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Doctrine of GOD- via LAD Rosary









with friendly free gifted present from LOGOS Library by:
Feinberg, John S., 1946–
No one like Him : the doctrine of God / John S. Feinberg.
p. cm. — (The foundations of evangelical theology)
Includes bibliographical references and indexes.
ISBN 1–58134-275–6 (alk. paper)

  1. God. I. Title. II. Series.
    BT103 .F45 2001
    231—dc21 2001001912

In Memory of
My Wonderful Mother
Anne Priscilla Fraiman Feinberg
One of the First
To Teach Me about God

Foreword by Harold O. J. Brown
Introduction by General Editor
List of Abbreviations

What Sort of Reality is God/Does God Have?
God as Mental Projection
God as Being-Itself
God as a Being
God Without or Beyond Being
What Role(s) Does God Play in Our Universe?
Biblical Images, Motifs, and Metaphors for God
The Transcendence and Immanence of God
Several Models of Christian Theism
Three Understandings of the Metaphysics of Christian Theology
How Should We Understand Language about God?
What Is Modernity?
Human Consciousness (“The Subjective Turn”)
Knowledge, Truth, Objectivity, and Theory of Meaning
Human Freedom and Individuality
The Goodness of Human Nature
Science and Progress
What Is Postmodernity?
Postmodern Epistemology
Naturalism, But …
Human Freedom in Community
The Goodness of Human Nature!?
Science and Progress
God in Contemporary Thought
Contemporary Theologies in the Modern Mindset
Contemporary Theologies in the Postmodern Mindset
Backgrounds of Process Theology
Developments in Science
Attack on Classical Theism
Philosophical Background
Theological/Religious Climate of the Times
Major Concepts in Process Thought
Key Definitions
Central Concepts
Assessment of Process Theology
Contributions of Process Theology
Problems with Process Theology

Introduction to Theistic Proofs
The Ontological Argument
Anselm I
Anselm II
The Cosmological Argument
Causal Arguments
Contingency Arguments
Swinburne’s Inductive Argument
Teleological Arguments
William Paley: The Watch and the Watchmaker
Moral Arguments
C. S. Lewis’s Moral Argument
General Value of Theistic Arguments
The Reality of God
God Is Real
God Is a Being
God as a Perfect, Necessary, and Infinite Being
A Perfect Being
A Necessary Being
An Infinite Being
God as Spirit
Implications of God as Spirit
God as Person/Personal
Classifying the Divine Attributes
Non-Moral Attributes
Immensity and Omnipresence
Biblical Data on Omnipotence
Defining Omnipotence
Testing the Definition
The Bible and Divine Omniscience
Defining Divine Omniscience
The Bible and Divine Eternity
Historical Interlude
Arguments for Timeless Eternity
Timelessness a Logical Derivation from Other Doctrines
Immutability Necessitates Timeless Eternity
Nature of Time Necessitates a Timeless God
Infinity and God as Everlasting
Creation and a Sempiternal God
Timelessness and Divine Freedom
Temporal Duration Inadequate for the Ground of All Being
Analogy of God as Spaceless
Temporal God Leads to Process Theism
Arguments Against Timeless Eternity
Timelessness and God as a Person
Divine Eternity and Divine Action
Divine Eternity and Divine Simplicity
Divine Eternity and Divine Immutability
Biblical Portrait of God Sanctions Sempiternity
Divine Eternity and Simultaneity with Events in Time
Divine Omniscience and Timeless Eternity
Atemporal God or a Temporal God?
Why a Temporal God?
Temporalism and Process Theology
The Bible and the Doctrine of the Trinity
There Is Only One God
Evidences of Plurality in the Godhead
History and the Doctrine of the Trinity
Dynamic and Modalistic Monarchianism
Councils of Nicea and Constantinople
Clarification and Defense of Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed
Filioque Controversy
Formulation of the Doctrine of the Trinity
Logic and the Doctrine of the Trinity

Is There a Divine Decree? Positions Described
Classical Theism
Process Theism
Mediating Positions
Scripture and the Decree
Is There a Divine Decree?
What Is the Nature of God’s Decree?
The Decree and Foreknowledge
Further Theological Formulation of the Doctrine of God’s Decree
The Order of the Decrees
Various Theories of Origins
Dualistic Theories
Emanation Theories
Naturalistic Evolutionary Theories
Theistic Evolution
Creation Theories
Biblical Teaching on Creation
Creation Ex Nihilo
Other OT Themes
NT Themes
Genesis 1–2 and the Days of Creation
Creation and Ancient Near Eastern Literature
Structure of the Accounts
Theological Themes
Literary Genre of Genesis 1 and 2
The Days of Creation and the Age of the Universe, Earth, and Mankind
Naturalistic Evolutionary Theories
Day-Age Theories
Twenty-four-hour-day Theories
Literary Framework Theory
Assessment and Evaluation
Basic Definitions
Other Definitions
Models of Providence
General Sovereignty vs. Specific Sovereignty
A Case for General Sovereignty Theologies
Biblical/Theological Arguments for General Sovereignty
Philosophical Arguments for General Sovereignty
Biblical/Theological Arguments for Compatibilistic Specific Sovereignty
The Basic Argument
Objections to My Handling of Eph 1:11, and My Responses
Other Objections
Philosophical Considerations
Controlling Events, But Not Actions
What Kind of Determinism?
Choosing an Action
Are Reasons Causes?
The Agent Could Have Done Otherwise
Libertarian Freedom and the Ontological Argument
Other Indeterminist Objections
Clarifying the Problem
Determinist Responses to the Freedom/ Foreknowledge Problem
Indeterminist Responses to the Freedom/ Foreknowledge Problem
The Boethian Resolution
Simple Foreknowledge
Middle Knowledge
The Ockhamist Resolution
Present Knowledge
Introducing the Problem
Strategy of Defenses and Theodicies
Two Modified Rationalist Defenses
The Free Will Defense
Integrity of Humans Defense

General Index


John Feinberg’s No One Like Him is a magisterial work, one that truly deserves to be called a magnum opus. Formidable in size, it reveals its author as one of the only—perhaps the only—modern scholar whose work, like that of Carl F. H. Henry, can compare in size, detail, comprehensiveness, and intellectual acuity with the accomplishments of the late Karl Barth, who in turn is perhaps the only contemporary theologian whose work rivals that of the old masters—of Luther and Calvin—in scope. However, there is a serious difference between Henry and Feinberg on the one hand and Karl Barth on the other hand: Henry and Feinberg are firmly and deliberately in the tradition of what the late Francis A. Schaeffer called “historic Protestantism”; Barth, despite his genuine conservatism and his orthodoxy on many points, really is not. Karl Barth generated his theology in an atmosphere dominated by late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century liberalism. Henry and Feinberg work in an age when Protestant liberalism has been deemed passé, superseded by all manner of inventive theologies, and when evangelical theology itself sometimes stands on shaky legs on a slippery slope, willing to compromise with modernity and even with postmodernism as much as possible without falling into the abyss of what Georges Florovsky called “pious atheism,” which is increasingly characteristic of modern and postmodern Protestantism.
Henry and Feinberg address the fundamental question of God and the world, time and eternity, incarnation and atonement, sin and salvation, on the basis of a sure and confident trust in the Holy Scriptures as God’s inerrant and infallible Word, while for the Swiss master, the Bible is only the witness to God’s revelation, the authoritative and essential witness, to be sure, but nevertheless a witness to the Word, not the Word itself. There is a difference between Henry’s magisterial work (God, Revelation and Authority) and that of Feinberg in that Henry wrote in a time when evangelicalism was just emerging from the fundamentalist controversies, whereas Feinberg writes a generation later, when the players on the theological field have changed and to some extent the rules have changed; but the goal of the evangelical theologian is nevertheless to speak the truth—in love, be it understood—but plainly and clearly to speak the truth.
The fact that he rivals both Karl Barth and Carl F. H. Henry in completeness and erudition, while agreeing with the latter in his fidelity to Scripture as being divine revelation, not merely testifying to it, makes John Feinberg’s work a reliable guide for the inquiring Christian reader to a degree that is not always the case with the author of the ponderous Kirchliche Dogmatik.
Feinberg’s work is close to half as large as John Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion, but unlike the great Reformer’s work, which covers the whole scope of Christian doctrine, John Feinberg limits himself to what is called special theology, i.e., the doctrine of God. Readers who find Calvin formidable and therefore might be put off by this comparison or by the sheer bulk of Feinberg’s work should note that it is not at all necessary to read it from cover to cover to derive great benefit from it. Far from being merely another university or post-graduate level course in the doctrine of God, it is really a guide to several centuries of Christian thought. Consequently, it is able to serve as an immensely useful handbook providing accurate and readable information about scores of thinkers as diverse as the neo-Platonist Plotinus and the postmodernist feminist Nancey Murphy.
Feinberg offers a succinct and balanced treatment of speculative and esoteric approaches to understanding divine reality, from liberal Christian to modern pagan, and combines with it an insight into and critique of the efforts of contemporary thinkers within the evangelical tradition or close to it. He offers a thorough and nuanced discussion of specific points of controversy among orthodox Protestant Christians, such as whether God lives in timeless eternity or endless time. His treatment of God’s eternity as well as of predestination, foreknowledge, and human freedom is fascinating, although—precisely because these are and remain questiones disputatae—his recommendations for their solution will not find universal agreement among all of his fellow evangelicals. Because of the massiveness and comprehensiveness of this work, it is sure to draw friendly as well as unfriendly fire from various quarters, but like that of Henry, it will doubtless emerge relatively unscarred.
If the dogma of materialistic, naturalistic evolution, of chance and necessity as the origin of all that is, as the late Nobel prizewinner Jacques Monod and scores of lesser authorities would have it, cannot be challenged, then Feinberg’s work is irretrievably superfluous. In fact, however, it is not merely Christian theologians but scientists and scholars from other fields who are drawing increasing attention to the flaws in evolutionary dogma. To deal with the doctrine of God requires one to deal with the doctrine of his works, and in particular with creation, and here John Feinberg makes a distinct contribution to the discussion. His treatment of the various Christian efforts to relate the creation account in Genesis to the many secular theories that question or deny intelligent design and divine purpose is thorough and balanced. When he proceeds from criticism of errors to an attempt to present the truth, reasoning primarily on the basis of the scriptural witness and hermeneutical considerations, he reaches a conclusion that will be appreciated by advocates of a six twenty-four-hour day creation but which will not seem compelling to all upholders of biblical inerrancy.
The doctrines of creation and of the other acts of God, important as they are, are not Feinberg’s primary interest in this volume. Instead, it is the doctrine of the nature and attributes of the infinite-personal God. Here we note a detailed interaction with alternatives to classical orthodoxy from within the Christian community, such as pantheism and process theology, and sometimes even from fellow evangelicals, such as the concept of the openness of God. With respect to the Trinity and the incarnation, Feinberg interacts extensively with interpretations and explanations offered by early church fathers, medieval scholastics, Reformation thinkers, and contemporary figures of various shades. Unwilling to leave the doctrines of the Trinity and of the incarnation entirely in the realm of transcendent mystery as many do, he seeks to go beyond traditional Nicene and Chalcedonian dogma and to make the mysteries as accessible to reverent analysis as can be done.
It is impossible in a few paragraphs or even in dozens of pages, to do justice to John Feinberg’s work, but it is evident that even readers unprepared to follow each of his arguments and fully to endorse each of his conclusions must stand in admiration of his achievement. It is not risky to predict that his No One Like Him will come to be a milestone in evangelical theology.

