I understand Heiser’s inaugurated eschatology (already sons in one sense, but not yet sons in another sense), but I am a bit disturbed by Heiser’s conclusion (as I understand it). Essentially, does he believe deceased saints (all of them?) will join the divine council and replace the deposed rebellious elohim such that these saints are now themselves elohim? I readily affirm that the redeemed “sons of God” will share in the inheritance of Jesus the Messiah, but not as those who sit in the divine council as elohim (heavenly spiritual beings) but as resurrected and glorified humans. In other words, they are still part of the human council (family) but not part of the divine council (elohim; family). They sit with the crowned and enthroned Messiah, the Son of David, as co-rulers over the cosmos. They sit as human royalty, not as divine elohim. And yet, due to the exaltation of the Messiah, redeemed humanity will sit in judgment upon the rebellious elohim and exercise authority over them. They are “sons of God” by adoption; they are part of the human family of God, just as Adam himself was a “son of God” in the beginning.
Third, while I am willing to see the narrative as a conflict between Yahweh and the rebellious elohim (some originally part of the divine council as sons of God), I fear Heiser’s reading of the whole narrative is so colored by this lens that he sometimes (perhaps often) sees more than is actually there in the text. For example, while listening to his podcast series on Hebrews, I thought some of his interpretations were problematic (e.g., his understanding of ecclesia [assembly] in Hebrews). He seems to see the divine council in texts that are neither explicitly nor readily amenable to such an understanding. So, my caution is that while the divine council perspective has legitimacy, let us be careful that we don’t read it into texts where it is not present or necessary for understanding what the text is doing. In other words, the language of “worldview” may justify framing texts under this rubric when they are not, in fact, expressing that rubric. Perhaps it is best to simply affirm the reality of the divine council rather than making it a “worldview.” Then again, perhaps I am making too much of the use of the word “worldview.”
Fourth, while I appreciate the intent to read the Hebrew Scriptures within their ancient near eastern context (and I affirm that goal) as well as to hear the writers of the New Testament in the context of a Hebraic worldview (including their use of Second Temple texts), I find it problematic to read the Hebrew Scriptures through the lens of the 1 Enoch (and other apocalyptic texts such that we assume the same meaning between them and the New Testament). I recognize 1 Enoch was a popular Jewish text and is referenced in Jude (also alluded to in 2 Peter). At the same time, I don’t think it is methodologically helpful to read the New Testament as an expression of the worldview present in 1 Enoch or to hear Genesis 6:1-4 in that context (which is a distant interpretation of that text). For example, the “watchers” appear only in Daniel 4:10, 14, and 20 in the Jewish Scriptures but they are main actors in 1 Enoch. Some interpreters have given that function a huge role in their understanding of the elohim in the Hebrew Bible. I think that is methodologically problematic.
Fifth, a significant hermeneutical question is whether the use of Ancient Near Eastern cultural contexts, language, and imagery is appropriated or affirmed by the writers of the Hebrew Bible. By appropriation I mean that perhaps this language is not always seeking to assert a reality but rather to deconstruct a Mesopotamian or Egyptian myth. I don’t deny the reality of the elohim or a divine council. At the same time, I do think sometimes (perhaps often) the biblical writers appropriate a nation’s cultural mythology and names for gods rather than assert their reality. But that is something that must be assessed on a case by case basis rather than through a philosophical principle that automatically excludes the reality of the elohim (such as happens in naturalism).
Sixth, I invite us all to some hermeneutical humility. It seems to me that advocates of the “Divine Council Worldview” are much more certain about their perspective than the evidence permits. Or, perhaps another way of saying this is that while Heiser’s reading of Genesis 1-3, 6, 11, Deuteronomy 32:8-9, and Psalm 82 is credible, it is not certain. I think it is difficult to build a “worldview” from such controverted texts. At the same time, I must assume a humble position to listen and learn as I am sure that I have missed some important features of the biblical drama. Indeed, I have learned much from Heiser, even though the “worldview” language is a bit disconcerting to me.
Seventh, this point is not a criticism but an acknowledgement. Heiser’s “worldview” is a systematic construct (a function of systematic theology). While he rightly points to features of his worldview in the text as a function of biblical theology, his presentation of this worldview as a coherent systematization of the biblical data is a constructive act, that is, he produces a system with working parts based on his reading of the whole Bible. That is not necessarily a bad thing; we all do it to one extent or another. Yet, systems tend to see themselves where they do not actually appear in the text, and they have a tendency to unwittingly reform the data to fit the system. This is a danger for all systems, and we all share that danger with our own systems (yes, we all have one). In such cases, the system forms the meaning of the text rather than permitting the text to speak for itself and on its own terms (and the latter is something Heiser rightly insists upon). I am quite confident that Heiser does not want the system to dictate biblical interpretation and counsels us to avoid such practices. Nevertheless, it happens to all of us, and it is a caution for any who seek to sustain a constructed “worldview” that is not itself explicitly systematized in the text itself.
