The Cross in the Earliest Christian Hymns (part 3)

There are three New Testament passages that are thought to be early hymns in honor of Jesus: Philippians 2:6-11, Colossians 1:15-20, and John 1:1-18. In their imagery, depth, and vision of Jesus they are unmatched. In the Philippian hymn and Colossian hymn the cross is prominent, occurring at the center of the hymn in Philippians and at the climactic end of the second stanza in Colossians. Given the importance of the cross for the early Christians, this is not surprising. What is surprising is that when we read John 1:1-18 the cross is not mentioned at all. Why and what does this tell us about the significance of the cross for the believers in John’s community?

First of all, there are probably good reasons that the cross is not mentioned in the John 1:1-18. It was not that the cross was not important to John. These verses function as a prologue to the whole of John’s Gospel. As such, they set out the major themes that will follow and serve to invite the reader to read the rest of the Gospel with the perspective that the prologue outlines. It is not necessary that a prologue should summarize the details of the following narrative. Further, the cross figures prominently in John’s Gospel as a whole. The cross is not specifically mentioned in the prologue since the reader would encounter it soon enough.

Second, in John’s Gospel it is important to note that the cross is not a shameful defeat for Jesus but represents instead the moment of the glorification of Jesus. Immediately after Judas left to betray him, leading to his crucifixion, Jesus said:

"Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him.” (Jn 13:31)

Here he was echoing the language of Isaiah: “You are my servant, Israel, in whom I will be glorified” (Is 49:3). The whole sequence of events leading up to the cross, beginning with the betrayal by Judas, was the way in which God’s glory was revealed. I sometimes have the tendency to think that God’s glory is revealed in the resurrection of Jesus—and it certainly is. But for John, the entire passion of Jesus was the revelation of God’s glory—not only the resurrection.

Third, though the cross is not mentioned in the prologue, the larger theme of the rejection of Jesus by the world certainly is. The prologue sets up a clear contrast between those who did not receive him and those who did. One stanza reads:

He was in the world,
and the world was made through him,
yet the world did not know him.
He came to his own,
and his own people did not receive him.
But to all who did receive him,
who believed in his name,
he gave the right to become children of God. (Jn 1:10-12)

So John talks not specifically about the cross here, but about the idea that there are those who rejected Jesus. This larger theme of the rejection of Jesus includes the rejection of Jesus by the Jewish leaders and by Pilate, the Roman ruler who had him crucified. Another stanza talks about the darkness trying to extinguish the light of Jesus:

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (Jn 1:5)

This is poetic and metaphorical, but the scope of this image is broad enough to include the notion that the cross, the attempt at snuffing out of the life of Jesus by the forces of darkness, was unable to quench the divine light. A third stanza may also refer to the crucifixion since, as we have seen, for John the cross is the “glorification” of Jesus:

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory (Jn 1:14)

The “Word” in John’s poetic prologue, is Jesus. What was this glory that John and his companions saw? For John, the glory of Jesus is not just the miracles, or the teaching, or the resurrection. The glory of Jesus mentioned here includes the cross.

So the prologue invites the reader of John’s Gospel to read the story that follows and to look for the glory of Jesus in each aspect of his life, and especially in the cross. In addition, when one reads about the rejection of Jesus, including the rejection of Jesus by Pilate, the Roman ruler, the reader knows that this is part of the divine pattern. The reader can find his or herself in the story as well, whether as one who rejects Jesus, or one who receives him and sees in the cross a revelation of the glory of God.

As hymns, these three poetic passages in John, Philippians, and Colossians give us a glimpse into some of the ways that the death of Jesus was remembered among the earliest Christians. His death on the cross was a source of divine reversals in Philippians, a source of reconciliation in Colossians, and a revelation of the glory of God in John. And there is much more that these passages have to teach us. In these hymnic passages we gain a glimpse of the mystery of the cross, a mystery that will always exceed our capacity to grasp its ultimate meaning, but a mystery for which we can humbly give thanks to God.

The Cross in the Earliest Christian Hymns (part 2)

Note: This is a follow-up to last week's entry on the cross in the hymn in Philippians 2.