Harold O. J. Brown



Why another series of works on evangelical systematic theology? This is an especially appropriate question in light of the fact that evangelicals are fully committed to an inspired and inerrant Bible as their final authority for faith and practice. But since neither God nor the Bible change, why is there a need to redo evangelical systematic theology?
Systematic theology is not divine revelation. Theologizing of any sort is a human conceptual enterprise. Thinking that it is equal to biblical revelation misunderstands the nature of both Scripture and theology! Insofar as our theology contains propositions that accurately reflect Scripture or match the world and are consistent with the Bible (in cases where the propositions do not come per se from Scripture), our theology is biblically based and correct. But even if all the propositions of a systematic theology are true, that theology would still not be equivalent to biblical revelation! It is still a human conceptualization of God and his relation to the world.
Although this may disturb some who see theology as nothing more than doing careful exegesis over a series of passages, and others who see it as nothing more than biblical theology, those methods of doing theology do not somehow produce a theology that is equivalent to biblical revelation either. Exegesis is a human conceptual enterprise, and so is biblical theology. All the theological disciplines involve human intellectual participation. But human intellect is finite, and hence there is always room for revision of systematic theology as knowledge increases. Though God and his Word do not change, human understanding of his revelation can grow, and our theologies should be reworked to reflect those advances in understanding.
Another reason for evangelicals to rework their theology is the nature of systematic theology as opposed to other theological disciplines. For example, whereas the task of biblical theology is more to describe biblical teaching on whatever topics Scripture addresses, systematics should make a special point to relate its conclusions to the issues of one’s day. This does not mean that the systematician ignores the topics biblical writers address. Nor does it mean that theologians should warp Scripture to address issues it never intended to address. Rather, it suggests that in addition to expounding what biblical writers teach, the theologian should attempt to take those biblical teachings (along with the biblical mindset) and apply them to issues that are especially confronting the church in the theologian’s own day. For example, 150 years ago, an evangelical theologian doing work on the doctrine of man would likely have discussed issues such as the creation of man and the constituent parts of man’s being. Such a theology might even have included a discussion about human institutions such as marriage, noting in general the respective roles of husbands and wives in marriage. However, it is dubious that there would have been any lengthy discussion with various viewpoints about the respective roles of men and women in marriage, in society, and in the church. But at our point in history and in light of the feminist movement and the issues it has raised even among many conservative Christians, it would be foolish to write a theology of man (or, should we say, a “theology of humanity”) without a thorough discussion of the issue of the roles of men and women in society, the home, and the church.
Because systematic theology attempts to address itself not only to the timeless issues presented in Scripture but also to the current issues of one’s day and culture, each theology will to some extent need to be redone in each generation. Biblical truth does not change from generation to generation, but the issues that confront the church do. A theology that was adequate for a different era and different culture may simply not speak to key issues in a given culture at a given time. Hence, in this series we are reworking evangelical systematic theology, though we do so with the understanding that in future generations there will be room for a revision of theology again.
How, then, do the contributors to this series understand the nature of systematic theology? Systematic theology as done from an evangelical Christian perspective involves study of the person, works, and relationships of God. As evangelicals committed to the full inspiration, inerrancy, and final authority of Scripture, we demand that whatever appears in a systematic theology correspond to the way things are and must not contradict any claim taught in Scripture. Holy Writ is the touchstone of our theology, but we do not limit the source material for systematics to Scripture alone. Hence, whatever information from history, science, philosophy, and the like is relevant to our understanding of God and his relation to our world is fair game for systematics. Depending on the specific interests and expertise of the contributors to this series, their respective volumes will reflect interaction with one or more of these disciplines.
What is the rationale for appealing to other sources than Scripture and other disciplines than the biblical ones? Since God created the universe, there is revelation of God not only in Scripture but in the created order as well. There are many disciplines that study our world, just as does theology. But since the world studied by the non-theological disciplines is the world created by God, any data and conclusions in the so-called secular disciplines that accurately reflect the real world are also relevant to our understanding of the God who made that world. Hence, in a general sense, since all of creation is God’s work, nothing is outside the realm of theology. The so-called secular disciplines need to be thought of in a theological context, because they are reflecting on the universe God created, just as is the theologian. And, of course, there are many claims in the non-theological disciplines that are generally accepted as true (although this does not mean that every claim in non-theological disciplines is true, or that we are in a position with respect to every proposition to know whether it is true or false). Since this is so, and since all disciplines are in one way or another reflecting on our universe, a universe made by God, any true statement in any discipline should in some way be informative for our understanding of God and his relation to our world. Hence, we have felt it appropriate to incorporate data from outside the Bible in our theological formulations.
As to the specific design of this series, our intention is to address all areas of evangelical theology with a special emphasis on key issues in each area. While other series may be more like a history of doctrine, this series purposes to incorporate insights from Scripture, historical theology, philosophy, etc., in order to produce an up-to-date work in systematic theology. Though all contributors to the series are thoroughly evangelical in their theology, embracing the historical orthodox doctrines of the church, the series as a whole is not meant to be slanted in the direction of one form of evangelical theology. Nonetheless, most of the writers come from a Reformed perspective. Alternate evangelical and non-evangelical options, however, are discussed.
As to style and intended audience, this series is meant to rest on the very best of scholarship while at the same time being understandable to the beginner in theology as well as to the academic theologian. With that in mind, contributors are writing in a clear style, taking care to define whatever technical terms they use.
Finally, we believe that systematic theology is not just for the understanding. It must apply to life, and it must be lived. As Paul wrote to Timothy, God has given divine revelation for many purposes, including ones that necessitate doing theology, but the ultimate reason for giving revelation and for theologians doing theology is that the people of God may be fitted for every good work (2 Tim 3:16–17). In light of the need for theology to connect to life, each of the contributors not only formulates doctrines but also explains how those doctrines practically apply to everyday living.
It is our sincerest hope that the work we have done in this series will first glorify and please God, and, secondly, instruct and edify the people of God. May God be pleased to use this series to those ends, and may he richly bless you as you read the fruits of our labors.