Conclusion
I never met Dr. Heiser, but I know some who knew him and even studied with him. I have no doubt he was a careful and humble scholar. I honor his work, and I appreciate his insights. They have helped me deepen my knowledge and understanding of God’s story in Scripture. In fact, if I were to revise my theodrama book Around the Bible in 80 Days: The Story of God from Creation to New Creation, I would include some of his insights and emphasize some aspects more than I did. I have learned from him.
At the same time, we must all practice a radical humility in envisioning the unseen heavenly realm and interpreting Scripture’s unveiling of that realm. There is, as we all know, so much we don’t know and don’t understand. For that reason, I tend to focus my attention on God’s actions in history and our human responses rather than on what the elohim are doing or have done in unseen ways and in unseen regions. It is a theodrama (which Heiser would not deny, of course); it is about God’s acts. I realize the elohim interact with and participate in the theodrama in relation to humanity (they are both humanity’s servants and adversaries, depending on their allegiances in the conflict), and yet I think their workings are not as clear or revealed as some think. We can disagree about that as brothers and sisters. I sure Dr. Heiser would welcome gracious disagreement as well.
This is why I would not elevate my thinking about the heavenly beings (elohim, angels, watchers, etc.) into a “worldview,” though they do have a function in the theodrama itself. Perhaps this is what Dr. Heiser means, and he has certainly contributed to understanding the theodrama in many ways. I am grateful for that.
May Heiser rest from his labors! Peace to all.
[1] I thank Stan Wilson for reviewing my piece before its publication (though not in this final form), and his comments were very helpful. Stan was a close friend of Heiser, and he wrote his dissertation exploring a topic suggested by Heiser with Heiser as an outside reader. Stan made several suggestions which I have incorporated, but—of course—I am responsible for the final form of this piece. Any mistakes are mine.
1. God—the Father, through the Son, in the power of the Spirit—created a blessed community with whom God dwelt in communion and with whom God partnered in order to fill, develop, and care for God’s good and blessed creation toward the divine goal and to enjoy God’s blessed seventh day. Yet, humanity created a rival story with its own agenda.
2. So, God blessed Abraham in order to bless all peoples. God dwelt with Israel, and God called Israel into a partnership to live redemptively among the peoples in order to illuminate God’s intent for the creation, draw all the peoples to God, and fill the earth with the knowledge and glory of God. Yet, Israel embraced the way of the peoples rather than pursuing God’s agenda, though God’s redemptive purposes were not thwarted.
3. Because of this brokenness, the Father sent the Son to reconcile all things. The Son dwelt in the flesh for commo-union, ministered as Israel’s Messiah in the power of the Spirit for the in-breaking of the kingdom, was put to death in the flesh for sin, was made alive in the Spirit for righteousness, and enthroned as new humanity at the Father’s right hand for the beginning of new creation in order to place every power under the rule of God.
4. So, the Father, through the Son, sent the Spirit to dwell among and renew, through faith in the Messiah, God’s partnership with renewed Israel, which heralds, embodies, and performs God’s mission. God’s people, filled with the Spirit, are sent into the world for the sake of the whole creation in order to lift up the Son to draw everyone to God and to fill the earth with the knowledge and glory of God through missional communities. Yet, these communities often fail, though God’s renewing Spirit is not thwarted.
5. These missional communities, embodying the divine mission, lead to God’s goal: the mutual indwelling of the Triune God with redeemed humanity as God dwells within a renewed, redeemed creation where righteousness, justice, and peace fill the creation.
This is the missional story of God—begun in (1) creation, restarted in (2) Israel, climaxed in (3) Jesus, continued in the (4) church, and fully realized in the (5) new heaven and new earth. This is the five-act drama of God’s narrative–a theodrama.
What is “missional”?
God’s story is about dwelling and filling—God dwells in order to fill. This is God’s missional agenda. The mission of God is performed in communities grounded in, shaped by, and moving towards the goal of God’s creation.
Missional Hermeneutics—Reading the Bible Missionally
“In short, a missional hermeneutic proceeds from the assumption that the whole Bible renders to us the story of God’s mission through God’s people in their engagement with God’s world for the sake of the whole creation.” Christopher Wright, “Mission as Matrix for Hermeneutics and Biblical Theology,” Out of Egypt (2004) 122.