As we progress in this Holy Week to remember the crucifixion of Jesus on Good Friday, another early Christian hymn tells us a little more about what the cross meant to the early Christian worshipers. One of the earliest hymns preserved in the New Testament is found in Colossians 1:15-20. It is probably not quite as early as the Philippian hymn and has a very different feel and style than that hymn. The Colossian hymn was written in a Greek rhetorical style while the Philippian hymn reflects more of a Jewish psalm style. And rather than a chronological narrative with a reversal at the focal point of the cross, the Colossian hymn describes Christ over two stanzas using honorific titles and descriptors:

Stanza 1

15 He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation;

16 for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible,

whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—

all things have been created through him and for him.

17 He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

18 He is the head of the body, the church.

Stanza 2

He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead,

so that he might come to have first place in everything.

19 For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell,

20 and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things,

whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace

through the blood of his cross.

As is fairly clear, the first stanza describes the supremacy of Christ in the realm of creation, while the second describes the supremacy of Christ in redemption. And it is in the work of redemption that the cross is mentioned, at the end of the second stanza. It is “through the blood of his cross” the following two things came about:

• The reconciling of all things to God, and,
• The making of peace.

There is a lot that could be said about those two accomplishments. One thing that is often overlooked is that these two accomplishments—reconciliation and peace making—were two primary claims made about the Roman emperor in the first century. If you recall your world history course, the Pax Romana (the Roman peace) was the term given to the peace that Rome brought about in the Mediterranean world. This was after an extended period of war and strife. Caesar Augustus claimed to have brought peace to the empire and reconciliation between warring factions. Of course, this was a peace brought about through military might and enforced through the subjugation of peoples and the execution of enemies. But it was “peace” nonetheless and something that the emperor claimed as his special accomplishment as a divinely appointed ruler of the world.

And here in this early Christian hymn, these same accomplishments of reconciliation and peace-making are attributed to Jesus. But for him it is not through military might but, as in Philippians, by means of the cross, the brutal symbol of Roman power.

The hymn does not explain how the blood of his cross makes peace. But the basic idea is that because of the cross, the parties that were at odds can be reconciled.

Stepping back to compare Philippians 2 and Colossians 1, it is clear that both hymns mention the cross. And in both cases a fuller appreciation of the Roman historical and cultural context enables us to grasp the significance of the cross a little more fully.

The Philippian hymn mentioned the cross as the turning point- the low point of Christ’s humiliation and the reason for the exaltation. But in the Philippian hymn there is a surprising absence: there is no mention of benefits accruing to humanity from the cross; no mention of salvation, forgiveness of sins, or redemption.

The Colossian hymn is different in this way. The cross is explicitly identified as the means through which God brings about peace and the reconciliation of all things. Paul applies this to the Colossians in vv. 21-22 and tells them “And you who were once estranged and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his fleshly body through death.”  Somehow, the cross is the means of reconciliation with God. And it is also another way that the supremacy of Christ is demonstrated. Because he was crucified and put to death, he can now be called not only the “firstborn over all creation” (stanza 1) but also the “firstborn from among the dead” (stanza 2). As the hymn says “so that in all things he might have the supremacy.”

If the Philippian hymn reminds us of the humility of Christ and of divine reversal, the Colossian hymn reminds us of the supremacy of Christ in creation and redemption. The cross is thus, again, not a triumph for the Romans but another indicator of the superiority of Jesus, the means by which he turns his enemies into his friends.

Given the importance of the cross in these two early Christian hymns, one might ask what role the cross plays in the other great early Christian hymn found in the New Testament: the hymnic prologue which opens up John’s Gospel. The answer is surprising.

The Cross in the Earliest Christian Hymns

The singing of psalms and hymns is a a practice which goes back to the very earliest Christian communities. Growing out of the model of Jewish worship and influenced as well by the practices of hymn-writing in the Greco-Roman world, Christians in the first century wrote hymns in honor of Jesus and recited them in their worship gatherings. As we approach Holy Week and consider the passion and crucifixion of Jesus, I wondered what the earliest hymns had to say about the cross of Christ. Did they mention it and, if so, in what way?

Source: MercyFoundation.com.au

Though it is not possible to reconstruct one standard set of specific words and rituals of early Christian worship for the first and second centuries, the New Testament does provide us some very interesting material to work with. The earliest texts that can be called “hymns” are found embedded in the New Testament: Phil 2:6-11, Col 1:15-20, and John 1:1-17. Each of these passages reflect the features of ancient hymnody. Even though we don’t know exactly how they were used in worship, they certainly give us a glimpse into what praise of Jesus included. And they each refer to the crucifixion either directly or indirectly as we will see.