John S. Feinberg
General Editor


I must have been crazy to think that I could write a book on the doctrine of God. Still, like the moth drawn to a flame, I keep coming back to this topic. In one way or another, it has been the concern of much of my adult intellectual thought and publications. Of course, the subject is more than worthy of our attention, because nothing could be more important than coming to understand God better and hence worship him more.
But, even more so in the contemporary milieu, this topic has taken on enormously significant proportions. The movements in culture in general and theology in particular during the past century have been phenomenal. The advent and growing entrenchment of the postmodern mindset, not only in our universities but in culture more broadly, have had dramatic implications for our very understanding of who and what God is. Theologians and non-theologians alike are clamoring for a God who is engaged in our lives and responsive to our needs. The remote God of classical Christianity seems irrelevant to our contemporaries. Even Christians broadly in the evangelical community sense a need to replace or at least significantly alter the concept of the classical God.
Originally, I had planned a somewhat standard volume on the doctrine of God, but as I read and reflected on what is happening to God in contemporary thought, I saw that something else was needed. Most of the usual topics for a doctrine of God will be covered, but the whole discussion must now be framed in light of the issues of our times. In short, the question confronting the evangelical theologian is what to do about the classical conception of God that has been handed down through centuries of church history. Process theologians and openness of God advocates encourage us to abandon this God and replace him with their versions of a more responsive God. While I find their complaints about the traditional God very thought provoking, I cannot agree with them that their replacement “Gods” are the answer or that they more accurately reflect biblical revelation about God. Rather than totally abandoning the traditional concept of God, a substantial overhaul and reconstruction seems more appropriate. In the pages of this book you will see the results of such modifications.
One of the reasons for writing a volume exclusively on the doctrine of God is that it allows one to give more coverage of the doctrine than if one were writing a standard systematic theology. Even so, there are always decisions to make about what to cover and what to omit. Once I decided to address directly the contemporary situation in discussions about God, certain decisions were required. One of the early casualties was a section on angels, Satan, and demons as an extension of the doctrine of creation. Those doctrines will now be covered in another volume in this series along with the doctrine of man. Then, I had originally planned to include a chapter on the names of God, a most worthy topic; but as I saw how long the manuscript was becoming, I had to make another decision. Over at least the last half century there haven’t been many developments with respect to understanding of the divine names, so that seemed a likely candidate for exclusion. Those interested in pursuing that topic can easily do so in various standard evangelical theologies. And, then, as I saw again the need to address in detail the issues surrounding the doctrine of providence, it became evident that I could not also cover every other divine action. Hence, though miraculous intervention in our world is certainly something God can and does do from time to time, I have not addressed that topic as such. In many ways, I feel it is better served in a more general work on apologetics.
In spite of these omissions, I soon realized that what I was doing in this book is not frequently done. There have been many books written solely on divine providence, or on creation, or on the divine attributes. There have not been many written which attempt to cover the whole doctrine of God in one single volume. Over the many years that it has taken to research and write this book, I have periodically thought about how crazy it is to try to do all of this in one book. And yet, by the goodness and grace of God, this work has been completed and it has given me a chance to look holistically at God. It is my hope and prayer that readers will find the structure and strategy of the book helpful and stimulating, regardless of whether they agree with my conclusions.
In doing a project of this sort, the help of others has been invaluable, and they should be acknowledged. First, various colleagues have read and commented on chapters of this book at one stage or another. These include Harold O. J. Brown, Paul Feinberg, Wayne Grudem, and Bruce Ware. Of special significance, however, has been the careful reading and detailed commenting on specific chapters of the manuscript by Kevin Vanhoozer, Willem VanGemeren, and Harold Netland. In particular, Harold Netland has read most of this manuscript in one stage of production or another. Because of suggestions and interaction especially by Harold, Kevin, and Willem, this work has greatly benefited. Whatever errors still remain are attributable to me.
There have also been countless student assistants over the years who have helped me by collecting bibliography for this project or by proofreading various portions of the manuscript. In several cases, these brothers have long since graduated and are themselves engaged in teaching and writing at various seminaries. Of specific note are Steve Wellum, Gregg Allison, and Adam Co. Other assistants have also helped, but these three were especially significant.
Then, a word of appreciation is in order for the board and administration of Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. Their gracious granting of sabbaticals during which I wrote most of this book was invaluable. Without their help this book could not have been written. Next, I must also express my gratitude to Crossway Books. Without their original approval of this series, let alone this volume, and their help and encouragement along the way, this work would not have been done. Of special note is the extraordinary competence and care in editing by Bill Deckard. Any academician would be eager to have such an editor. In addition, Crossway’s gracious patience over the years as they have waited for this volume has been greatly appreciated. Finally, a word of thanks to my wife and children for their support and encouragement. There were many times when they gave up time with me so that I could work on this project, and for their sacrifice I am deeply grateful.
It is my hope and prayer that the pages that follow will not only inform but also stimulate you to love, worship, and serve our great God even more! I trust as well that they will help us all recapture a sense of the wonder and grandeur of God. Most of all, I pray that what I have written will be pleasing to God himself and will bring him glory. He is most deserving of all our worship and praise, for there is no one like him!

John S. Feinberg
July 2000


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In Isaiah 46 Israel’s God compares himself to the gods of the Babylonians. They are mere idols, but not so the true and living God of Israel. In fact, no nation has a God like Israel’s. In verse 9 God says, “I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is no one like Me.” No one like the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob! No one like the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!
But if there is no one like this God, that still does not tell us what he is like.
Although it might not seem difficult to describe the God of the Bible, in our day there are various understandings of him. For many centuries of church history the predominant portrait of God has been the one painted by Augustine, Anselm, and Aquinas. In our time, many theologians are saying that this concept of God is both outmoded and unbiblical. The absolutely immutable, impassible, self-sufficient, sovereign, and omniscient God of the classical Christian tradition, we are told, is too domineering, too austere, and too remote to be at all religiously adequate. This God monopolizes all the power, and refuses to share it with anyone. If his human creatures don’t like this, that is their problem.
Process theologians claim that this classical God is too infected with ancient Greek philosophy; the God of Anselm and Aquinas is not the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Instead of the classical God, process thinkers propose a more relational and vulnerable God. He is a God who suffers with us and changes as we change. He increases in knowledge as he continually interacts with us and our world. The process God of Whitehead, Hartshorne, and Cobb is no divine monarch who rules with a rod of iron. Rather, he shares his power with his creatures. He won’t force his creatures to do what he wants, but instead lovingly tries to persuade them to do what he deems best. Of course, they can refuse, and if they do, this God won’t violate their freedom.
Process theologians don’t claim to be evangelicals, but they think their depiction of God is more attuned to Scripture than that of classical Christian theism. Advocates of what is known as the open view of God agree that the biblical God is much kinder and gentler than the God of classical theism. However, proponents of the open view believe that process thinkers have strayed too far from biblical revelation. The open view of God purports to offer a mediating position between the classical and process views. Espousers of the open view believe they have captured the best insights from the classical and process traditions while formulating their concept of God in a way that more accurately reflects biblical revelation.
There is certainly much to fault in both the classical and process concepts of God. This does not mean, however, that the open view should be accepted as the best alternative. I agree that we need a mediating position between classical and process views of God, but the open view isn’t that position. Hence, in this book I come not to bury God, but to reconstruct him—at least to refashion the idea of God from an evangelical perspective. I don’t delude myself into thinking that all evangelicals will adopt my reconstruction. But, I intend to offer an account of God which is sensitive to process and open view concerns without altogether abandoning the best insights of the classical conception. And I intend to ground that conception in Scripture.
So, what does my model of God look like? Process and open view thinkers seem to believe that a commitment to the classical God’s non-moral attributes (absolute immutability, impassibility, eternity, simplicity, omnipotence, etc.) requires a monarchical God who is distant from, unrelated to, and unconcerned about the world he made, and yet still exercises absolute control over everything that happens in it. Correspondingly, if one holds to God as a sovereign king, it is deemed inevitable that one will adopt the classical package of divine attributes.
Despite such assumptions, there is no entailment between the two. The God I shall describe is indeed a king, but he is the king who cares! I believe that process and open view critiques of the classical God are most persuasive in relation to the classical attributes, but my nuancing of those attributes even differs from their revisions. When it comes to how God relates to and rules over our world, in my judgment process and open view conceptions are least persuasive. The God I present is absolutely sovereign, but he is no tyrant, nor is he the remote and unrelated God of classical theism. He is instead the king who cares!
Indeed, there is no one like God, the king who cares. But though there is no one like him, there is no lack of competitors in our day, even as there were many false gods during biblical times. In order to understand more accurately the distinctness of the Christian God, we must place him alongside the pantheon of pretenders. Hence, the first section of this book is devoted to describing the various models and conceptions of God in the intellectual and spiritual milieu of our day. That will illustrate the issues that are on the minds of our contemporaries as they think about God, and it will help us to see why non-evangelicals and many evangelicals are clamoring for a revisioning of God. Because the final two parts of the book will be devoted to articulating a specifically Christian conception of God, the first section will emphasize heavily non-Christian and non-evangelical notions of God. This doesn’t mean nothing will be said relevant to the evangelical Christian concept, but only that we must first understand the whole range of views of God in contemporary thought and religion in order best to see that there truly is no one like the biblical God!
In the second section of the book, the discussion will turn directly to the Christian God. Here the focus will be the being and nature of God. In this portion of the book, I shall present my nuancing of the divine attributes. There will be some agreement with process and open view understandings of those attributes, but there will be significant differences as well.
After we have seen who and what the Christian God is, the third section of the book will turn to what God does—his acts. There are many things that God does which are covered in other volumes of this series. For example, God is in the business of saving humans from their lost and hopeless condition of sin, but his actions in redeeming lost humanity are covered in the volume on the cross and salvation. God has also revealed himself in many ways, including Scripture, but the doctrines of revelation, inspiration, and inerrancy are treated in the volume on Scripture. The focus in this volume will be on God’s acts of creation, his decree, and his providential control over our universe. It is on the last two matters that the greatest difference between my views and those of the open view will become apparent. The God I present relates to and cares about his creatures, but he is unquestionably king. He not only has sovereign power, but he uses it in our world—but not so as to eliminate human freedom and dignity. Impossible, you think, to wed divine control with human freedom? Perhaps so for some rigidly deterministic models of God, but not so on the soft deterministic model I shall offer.
Needless to say, the issues under consideration in this volume are both controversial and extremely important for Christian doctrine and practice. Though my intent is to offer a constructive piece of Christian theology, because of the controversy surrounding so much of the doctrine of God in our day, of necessity we cannot entirely escape polemics. My goal, however, is to engage in those debates for the sake of clarifying a biblically accurate and religiously adequate evangelical notion of God. This is no easy task, but we dare not allow the difficulty of the issues to deter us, for too much is at stake for Christian thought and life.