The unity for which Jesus prayed in John 17 is not uniform beliefs and intepretations but the oneness of mutually indwelling love for each other in the Father of the Jesus the Messiah.
There is always diversity even while unity exists because we live as historically contingent persons situated in historical particularity.
We may recognize the boudnaries of particular historical Christian traditions without denying the unity of the people of God in Christ because these boundaries are rooted in the unavoidable particulality of Christian traditions.
We live within an already-not yet eschatological tension, which understands the “not yet” involves the fullest expression of unity that is unattainable in the alreadiness of present existence.
The Call to Christian Hospitality
Hospitality begins with the divine initiative; we are hospitable to others because God was first hospitable to us.
Christian traditions are particular expressions of faith within the flow of human history, and these traditions represent a commitment to a particular understanding of the faith rather than simply an affirmation of tradition (though the value of tradition is not undermined).
The Character of Christian Hospitality
Differentiation but not Exclusion. We can embrace each other even though we are differentiated. We can live distinctly without disruption of communion or connection.
A common confession of Jesus as the incarnate Son of God in conjunction with a commitment to love each other entails a common experience of the Spirit whom God has given to us (1 John 3:23-24).
We recognize a common story (the Rule of Faith, Apostles’ Creed), a common love, and a common goal. We embrace each other though are traditions are differentiated, but differentiation does not exclude; rather, it embraces.
Since October 7, 2023, that title has been my most popular blog post (written in 2013). It is probably rather disappointing to discover that the blog is an exposition of Amos 2:6-8. The prophet identified the sins of Israel as the oppression of the poor and needy, sexual immorality, and economic injustice.
Amos not only addresses Israel but also Gaza (1:6-7) as well as other nations and cities in chapter 1.
I have little doubt that the sins of Hamas, who ruled Gaza, abound as well. The attack on Israel on October 7 was horrendous and inexcusable.
At the same time, at present, the sins of the Israeli government also abound. Gaza is starving and innocents—children and their mothers—continue to die. This is unnecessary and preventable.
What would Amos say today?
I pray, following Psalm 58, that God will defang their power and remove their capacity to inflict such injustice upon an imprisoned people. I fear Israel, who responded in an understandable way to the October 7 attack, has been digging a ditch into which they themselves will fall.
At the same time, I also pray for a ceasefire, release of all hostages, and the free flow of food and medicine into Gaza.
James Thompson of Christianity Today asked for a statement about the Lord’s Supper. This is what I gave him (and it was published in the paper today).
“Table is the dominant metaphor among Churches of Christ. We practice it weekly. Given our Presbyterian roots, both Zwinglian (memorialist) and Calvinian (spiritual presence) perspectives are present. At the Table, we remember. At the same time, God communes with us, and we commune with each other.
While I affirm an authentic spiritual nourishment of the body and blood of Christ through the Spirit’s work (like Calvin), I also emphasize a Table presence where the living Christ is made known in the breaking of the bread (like Eastern Orthodoxy). The Table becomes an epiphany, revelation, or experience of the risen Lord.
At the Table, we give thanks for the gifts of the body and blood, eat with King Jesus as he hosts his Table, and celebrate the hope of the Resurrection in the coming kingdom. I highlight both the reverent nature of the Table as holy space and its festive nature, a joyous and hopeful celebration of the work of God in Christ. It is an eschatological moment when we already participate in the messianic banquet though it is not yet fully actualized.”
For a 2016 class, I prepared a statement of the gospel. I believe it is has a longer history but I am uncertain. Since I will soon begin reading Five Views on the Gospel (due out in June), I thought I would share my own thinking (at least as it appeared in 2016). Once I have read the Five Views book, then I will assess and see what sort of adjustments, expansions, or changes I might need to make to this summary. I am sure my summary is inadequate as a full account, though its focus might be on target. I expect my understanding of the gospel will be enriched by reading Five Views.
The point of this document is to articulate the gospel in terms of what God has done to accomplish God’s own purposes and goal. That, to me, is the gospel–God’s redemptive work. This statement neither attempts to define how to respond to the gospel (e.g, faith [or even allegiance], obedience to the gospel) or describe the gospel’s specific benefits (e.g., reconciliation, redemption, justification, sanctification, transformation, theosis, glorification, etc.). This document is focused on what the Father has done in the Messiah (or King) by the power of the Spirit to accomplish the Triune God’s redemptive work.
This is a 2016 statement. I resisted editing it or changing it, though I saw some places where I would like to do so.
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The good news is this: God has fulfilled the Abrahamic promise in Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God.