 

Reading Phil 2:6-11 with an eye for the crucifixion it is clear that the cross is mentioned at a pivotal place in the hymn: the precise center. In this way the cross marks not only the center of the hymn but also the turning point. Prior to the mention of the cross, the hymn describes the downward trajectory of the subject, Jesus. After the mention of the cross, the hymn describes an incredible upward trajectory of exaltation.

Who, existing in the form of God,

did not consider equality with God a thing to be seized,

but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave,

being born in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a human, he humbled himself,

becoming obedient unto death—

even death on a cross.

Therefore God highly exalted him,

and gave him the name that is above every name,

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow

in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

And every tongue confess

that Jesus Christ is Lord

to the glory of God the Father. (Phil 2:6–11)

What is remarkable in the first century context was that a hymn of praise would celebrate something so horrible and shameful as the crucifixion. By including this in the hymn, the hymn-writer is making a claim about Jesus which goes entirely against the then-current cultural values. Rather than celebrating Jesus’s power or authority or leadership or eloquence, and brushing over any cause for embarrassment, the hymn actually highlights his humility, obedience, and self-sacrifice to the point of death. And in this way, the death of Jesus is remembered as a definition characteristic of Jesus’s life of obedience to God. It is also then offered as a model for believers.

One additional factor stands out. In a context in which Rome was the dominant political force in the world and in which that force was exercised by threat of death to those who opposed its rule, the cross was a symbol of Rome’s domination. In that very same context, it is remarkable that a Christian hymn writer would use that same symbol to demonstrate the supremacy of Christ. New Testament scholar Stephen Fowl explains it this way: “If Christ’s life was freely offered up to God in obedience, then although Rome can take the life, Rome cannot make Christ its victim. Ironically, they become unwitting agents in God’s economy of salvation” (Philippians [2005], 99).

 

And in this light we can really appreciate the way in which the cross represents a reversal: a reversal of values (the values of humility and obedience are exalted over self-seeking), a reversal of power (the seemingly unstoppable Roman empire exercising its brutal force is unknowingly furthering God’s plan), and a reversal that reveals the man Jesus as somehow the divine lord, receiving the homage of all creatures.

 

With the cross in the Philippian hymn as a starting point, it will be interesting to see what the emphasis is in the Colossian hymn and in John’s hymnic prologue. Comparing the three may give us some deep insights into the importance of the cross to the earliest Christians, those for whom the crucifixion was an event in the recent past. I'll turn to the Colossian hymn in my next post.

Commands of Jesus We Happily Ignore

I guess I have not read Mt 23:1-12 in a long time because when I read it in today’s Lenten gospel reading it really struck me that we Christians are highly selective in what aspects of Jesus’s teaching we follow. In this passage alone are several commands which Christians simply bypass. Jesus says, “Do whatever they [the Pharisees and scribes] teach you and follow it.” And later on he instructs them that they are not to be called “teacher,” “father,” or “instructor.” For my part, I don’t know anyone who takes these instructions at face value. I don’t know of any Christians who make pharisaic teaching a priority or who consciously seek to follow the teachings of the scribes and Pharisees from the first century. And as for not calling anyone father or teacher?

The reason for this is that we (appropriately) interpret the teachings of Jesus in light of their larger contexts: literary, cultural, and historical. In Jesus’s teaching in Mt 23:1-12 his main point is clear and is explicit in v. 12: “The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.” And Jesus makes this point, like any good teacher, through memorable statements and illustrations, and, in this case, through hyperbole. We know he doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t call anyone father; his point is that God is the one Father of all humanity, and humans shouldn’t take on titles that obscure that reality. If we were to obey that literal “command” we would actually be missing the point.

So as we read this passage in context, we take it as condemnation of those who teach the right thing but do not embody the accompanying humility; we take it on ourselves that we should follow that particular teaching (the humility part), and view the rest as somehow less important.

This is all very interesting to me as a professor of scripture since it raises all kinds of issues of interpretation. When people say they take the Bible literally, or just read the Bible and do what it says, it is just not so simple. Every reader of scripture must make these kinds of interpretive decisions on nearly every line. This is part of the “fun” of reading the Bible! But it can also be a source of real division when one group interprets a passage one way and another group takes it entirely differently—and then those differing interpretations are used to test whether one is “in” or “out” of “our” group.