Feinberg, J. S. (2001). No One Like Him: The Doctrine of God (S. i–33). Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books.

Science and Theology

Photograph of Memorial Hall (front facade), La...

Photograph of Memorial Hall (front facade), Lawrenceville School, Lawrenceville, New Jersey, USA. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Tomb Diorama, das Grab ist leer

Princeton Theological Seminary










THE REV. GEERHARDUS VOS, Ph.D., D.D., was elected Professor of Biblical Theology in Princeton Theological Seminary at the spring meeting of the Board of Directors, 1893, and assumed the duties of the chair provisionally from September, 1893. His formal induction into the chair took place on Tuesday, May 8, 1894, at 12 o’clock, in the First Presbyterian Church of Princeton. The order of exercises on this occasion was as follows:



ADMINISTRATION OF THE PLEDGE TO THE NEW PROFESSOR, by the Rev. WILLIAM C. CATTELL, D.D., LL.D., First Vice-President of the Board of Directors.

THE CHARGE, by the Rev. ABRAHAM GOSMAN, D.D., Pastor of the Church at Lawrenceville, N. J.




BENEDICTION, by the Rev. Dr. JAMES MCCOSH, ex-President of the College of New Jersey.

The Charge and Inaugural Address are here published by order of the Board of Directors.




The Theology taught in this institution has, as we believe, been Biblical from the beginning of its history, in the sense not only that its teachings have been in accordance with the Bible, but that they have been drawn from the Bible as their ultimate source. It may be fairly claimed that it has always sought to honor the infallible Word of God, and has recognized the truth that from its teachings, when once clearly ascertained, there is no appeal.
Neither is it true that Biblical Theology even in its technical sense, i. e., as that branch of theological science which regards and treats the doctrinal and ethical contents of the Bible in their historical surroundings and development, is new in the curriculum of study prescribed here. We have had illustrious teachers here in this very line. Those of us who were permitted to sit at the feet of that splendid scholar and teacher, Dr. Joseph Addison Alexander, will readily recall how he opened to us the contents of the books of the Old Testament, in their historical connections and surroundings. We were like those who feel the quickening breath of the morning, and see the eastern horizon flashing with the light of the coming day. We walked for a time along the old paths, but as in a new world which we were to explore, and in which the richest mines should repay our search. Nor can those who fell under the influence of that other great teacher, Dr. Caspar Wistar Hodge, whom God gave to us and has so recently taken away, and whose successor, in some sense, so far as Biblical Theology is concerned, you are, fail to recognize how he led you along the pathway you are still seeking to tread, and called to your more leisurely notice the prospects and the outlooks which greeted you at every step, as he opened to you the Scriptures.
It is not, therefore, a new branch of Biblical science which you are called to teach. And yet it is comparatively new, in the definiteness of the field assigned it, in the closely limited relations it sustains to the other branches of Biblical science, in the history of its growth and progress, in the methods it pursues, in the fruits which have been already gathered, and in the well-grounded hopes of richer fruits in the future. It is a field which will amply repay the most assiduous culture, and upon which a man may enter with glowing hopes, and, with the blessing of God, come back from his toil bringing his sheaves with him.
Biblical Theology stands in close relations both to Exegetical and Systematic Theology, and yet has its own well-defined bounds. It presupposes Exegetical Theology; it furnishes the material for Systematic Theology. If Systematic Theology is, as we may conceive it to be, the finished building, harmonious in its proportions, symmetrical and beautiful; then Exegetical Theology may be regarded as the quarry from which the material is taken; and Biblical Theology, as putting the granite blocks into form, not polished and graven, but shaped and fitted for the place they are to fill, as the structure grows in its vastness and beauty. It seeks the saving facts and truths as they lie in the Word, and are embedded, and to some extent expressed, in the history of the people of God. God’s methods are always historical and genetic, and it conforms to His methods. It views these words and facts in their historical relations and their progressive development. It aims not merely to arrive at the ideas and facts as they appear in particular authors and in the books justly ascribed to them, and as they may be modified in their form by time, culture, influences friendly or hostile; but to set forth these facts and truths thus ascertained in their relation to the other books in which they may appear in clearer light,—to trace their progress and unfolding from the germ to the ripened fruit. As the stream of sacred history runs parallel with that of revelation, it borders closely upon Historical Theology. But the two conceptions are distinct.
Biblical Theology serves also important purposes in its evidential bearings and force. It throws light upon passages which may have appeared doubtful to mere exegetical and critical study, but viewed in the light of the results which Biblical Theology has attained, and as lying directly along the line of the gradual unfolding of the truth, it becomes apparent at once that they belong to the divine Word. They fall fitly into the time and place in which they occur; they are indispensable to the full revelation of the truth. To leave them out would make a break in the process which could not be remedied. In the line of the Messianic teaching, e. g., which runs through the Old Testament Scriptures, there are passages which fair and honest criticism even leaves in doubt, if not as to their genuineness, yet as to their interpretation, but which, seen in the light of the final results of Biblical Theology, fall into their true place in the historical development of the Messianic promise and are found to be essential to its completeness. We not only see at once that they constitute a part of the records of Revelation, but know their import and interpretation. This evidential bearing of his work ought to have great weight with the teacher of Biblical Theology. For while a strictly scientific definition of Biblical Theology may exclude all exegetical investigation and relegate it entirely to its own branch, practically the two branches run into one another. The student of Biblical Theology must know whether the results of exegesis are such as to justify him in accepting them. He must test the ground upon which he stands. He cannot take with any satisfaction or certainty the books of the Bible as trustworthy or authoritative without an investigation of his own. And since the saving facts and truths of revelation are interwoven with the sacred history, well-nigh inseparable from it, he must know that the records of this history are absolutely genuine and accurate. While they are diversified in form, according to their human authors and surroundings, they bear their divine stamp. For these human authors were men chosen by God, brought into the world, placed in their peculiar conditions, endowed with their peculiar qualifications, mental and spiritual, trained by special experiences, providential and gracious, quickened and guided in their writings so that the whole result should be as God would have it—the inspired Word of God. In ascertaining, or rather in verifying this result, he may well use the fruits and issues of his own special science, in solving the doubts which criticism has left or created. Nor would this be reasoning in a circle, as if he first reached the result by the aid of doubtful passages and his interpretation of them, and then used this result as confirming their absolute correctness or inerrancy and the interpretation he has given them. For the result here, as with every essential doctrine of the Sacred Scripture, does not depend upon specific passages merely, but upon the general drift and teaching of the Word of God.