The Synoptics open with this announcement, whether it is the genealogy in Matthew, or Mark’s title, or Luke’s songs. The expanded salutation in Romans summarizes it (Romans 1:1b-4): “the gospel of God, which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures, concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be Son of God with power according to the Spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead, Jesus the Messiah our Lord.”
This good news was announced to Abraham (Galatians 3:8) and anticipated by the exiles (Isaiah 52:7; cf. Romans 10:15), but it arrived in the ministry of Jesus (Mark 1:15). The early church proclaimed the good news that Jesus is the Messiah (Acts 5:42; 8:12) who confirmed the good news of the promise (Romans 15:8), through whom the story of Israel came to its fulfillment (Acts 2; 3; 10; 13; 26:6), and by whom the Gentiles are included in the promise (Ephesians 2:17; 3:6-8). The Abrahamic promise is fully realized when God invites those who have persevered in faith (“overcome”) to “inherit these things, and I will be their God and they will be my children” (Revelation 21:7).
The good news is this: God has acted through Jesus the Messiah in the power of the Spirit to reverse the curse by inaugurating, effecting, and guaranteeing new creation. Or, more simply, Jesus the Messiah is both the good news embodied and the bearer of the good news of the kingdom of God.
The telos of creation, which tumbled off-track in the human tragedies of Genesis 3-11, is reaffirmed in the Abrahamic promise, anticipated in the story of Israel, proleptically actualized in the history of Jesus the Messiah, inaugurated in the history of the church, and fully realized in the inheritance of the new heaven and new earth. In this way, through Jesus the Messiah, Abraham and his descendants—those who trust in the Messiah—inherit the cosmos (Romans 4:13).
The “Christ Event” is the means by which this inheritance is secured. God keeps faith with Abraham through the Messiah, and God reconciles the world in the Messiah. By “Christ Event” I primarily mean an event within history (created time and space) though also mediated to us through an existential encounter in the Spirit.
The incarnation of the Logos as Jesus of Nazareth united God and humanity.
The ministry of Jesus proleptically realized the future in the present.
The death of Jesus defeated the powers through obedient surrender to God.
The resurrection of Jesus inaugurated new creation.
The enthronement of Jesus at the right hand of God guarantees the future of creation.
The “Christ Event” is the means to an end, and the good news is both the means and the end. The arrival of Jesus the Messiah is good news, and the end, accomplished through the Messiah, is also good news (the “good news of the kingdom”).
Incarnation. “God in the flesh” is good news because the person descended from Abraham is also the same one who descended from heaven by the virgin birth through the power of the Spirit, the Son of God. This one is both human and divine, and therefore unites God and humanity in intimate fellowship. The incarnation completes creation by realizing its telos, which is the mutual indwelling of God and humanity within the creation.
Ministry. The ministry of Jesus—empowered by the Spirit—is eschatological in character because the future, which is the kingdom of God, is proleptically present through the reconciling work of the Messiah. “The good news of the kingdom of God” is this: the blind see, the lame walk, the poor rejoice, the dead are raised, sins are forgiven, the oppressed are liberated, and people groups are reconciled. The promises to Israel are realized in the ministry of Jesus, and the curse is reversed.
Death. The death of Jesus defeated the powers arrayed against humanity. Those powers included sin, the demonic, and oppressive social structures. Jesus endured the cross in obedience to the Father, and through that obedience overcame evil, redeemed creation, and demonstrated both the love and righteousness of God. Through obedience unto death, the Son overcame evil with good.
Resurrection. The resurrection of Jesus by the power of the Spirit inaugurated new creation. As the firstborn from the dead, the resurrected Jesus is the beginning of new creation. He is the new humanity, which is the first installment or first fruit of a renewed creation, including the resurrection of the dead. Death is defeated, and new life is realized.
Ascension. The enthronement of Jesus at the right hand of God guarantees the future of creation. Jesus, as new human—the son of Abraham, son of David—reigns until creation is fully redeemed, including the redemption of humanity in body and soul. As the reigning Lord, Jesus pours out the Spirit upon the renewed Israel, the church, until the last enemy is destroyed.
The good news, then, is the faithfulness of God who keeps the Abrahamic promise to renew the creation, which results in the reconciliation of God, humanity, and creation. This includes such benefits as the forgiveness of sins, transformation of body and soul by the Spirit as new creation, and the destruction of opposing powers. This good news is accomplished by the faithfulness of Jesus the Messiah, who as both Son of God and Son of David, unites God and humanity so that they might dwell together within the creation.
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Biblical Texts, Pastoral Care, Theology | Tagged: Death, Ecclesiastes, Ecclesiastes 3:1-15, Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, Funeral, Hebel, Hope, Memorial, Seth Fletcher, Vanity | 
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Posted by John Mark Hicks