The reality is that no one reads the Bible in a vacuum, free of other influences. Alongside the Bible we have a history of interpretation that is part of whatever Christian tradition we find ourselves in. In addition to our tradition, we also have our own reason and our own experience. Taken together, tradition, reason, and experience play very important roles in our interpretation of a sacred text like the Bible. This is as it should be, but sometimes we may forget this and think that what we are “seeing” in the text is the one obvious meaning. An awareness of the interplay of these various influences might at least give us some intellectual and spiritual humility as we engage with the views and interpretations of others who differ from us.

As for the point of this passage in Matthew, we are aided by other references throughout the New Testament to the importance of humility and taking the attitude of a servant. In fact, in one of the earliest examples we have of a hymn in praise of Jesus, it is the humility of Jesus that is the subject of the praise:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
6 who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
7 but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
8 he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross. (Phil 2:5-8)

In view of this emphasis on humility, this Lenten season seems to be a perfect time to exhibit humility about our interpretation of scripture. (And if you disagree with me about that...well, ok.)

Jesus in the Wilderness

“And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness” (Mark 1:12)

Lately I am not into wilderness. I don’t want to be in a place, physical or metaphorical, where I am at the mercy of the elements, where I am unsafe, where my very survival is at issue. I much prefer to be in control of my surroundings, feel safe in the life I have ordered, and have my mind on things higher up on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs than simply staying alive. Therapeutic moral deism—a popular distortion of Christianity which envisions a God whose sole purposes are to improve my life and help me follow clearly demarcated moral guidelines—encourages me, perhaps unintentionally, to avoid the wilderness. But here in the gospels, Jesus is led (driven!) by the Spirit into the wilderness. And here in Lent, if I am to enter into this season of reflection, I am invited to reflect on the reality of wilderness. And I am beginning to think that, in many ways, I am in the wilderness like it or not, so I might as well face it.

The biblical scholar in me is helpful at this point. I can take a step back from my personal feelings about entering the wilderness and ask what wilderness meant to the gospel writers, when they chose to include this detail from the life of Jesus in their narratives. Recognizing the cultural, historical, and literary context of this event from the life of Jesus is a good starting point. Such reflection can provide some guidance for more personal reflections about wilderness.

source: faith.nd.edu

For Jewish writers in the first century, the wilderness could be viewed as a place of individual isolation and struggle, but that was not its only meaning. The theme of “wilderness” also had many other connections, some with deep roots in the Jewish worldview embraced by the New Testament writers. Wilderness was the place where their ancestors had wandered for forty years: a place of communal (rather than individual) purification and testing. It was also a place of a place of divine revelation. Moses is associated with the wilderness, encountering God at the burning bush and receiving the Torah on Mt. Sinai, in addition to leading the Israelites through their wilderness wanderings. All of these aspects of Israelite history suggest the importance of wilderness for the early Jewish worldview. In addition, in the period of the Second Temple, the wilderness was a place where rebel leaders against oppressive regimes had gathered their forces, particularly in the Maccabean era. Finally, the wilderness has associations with the concept of exile: the forced removal of the people of Israel from the land of promise during the era of the monarchy. Though the Bible also recounts a return from exile in the era of king Cyrus, for many Jewish authors in the Second Temple period, the exile continued to define their reality as separated in some way from the covenant blessings of God.

With this rich palate of associations related to the idea of “wilderness,” any serious reader of the New Testament might want to pause to consider what particular connotations may be in mind when a gospel writer explicitly points out that Jesus was led into the wilderness. One might expect divine encounters and divine revelation in a narrative that involves a journey into the wilderness. (For an accessible and helpful look at the significance of the wilderness in the era of the New Testament, see Daniel Smith’s Into the World of the New Testament, especially chapter four).

To me, it seems that the notion of the wilderness in these passages makes a link between Jesus and Moses very strong. Such a connection is supported when we see other places in the gospels where Jesus and Moses are both shown to be a part of God’s working in the world (see John 1:17, for example). The full significance of Jesus can only be appreciated when his advent is seen as part of the long history of God’s working in the world. For the earliest Christians, themselves Jews, the significance of Moses and the Torah cannot be overestimated. Thus, in his being led into the wilderness, Jesus is shown to be a participant in God’s age old plan of redemption of God’s people. And this to me is a vital recognition: for the gospel writers Jesus is not just a radical new initiative on the part of God to redeem humanity. Jesus is part of God’s plans from of old. “Wilderness,” as a theme, is one way of showing that connection to the reader.