But assuming now, that Biblical Theology deals with the inspired and infallible records of Revelation as exegetically ascertained, seeks to reproduce the doctrinal and ethical contents of the Bible in their historical relations, aims to ascertain what are the teachings of the inspired Word in their diversified forms and historical order and in their continuous development, how must we study its sources? It is often said, that we must come to the Bible as we come to other books claiming our attention; that if God has revealed Himself and revealed His will in saving words, using human agents to communicate them, these words must be interpreted according to the laws which govern all human languages; that we must apply the same principles of construction here as elsewhere. This is all true, and must be insisted upon, if we would be fair and honest in our investigation. There is no other method by which we can reach valid and satisfactory results. But if, when it is said that we must come to the study of the Bible as we come to the study of other books, it is meant that we are to forget that the Bible has its life and history; what it has done for the individual, for society, for the State, for the progress of civilization; that all that is lovely and of good report has found its roots and life in this book; that it has in all ages been the fruitful source of good, and of good only,—if that is what is meant, then it is both unreasonable and absurd. It is absurd to suppose that we can, at will, divest ourselves of those influences which are entwined with every thread and fibre of our being, which are so intimately associated with our most sacred experience, and to which we owe largely the position we now occupy and the very power to make any intelligent investigation. And it is unreasonable, if it were not absurd. The Bible has its place and brings its own history. It carries upon its face and in its whole spirit its real nature. It points the student to what it has done, and what must therefore be its vital truth and force, as it submits itself to his investigation. No interest of truth or goodness can be secured by blotting out its history. No man will gain a truer knowledge of its contents by shutting out the light and heat which it gives. A man may investigate the sun, the laws of its motion, its peculiar structure, its relation to other suns and systems; but what would he know of the sun if he should disregard the fact that it has been pouring out with the utmost lavishness its flood of light and heat from the beginning, and is still pouring them out with undiminished fullness and splendor, or if he should insist upon beginning his investigation with a denial that it shines at all? Other bodies are not luminous, therefore the sun cannot be. Other books are not from God, therefore the Bible must be a human book, and we must deal with it as such. But the Bible comes to us as both human and divine. It claims recognition for what it has done, and demands investigation under these conditions. As the Apostle concentrates, condenses into one single word, “therefore,” his splendid exhibition of the Gospel, in his letter to the Romans, as it takes the sinner from his guilt and pollution up into fellowship with Christ in His purity and glory, all issuing from the eternal and electing purpose of God; and then with all his fervor and love presses the whole argument upon his readers, “I beseech you therefore”: so the Bible comes to us with its past history and work, as it has illumined the darkness, relieved the suffering, broken the bonds of the oppressed, lifted men into fellowship with Christ, enriched them with deathless hopes, and says, as it opens wide its doors to all honest search and scrutiny, “therefore” let your investigation be thorough, but with a full recognition of the facts and all that they imply.
This will in no way restrict your freedom. The Bible seeks no concealment. It rather demands investigation, and its friends have no reason to fear the issue. The word of God makes free, and requires freedom. Just as the believer, when he comes to Christ and takes His will as the law of his life, is under bonds to Christ and is made the Lord’s freeman, so the man who bows his reason, as he bows his will, to the authority of the divine word, is loosed from all other bonds. He is free to prosecute his researches in all legitimate methods. No human authority can restrict his liberty. And this institution has never sought and does not now seek to lessen the freedom of investigation. It welcomes light from every quarter, while it honors the Word and insists that there is no appeal from its decisions. Traditional interpretations are to be treated in all the new light which has been thrown upon them in the large advance of modern science. And Christian scholars must keep abreast with that advance. There is scarcely any science, material, philosophic, ethical, or political, which does not in some way contribute to the better understanding of the Word, and the whole wide field lies open to you to ascertain what the individual authors of the books of the Bible, all writing as they were moved by the Holy Ghost, and all writing under the influence of their personal characteristics and surroundings, moving freely in the history of the periods at which they lived, reveal to us of God and our relations to Him. You cannot reach the best results without taking freely the widest scope in your studies. Traditions are, of course, entitled to their legitimate weight. The fact that they have been long held does not necessarily imply, as it is sometimes apparently thought, that they are to be ignored or rejected. Human progress along the various lines it has produced is not destructive of the past. It conserves and garners with the utmost care all that it has gained, while it refuses to be limited or restrained by it. Traditional interpretations of the Word, if they are misleading or obscure, or hinder the progress of the truth, should be freely laid aside. There is no waste when mere obstructions are removed. But it should ever be remembered that it is a serious thing to break up cherished convictions, to distress believing souls with needless doubts and apprehensions, to wrest from them the forms of truth which to them are instinct with the truth itself, and give them nothing to put in their place which will stand the test of either science or experience. We must insist upon the distinction between the inspired Word, which is changeless and errorless, and the human interpretations of it, which are varied and may be wide of the truth. You will, doubtless, feel how grave and serious your line of study is, which brings you into the closest contact with the most sacred beliefs of the human heart and of the ages. They are things which must be treated with the greatest care. But we lay no restrictions upon you, but fidelity to the truth and to God. What we wish in your chair, and in every other chair in this Seminary, is just that you may find what God teaches, what He has revealed to us in His Word of Himself and of His will for our salvation. Give us this and we shall be satisfied.
The highest freedom we can conceive of is that which is found in the angels who do His commandments. There are no bonds in their service, no craven fears as they veil their faces and bow in awe before the splendors of His throne. This is the freedom for which we pray: “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” This freedom and reverence not only co-exist, but measure each other. The most profound reverence and the most perfect freedom are essential to the successful study of the Word. It is the Word of God, and therefore to be handled with the greatest reverence; it is the Word of God spoken by inspired men, in varied surroundings and with varying degrees of completeness, and therefore to be treated with entire freedom. And there is no attitude of the human spirit which so opens it to the pure light of truth, which so clears away the films which have clouded its vision, which brings it so near the very source of truth, as this reverential boldness, or this free and filial reverence. A man may be learned in the Scriptures and in all kindred studies; but if he is flippant, self-conceited, boastful and arrogant, we may be sure that he has no profound views of God, and is an unsafe guide to truth. It is the man who lies in the deepest humility and forgetfulness of self whose eye God opens and makes him a teacher of men.
You will need a broad and generous culture, a wide acquaintance with all kindred branches, to avail yourself of the light which may aid you in the solution of difficulties, or in setting forth the truth in its fullness. This is emphatically true now when so much is done to bring before us the actual life, or the vivid picture of the life of men, in the periods covered by the Bible,—the condition of men in their everyday life, their physical, mental, moral, and religious progress, their position with reference to the arts and civilization, the ties which bound them together, the walls which separated them; when, more particularly, the two great world powers with which the people of God came into the closest historical relations, are revealing to us, in their stone-libraries and records, their inner life, their policies and arts, their prowess in arms, their victories and defeats, the rise and fall of dynasties, their religious faith and worship, and the great racial movements which underlie them. All this gives an interesting and important line of study. It is a side line indeed, but it throws light upon the main line along which your studies must run.
You are here, my dear brother, primarily to aid in fitting young men for the ministry of Christ, but you are here also,—and I desire to impress it upon you now,—you are here also for the vindication of the truth, for the more complete and orderly unfolding of it, as it lies in the Word, and for the confirmation of the faith of God’s people. While recognizing fully that your regular work will tax your time and strength, and that we have no right to demand anything more, I still venture to urge upon you the claims of these wider interests. At the proper time give the Church the ripe fruit of your studies through the press. Use your class-room first, but use your pen also.
In behalf of the Directors of this Seminary I welcome you heartily to this chair, and pray that God may crown you with His richest blessing.





It is with no little hesitation that I enter upon the work to which you have called me and to-day more formally introduced me. In reaching the conclusion that it was my duty to accept the call with which you had honored me, I was keenly alive to the incongruity of my name being associated in the remotest manner with the names of those illustrious men through whom God has glorified Himself in this institution. Some of those at whose feet I used to sit while a student here, are fallen asleep; a smaller number remain until now. The memory of the former as well as the presence of the latter make me realize my weakness even more profoundly than the inherent difficulty of the duties I shall have to discharge. While, however, on the one hand, there is something in these associations that might well fill me with misgivings at this moment, I shall not endeavor to conceal that on the other hand they are to me a source of inspiration. In view of my own insufficiency I rejoice all the more in having behind and around me this cloud of witnesses. I am thoroughly convinced that in no other place or environment could the sacred influences of the past be brought to bear upon me with a purer and mightier impulse to strengthen and inspire me than here. The pledge to which I have just subscribed is itself a symbol of this continuity between the past and the future; and I feel that it will act upon me, not merely by outward restraint, but with an inwardly constraining power, being a privilege as well as an obligation.
Although not a new study, yet Biblical Theology is a new chair, in this Seminary; and this fact has determined the choice of the subject on which I purpose to address you. Under ordinary circumstances, the treatment of some special subject of investigation would have been more appropriate, and perhaps more interesting to you, than a discussion of general principles. But Biblical Theology being a recent arrival in the Seminary curriculum and having been entrusted to my special care and keeping, I consider it my duty to introduce to you this branch of theological science, and to describe, in general terms at least, its nature and the manner in which I hope to teach it.
This is all the more necessary because of the wide divergence of opinion in various quarters concerning the standing of this newest accession to the circle of sacred studies. Some have lauded her to the skies as the ideal of scientific theology, in such extravagant terms as to reflect seriously upon the character of her sisters of greater age and longer standing. Others look upon the new-comer with suspicion, or even openly dispute her right to a place in the theological family. We certainly owe it to her and to ourselves to form a well-grounded and intelligent judgment on this question. I hope that what I shall say will in some degree shed light on the points at issue, and enable you to judge impartially and in accordance with the facts of the case.
Every discussion of what is to be understood by Biblical Theology ought to proceed from a clear understanding of what Theology is in general. Etymology, in many cases a safer guide than a priori constructions, tells us that Theology is knowledge concerning God, and this primitive definition is fully supported by encyclopædic principles. Only when making Theology knowledge concerning God do we have the right to call it a separate science. Sciences are not formed at haphazard, but according to an objective principle of division. As in general science is bound by its object and must let itself be shaped by reality; so likewise the classification of sciences, the relation of the various members in the body of universal knowledge, has to follow the great lines by which God has mapped out the immense field of the universe. The title of a certain amount of knowledge to be called a separate science depends on its reference to such a separate and specific object as is marked off by these God-drawn lines of distinction. We speak of a science of Biology, because God has made the phenomena of life distinct from those of inorganic being. Now, from this point of view we must say that no science has a clearer title to separate existence than Theology. Between God as the Creator and all other things as created the distinction is absolute. There is not another such gulf within the universe. God, as distinct from the creature, is the only legitimate object of Theology.
It will be seen, however, on a moment’s reflection, that Theology is not merely distinguished from the other sciences by its object, but that it also sustains an altogether unique relation to this object, for which no strict analogy can be found elsewhere. In all the other sciences man is the one who of himself takes the first step in approaching the objective world, in subjecting it to his scrutiny, in compelling it to submit to his experiments—in a word, man is the one who proceeds actively to make nature reveal her facts and her laws. In Theology this relation between the subject and object is reversed. Here it is God who takes the first step to approach man for the purpose of disclosing His nature, nay, who creates man in order that He may have a finite mind able to receive the knowledge of His infinite perfections. In Theology the object, far from being passive, by the act of creation first posits the subject over against itself, and then as the living God proceeds to impart to this subject that to which of itself it would have no access. For “the things of God none knoweth, save the Spirit of God.” Strictly speaking, therefore, we should say that not God in and for Himself, but God in so far as He has revealed Himself, is the object of Theology.
Though applying to Theology in the abstract and under all circumstances, this unique character has been emphasized by the entrance of sin into the human race. In his sinful condition, while retaining some knowledge of God, man for all pure and adequate information in divine things is absolutely dependent on that new self-disclosure of God which we call supernatural revelation. By the new birth and the illumination of the mind darkened through sin, a new subject is created. By the objective self-manifestation of God as the Redeemer, a new order of things is called into being. And by the depositing of the truth concerning this new order of things in the Holy Scriptures, the human mind is enabled to obtain that new knowledge which is but the reflection in the regenerate consciousness of an objective world of divine acts and words.
This being so, it follows immediately that the beginning of all our Theology consists in the appropriation of that supernatural process by which God has made Himself the object of our knowledge. We are not left to our own choice here, as to where we shall begin our theological study. The very nature of Theology requires us to begin with those branches which relate to the revelation-basis of our science. Our attitude from the outset must be a dependent and receptive one. To let the image of God’s self-revelation in the Scriptures mirror itself as fully and clearly as possible in his mind, is the first and most important duty of every theologian. And it is in accordance with this principle that, in the development of scientific theology through the ages, a group of studies have gradually been separated from the rest and begun to form a smaller organism among themselves, inasmuch as the receptive attitude of the theological consciousness toward the source of revelation was the common idea underlying and controlling them. This group is usually designated by the name of Exegetical Theology. Its formation was not a matter of mere accident, nor the result of definite agreement among theologians; the immanent law of the development of the science, as rooted in its origin, has brought it about in a natural manner.
In classifications of this kind general terms are apt to acquire more or less indefinite meanings. They tend to become formulas used for the purpose of indicating that certain studies belong together from a practical point of view or according to a methodological principle. In many cases it would be fanciful to seek any other than a practical justification for grouping certain branches together. So it is clear on the surface that much is subsumed under the department of Exegetical Theology, which bears only a very remote and indirect relation to its central idea. There are subservient and preparatory studies lying in the periphery and but loosely connected with the organic centre. Nevertheless, if Exegetical Theology is to be more than a conglomerate of heterogeneous studies, having no other than a practical unity, we must expect that at its highest point of development it will appear to embody one of the necessary forms of the essential idea of all Theology, and will unfold itself as knowledge concerning God in the strict sense of the term. The science in which this actually happens will be the heart of the organism of Exegetical Theology.
Exegetical Theology deals with God under the aspect of Revealer of Himself and Author of the Scriptures. It is naturally divided into two parts, of which the one treats of the formation of the Scriptures, the other of the actual revelation of God lying back of this process. We further observe that the formation of the Scriptures serves no other purpose than to perpetuate and transmit the record of God’s self-disclosure to the human race as a whole. Compared with revelation proper, the formation of the Scriptures appears as a means to an end. Bibliology with all its adjuncts, therefore, is not the centre of Exegetical Theology, but is logically subordinated to the other division, which treats of revelation proper. Or, formulating it from the human point of view, all our investigations as to the origin of the Scriptures, their collection into a Canon, their original text, as well as the exegetical researches by which the contents of the Biblical writings are inductively ascertained, ultimately serve the one purpose of teaching us what God has revealed concerning Himself. None of these studies find their aim in themselves, but all have their value determined and their place assigned by the one central study to which they are leading up and in which they find their culminating point. This central study that gives most adequate and natural expression to the idea of Exegetical Theology is Biblical Theology.
In general, then, Biblical Theology is that part of Exegetical Theology which deals with the revelation of God. It makes use of all the results that have been obtained by all the preceding studies in this department. Still, we must endeavor to determine more precisely in what sense this general definition is to be understood. For it might be said of Systematic Theology, nay of the whole of Theology, with equal truth, that it deals with supernatural revelation. The specific character of Biblical Theology lies in this, that it discusses both the form and contents of revelation from the point of view of the revealing activity of God Himself. In other words, it deals with revelation in the active sense, as an act of God, and tries to understand and trace and describe this act, so far as this is possible to man and does not elude our finite observation. In Biblical Theology both the form and contents of revelation are considered as parts and products of a divine work. In Systematic Theology these same contents of revelation appear, but not under the aspect of the stages of a divine work; rather as the material for a human work of classifying and systematizing according to logical principles. Biblical Theology applies no other method of grouping and arranging these contents than is given in the divine economy of revelation itself.
From this it follows that, in order to obtain a more definite conception of Biblical Theology, we must try to gather the general features of God’s revealing work. Here, as in other cases, the organism of a science can be conceived and described only by anticipating its results. The following statements, accordingly, are not to be considered in the light of an a priori construction, but simply formulate what the study of Biblical Theology itself has taught us.
The first feature characteristic of supernatural revelation is its historical progress. God has not communicated to us the knowledge of the truth as it appears in the calm light of eternity to his own timeless vision. He has not given it in the form of abstract propositions logically correlated and systematized. The simple fact that it is the task of Systematic Theology to reproduce revealed truth in such form, shows that it does not possess this form from the beginning. The self-revelation of God is a work covering ages, proceeding in a sequence of revealing words and acts, appearing in a long perspective of time. The truth comes in the form of growing truth, not truth at rest. No doubt the explanation of this fact is partly to be sought in the finiteness of the human understanding. Even that part of the knowledge of God which has been revealed to us is so overwhelmingly great and so far transcends our human capacities, is such a flood of light, that it had, as it were, gradually to be let in upon us, ray after ray, and not the full radiancy at once. By imparting the elements of the knowledge of Himself in a divinely-arranged sequence God has pointed out to us the way in which we might gradually grasp and truly know Him. This becomes still more evident, if we remember that this revelation is intended for all ages and nations and classes and conditions of men, and therefore must adapt itself to the most various characters and temperaments by which it is to be assimilated.