This way of reading the wilderness temptation of Jesus does not preclude the idea that Jesus models a personal practice of piety in which one is purified through time alone in the wilderness, even as one faces and strives to resist temptation. Christians have always identified personally with this narrative, finding in it encouragement and hope when in temptation. But it is important to also recall that a personal application of this passage to “my life” is not the whole story. Jesus’s going into the wilderness is a way of the gospel writer saying: “Hey, pay attention. This story I am recounting is not only about a unique individual overcoming temptation; what follows will be rich with divine revelation.” Just as God was revealed in the wilderness in the past, God is being revealed in the gospel in the life of Jesus, albeit in a new way. The gospel writers are inviting us to make the connection that this story (the story of Jesus) is part of that story (the story of God and God’s people). New Testament historian N. T. Wright puts it this way: “Jesus is acting out the great drama of Israel’s exodus from Egypt, Israel’s journey through the wilderness into the promised land” (Mark for Everyone, p. 6).

When I think about this passage, yes it can lead me to think about my own experience of wilderness, my own experience of exile. I can take comfort in knowing that Jesus was in the wilderness as well, and that I am not alone in whatever physical or spiritual wilderness I find myself. Those are good things to consider. But I can also consider the larger idea that the story of Jesus is a part of the ancient story of God’s redemptive work in the world.

The prophet Isaiah’s words are thus a very apt reminder of the rich tapestry of wilderness themes throughout scripture: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord” (Isaiah 40:3). So whether I find myself in a real or metaphorical wilderness, such a place is a fitting one in which to prepare the way of the Lord.

"Holy Envy" at Lent

Being raised in a Christian tradition that did not follow the liturgical calendar (well, we had Christmas and Easter; plus, for the really devout, Good Friday), I’ve always felt like something of an outsider when it comes to the season of Lent. I envy my sisters and brothers from other traditions for whom the ebb and flow of the church calendar is a way of deepening, reflecting on, and putting into tangible practice their devotion to God. In a recent On Being podcast Krista Tippet interviewed a rabbi and a Muslim chaplain about their interfaith work. One of them raised the notion of “holy envy:” being able to appreciate something about another tradition that is absent (or less present) in one’s own. Today I still wrestle with what Lent should mean or could mean for me, and the concept of “holy envy” provides me an interesting way of thinking about it this year. And yet, the practices that Lent invites and inspires are not unique to any one tradition but are essential practices of Christian faith: fasting, prayer, reflection, contemplation. But in this season they take on a new significance as we are invited to participate in them again and anew.

This week Carlow’s Center for Mercy Heritage provided the following suggestions as to how we might both fast and feast during the Lenten season.

Fast from:	Feast On:
judging others, emphasis on differences, the darkness, thoughts of illness, words that pollute us, withholding anger, idle gossip, pessimism, worry, guilt, complaining, stress, hostility, bitterness, selfishness, discouragement, apathy, suspicion, being so busy, talking,	the Christ dwelling in them our oneness the light of Christ the healing power of God words that purify sharing feelings spreading good news optimism trust freedom appreciation self-care letting go forgiveness compassion hope enthusiasm seeing the good quiet silence listening

Many of these are very attractive ideas to which I can easily assent. Who doesn’t want more optimism, hope, and compassion in their lives? But to actually fast from something like “stress” or “being so busy” and to feast on something like “quiet silence” or “self-care” seems a tall order. Even more so to feast on “our oneness” and “the light of Christ.” And yet, as conceptual and ethereal as these ideas are, faith tells us that they are also very real.

The brilliant author of the Fourth Gospel put it this way in the magnificent hymn which opens this work: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). By faith, Christians recognize this to be true today as well.

So in our present world in which there is both light and darkness, Lent seems an opportunity to adjust our gaze away from the darkness and again toward the light of Christ: “the true light which enlightens every person” (John 1:9). So “holy envy” or not, I’ll enter this Lenten season with my brothers and sisters to see how we may be enlightened together.