We feel, however, that this explanation, however plausible in itself, is but a partial one, and can never completely satisfy. The deeper ground for the historic character of revelation cannot lie in the limitations of the human subject, but must be sought in the nature of revelation itself. Revelation is not an isolated act of God, existing without connection with all the other divine acts of supernatural character. It constitutes a part of that great process of the new creation through which the present universe as an organic whole shall be redeemed from the consequences of sin and restored to its ideal state, which it had originally in the intention of God. Now, this new creation, in the objective, universal sense, is not something completed by a single act all at once, but is a history with its own law of organic development. It could not be otherwise, inasmuch as at every point it proceeds on the basis of and in contact with the natural development of this world and of the human race, and, the latter being in the form of history, the former must necessarily assume that form likewise. It is simply owing to our habit of unduly separating revelation from this comprehensive background of the total redeeming work of God, that we fail to appreciate its historic, progressive nature. We conceive of it as a series of communications of abstract truth forming a body by itself, and are at a loss to see why this truth should be parcelled out to man little by little and not given in its completeness at once. As soon as we realize that revelation is at almost every point interwoven with and conditioned by the redeeming activity of God in its wider sense, and together with the latter connected with the natural development of the present world, its historic character becomes perfectly intelligible and ceases to cause surprise.
In this great redeeming process two stages are to be distinguished. First come those acts of God which have a universal and objective significance, being aimed at the production of an organic centre for the new order of things. After this has been accomplished, there follows a second stage during which this objective redemption is subjectively applied to individuals. In both the stages the supernatural element is present, though in the former, owing to its objective character, it appears more distinctly than in the latter. The whole series of redeeming acts, culminating in the incarnation and atoning work of the Mediator and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit, bears the signature of the miraculous on its very face. But the supernatural, though not objectively controllable, is none the less present during the later stage in each case where an individual soul is regenerated. Revelation as such, however, is not coextensive with this whole process in both its stages. Its history is limited to the former half, that is, it accompanies in its progress the gradual unfolding of the central and objective salvation of God, and no sooner is the latter accomplished than revelation also has run its course and its voice ceases to speak. The reason for this is obvious. The revelation of God being not subjective and individual in its nature, but objective and addressed to the human race as a whole, it is but natural that this revelation should be embedded in the channels of the great objective history of redemption and extend no further than this. In point of fact, we see that, when the finished salvation worked out among Israel is stripped of its particularistic form to extend to all nations, at the same moment the completed oracles of God are given to the human race as a whole to be henceforth subjectively studied and appropriated. It is as unreasonable to expect revelations after the close of the Apostolic age as it would be to think that the great saving facts of that period can be indefinitely increased and repeated.
Even this, however, is not sufficient to show the historic character of revelation in its full extent. Up to this point we have only seen how the disclosure of truth in general follows the course of the history of redemption. We now must add that in not a few cases revelation is identified with history. Besides making use of words, God has also employed acts to reveal great principles of truth. It is not so much the prophetic visions or miracles in the narrower sense that we think of in this connection. We refer more specially to those great, supernatural, history-making acts of which we have examples in the redemption of the covenant-people from Egypt, or in the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ. In these cases the history itself forms a part of revelation. There is a self-disclosure of God in such acts. They would speak even if left to speak for themselves. Forming part of history, these revealing acts necessarily assume historical relations among themselves, and succeed one another according to a well-defined principle of historical sequence. Furthermore, we observe that this system of revelation-acts is not interpolated into the larger system of biblical history after a fanciful and mechanical fashion. The relation between the two systems is vital and organic. These miraculous interferences of God to which we ascribe a revealing character, furnish the great joints and ligaments by which the whole framework of sacred history is held together, and its entire structure determined. God’s saving deeds mark the critical epochs of history, and as such, have continued to shape its course for centuries after their occurrence.
Of course we should never forget that, wherever revelation and the redemptive acts of God coincide, the latter frequently have an ulterior purpose extending beyond the sphere of revelation. The crucifixion and resurrection of Christ were acts not exclusively intended to reveal something to man, but primarily intended to serve some definite purpose in reference to God. In so far as they satisfied the divine justice it would be inaccurate to view them under the aspect of revelation primarily or exclusively. Nevertheless, the revealing element is essential even in their case, the two ends of satisfaction and of revelation being combined into one. And in the second place, we must remember that the revealing acts of God never appear separated from His verbal communications of truth. Word and act always accompany each other, and in their interdependence strikingly illustrate our former statement, to the effect that revelation is organically connected with the introduction of a new order of things into this sinful world. Revelation is the light of this new world which God has called into being. The light needs the reality and the reality needs the light to produce the vision of the beautiful creation of His grace. To apply the Kantian phraseology to a higher subject, without God’s acts the words would be empty, without His words the acts would be blind.
A second ground for the historic character of revelation may be found in its eminently practical aspect. The knowledge of God communicated by it is nowhere for a purely intellectual purpose. From beginning to end it is a knowledge intended to enter into the actual life of man, to be worked out by him in all its practical bearings. The Shemitic, and in particular the Biblical, conception of knowledge is distinguished from the Greek, more intellectualistic idea, by the prominence of this practical element. To know, in the Shemitic sense, is to have the consciousness of the reality and the properties of something interwoven with one’s life through the closest intercourse and communion attainable. Now in this manner God has interwoven the supernaturally communicated knowledge of Himself with the historic life of the chosen race, so as to secure for it a practical form from the beginning. Revelation is connected throughout with the fate of Israel. Its disclosures arise from the necessities of that nation, and are adjusted to its capacities. It is such a living historical thing that it has shaped the very life of this nation into the midst of which it descended. The importance of this aspect of revelation has found its clearest expression in the idea of the covenant as the form of God’s progressive self-communication to Israel. God has not revealed Himself in a school, but in the covenant; and the covenant as a communion of life is all-comprehensive, embracing all the conditions and interests of those contracting it. There is a knowledge and an imparting of knowledge here, but in a most practical way and not merely by theoretical instruction.
If in the foregoing we have correctly described the most general character of revelation, we may enlarge our definition of Biblical Theology by saying that it is that part of Exegetical Theology which deals with the revelation of God in its historic continuity. We must now advance beyond this and inquire more particularly in what specific type of history God has chosen to embody His revelation. The idea of historic development is not sufficiently definite of itself to explain the manner in which divine truth has been progressively revealed. It is not until we ascribe to this progress an organic character that the full significance of the historic principle springs into view.
The truth of revelation, if it is to retain its divine and absolute character at all, must be perfect from the beginning. Biblical Theology deals with it as a product of a supernatural divine activity, and is therefore bound by its own principle to maintain the perfection of revealed truth in all its stages. When, nevertheless, Biblical Theology also undertakes to show how the truth has been gradually set forth in greater fullness and clearness, these two facts can be reconciled in no other way than by assuming that the advance in revelation resembles the organic process, through which out of the perfect germ the perfect plant and flower and fruit are successively produced.
Although the knowledge of God has received material increase through the ages, this increase nowhere shows the features of external accretion, but throughout appears as an internal expansion, an organic unfolding from within. The elements of truth, far from being mechanically added one to the other in lifeless succession, are seen to grow out of each other, each richer and fuller disclosure of the knowledge of God having been prepared for by what preceded, and being in its turn preparatory for what follows. That this is actually so, follows from the soteriological purpose which revelation in the first instance is intended to serve. At all times, from the very first to the last, revealed truth has been kept in close contact with the wants and emergencies of the living generation. And these human needs, notwithstanding all variations of outward circumstance, being essentially the same in all periods, it follows that the heart of divine truth, that by which men live, must have been present from the outset, and that each subsequent increase consisted in the unfolding of what was germinally contained in the beginning of revelation. The Gospel of Paradise is such a germ in which the Gospel of Paul is potentially present; and the Gospel of Abraham, of Moses, of David, of Isaiah and Jeremiah, are all expansions of this original message of salvation, each pointing forward to the next stage of growth, and bringing the Gospel-idea one step nearer to its full realization. In this Gospel of Paradise we already discern the essential features of a covenant-relation, though the formal notion of a covenant does not attach to it. And in the covenant-promises given to Abraham these very features reappear, assume greater distinctness, and are seen to grow together, to crystallize as it were, into the formal covenant. From this time onward the expansive character of the covenant-idea shows itself. The covenant of Abraham contains the promise of the Sinaitic covenant; the latter again, from its very nature, gives rise to prophecy; and prophecy guards the covenant of Sinai from assuming a fixed, unalterable form, the prophetic word being a creative word under the influence of which the spiritual, universal germs of the covenant are quickened and a new, higher order of things is organically developed from the Mosaic theocracy, that new covenant of which Jeremiah spoke, and which our Saviour brought to light by the shedding of His blood. So dispensation grows out of dispensation, and the newest is but the fully expanded flower of the oldest.
The same principle may also be established more objectively, if we consider the specific manner in which God realizes the renewal of this sinful kosmos in accordance with His original purpose. This renewal is not brought about by mechanically changing one part after the other. God’s method is much rather that of creating within the organism of the present world the centre of the world of redemption, and then organically building up the new order of things around this centre. Hence from the beginning all redeeming acts of God aim at the creation and introduction of this new organic principle, which is none other than Christ. All Old Testament redemption is but the saving activity of God working toward the realization of this goal, the great supernatural prelude to the Incarnation and the Atonement. And Christ having appeared as the head of the new humanity and having accomplished His atoning work, the further renewal of the kosmos is effected through an organic extension of His power in ever widening circles. In this sense the Apostle speaks of the fashioning anew of the body of our humiliation, that it may be conformed to the body of the glory of Christ, saying that this will happen “according to the working whereby He is able to subject even all things unto Himself” (Phil. 3:21). If, then, this supernatural process of transformation proceeds on organic principles, and if, as we have shown, revelation is but the light accompanying it in its course, the reflection of its divine realities in the sphere of knowledge, we cannot escape from the conclusion that revelation itself must exhibit a similar organic progress. In point of fact, we find that the actual working of Old Testament redemption toward the coming of Christ in the flesh, and the advance of revealed knowledge concerning Christ, keep equal pace everywhere. The various stages in the gradual concentration of Messianic prophecy, as when the human nature of our Saviour is successively designated as the seed of the woman, the seed of Abraham, the seed of Judah, the seed of David, His figure assuming more distinct features at each narrowing of the circle—what are they but disclosures of the divine counsel corresponding in each case to new realities and new conditions created by His redeeming power? And as in the history of redemption there are critical stages in which the great acts of God as it were accumulate, so we find that at such junctures the process of revelation is correspondingly accelerated, and that a few years show, perhaps, more rapid growth and greater expansion than centuries that lie between. For, although the development of the root may be slow and the stem and leaves may grow almost imperceptibly, there comes a time when the bud emerges in a day and the flower expands in an hour to our wondering sight.* Such epochs of quickened revelation were the times of Abraham, of Moses, of David, and especially the days of the Son of Man.
This progress, moreover, increases in rapidity the nearer revelation approaches to its final goal. What rich developments, what wealth of blossoming and fruitage are compressed within the narrow limits of that period—no more than one lifetime—that is covered by the New Testament! In this, indeed, we have the most striking proof of the organic nature of the progress of revelation. Every organic development serves to embody an idea; and as soon as this idea has found full and adequate expression, the organism receives the stamp of perfection and develops no further. Because the New Testament times brought the final realization of the divine counsel of redemption as to its objective and central facts, therefore New Testament revelation brought the full-grown Word of God, in which the new-born world, which is complete in Christ, mirrors itself. In this final stage of revelation the deepest depths of eternity are opened up to the eye of Apostle and Seer. Hence, the frequent recurrence of the expression, “before the foundation of the world.” We feel at every point that the last veil is drawn aside and that we stand face to face with the disclosure of the great mystery which was hidden in the divine purpose through the ages. All salvation, all truth in regard to man, has its eternal foundation in the Triune God Himself. It is this Triune God who here reveals Himself as the everlasting reality, from whom all truth proceeds, whom all truth reflects, be it the little streamlet of Paradise or the broad river of the New Testament losing itself again in the ocean of eternity. After this nothing higher can come. All the separate lines along which through the ages revelation was carried, have converged and met at a single point. The seed of the woman and the Angel of Jehovah are become one in the Incarnate Word. And as Christ is glorified once for all, so from the crowning glory and perfection of His revelation in the New Testament nothing can be taken away; nor can anything be added thereunto.
There is one more feature of the organic character of revelation which I must briefly allude to. Historic progress is not the only means used by God to disclose the full contents of His eternal Word. Side by side with it, we witness a striking multiformity of teaching employed for the same purpose. All along the historic stem of revelation, branches are seen to shoot forth, frequently more than one at a time, each of which helps to realize the complete idea of the truth for its own part and after its own peculiar manner. The legal, the prophetic, the poetic elements in the Old Testament are clearly-distinct types of revelation, and in the New Testament we have something corresponding to these in the Gospels, the Epistles, the Apocalypse. Further, within the limits of these great divisions there are numerous minor variations, closely associated with the peculiarities of individual character. Isaiah and Jeremiah are distinct, and so are John and Paul. And this differentiation rather increases than decreases with the progress of sacred history. It is greater in the New Testament than in the Old. The laying of the historic basis for Israel’s covenant-life has been recorded by one author, Moses; the historic basis of the New Testament dispensation we know from the fourfold version of the Gospels. The remainder of the New Testament writings are in the form of letters, in which naturally the personal element predominates. The more fully the light shone upon the realization of the whole counsel of God and disclosed its wide extent, the more necessary it became to expound it in all its bearings, to view it at different angles, thus to bring out what Paul calls the much-variegated, the manifold, wisdom of God. For, God having chosen to reveal the truth through human instruments, it follows that these instruments must be both numerous and of varied adaptation to the common end. Individual coloring, therefore, and a peculiar manner of representation are not only not detrimental to a full statement of the truth, but directly subservient to it. God’s method of revelation includes the very shaping and chiselling of individualities for His own objective ends. To put it concretely: we must not conceive of it as if God found Paul “ready-made,” as it were, and in using Paul as an organ of revelation, had to put up with the fact that the dialectic mind of Paul reflected the truth in a dialectic, dogmatic form to the detriment of the truth. The facts are these: the truth having inherently, besides other aspects, a dialectic and dogmatic side, and God intending to give this side full expression, chose Paul from the womb, moulded his character, and gave him such a training that the truth revealed through him necessarily bore the dogmatic and dialectic impress of His mind. The divine objectivity and the human individuality here do not collide, nor exclude each other, because the man Paul, with his whole character, his gifts, and his training, is subsumed under the divine plan. The human is but the glass through which the divine light is reflected, and all the sides and angles into which the glass has been cut serve no other purpose than to distribute to us the truth in all the riches of its prismatic colors.
In some cases growth in the organism of revelation is closely dependent on this variety in the type of teaching. There are instances in which two or more forms of the one truth have been brought to light simultaneously, each of which exercised a deepening and enlarging influence upon the others. The Gospel of John contains revelations contemporaneous with those of the Synoptists, so that chronologically we can distribute its material over the pages of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Nevertheless, taken as a whole and in its unity, the Gospel of John represents a fuller and wider self-revelation of Christ than the Synoptists; and not only so, but it also represents a type of revelation which presupposes the facts and teachings of the other Gospels, and is, in point of order, subsequent to them. The same thing might be said of Isaiah in its relation to Micah. So the variety itself contributes to the progress of revelation. Even in these cases of contemporaneous development along distinct lines and in independent directions, there is a mysterious force at work, which makes “the several parts grow out of and into each other with mutual support, so that the whole body is fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplies, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part.”
We may now perhaps attempt to frame a complete definition of our science. The preceding remarks have shown that the divine work of revelation did not proceed contrary to all law, but after a well-defined organic principle. Wherever there is a group of facts sufficiently distinct from their environment, and determined by some law of orderly sequence, we are justified in making these facts the object of scientific discussion. Far from there being in the conception of Biblical Theology anything at variance with the idea of Theology as based on the revealed knowledge of God, we have found that the latter even directly postulates the former. Biblical Theology, rightly defined, is nothing else than the exhibition of the organic progress of supernatural revelation in its historic continuity and multiformity.
It must be admitted, however, that not everything passing under the name of Biblical Theology satisfies the requirements of this definition. From the end of the preceding century, when our science first appears as distinct from Dogmatic Theology, until now, she has stood under the spell of un-Biblical principles. Her very birth took place under an evil star. It was the spirit of Rationalism which first led to distinguishing in the contents of the Scriptures between what was purely human, individual, local, temporal—in a word, conditioned by the subjectivity of the writers—and what was eternally valid, divine truth. The latter, of course, was identified with the teachings of the shallow Rationalism of that period. Thus Biblical Theology, which can only rest on the basis of revelation, began with a denial of this basis; and a science, whose task it is to set forth the historic principles of revelation, was trained up in a school notorious for its lack of historic sense. For to this type of Rationalism history, as such, is the realm of the contingent, the relative, the arbitrary, whilst only the deliverances of pure reason possess the predicate of absoluteness and universal validity. In this Biblical Theology of Rationalism, therefore, the historical principle merely served to eliminate or neutralize the revelation-principle. And since that time all the philosophical tendencies that have influenced Theology in general have also left their impress upon Biblical Theology in particular. It is not necessary for our present purpose to trace the various lines and currents of this complicated history; the less so since there can be no doubt but that they are rapidly merging into the great stream of Evolutionistic Philosophy, which, whatever truth there may be in its application to certain groups of phenomena, yet, as a general theory of the universe, is the most direct antithesis to the fundamental principles of revelation and Christianity.
That the influence of this philosophy, as it expresses and in turn moulds the spirit of the age, is perceptible in the field of Theology everywhere, no careful observer of recent events will deny. But Biblical Theology is, perhaps, more than any other branch of theological study affected by it, because its principle of historic progress in revelation seems to present certain analogies with the evolutionary scheme, and to offer exceptional opportunities for applying the latter, without departing too far from the real contents of Scripture. This analogy, of course, is merely formal, and from a material point of view there is a world-wide difference between that philosophy of history which the Bible itself outlines, and which alone Biblical Theology, if it wishes to remain Biblical, has a right to adopt, and, on the other hand, the so-called facts of the Bible pressed into the evolutionary formulas. It is especially in two respects that the principles of this philosophy have worked a radical departure from the right treatment of our science as it is prescribed by both the supernatural character of Christianity and the nature of Theology. In the first place, evolution is bent upon showing that the process of development is everywhere from the lower and imperfect to the higher and relatively more perfect forms, from impure beginnings through a gradual purification to some ideal end. So in regard to the knowledge of God, whose growth we observe in the Biblical writings, evolution cannot rest until it shall have traced its gradual advance from sensual, physical conceptions to ethical and spiritual ideas, from Animism and Polytheism to Monolatry and Monotheism. But this of necessity rules out the revelation-factor from Biblical Theology. Revelation as an act of God, theistically conceived of, can in no wise be associated with anything imperfect or impure or below the standard of absolute truth. However much Christian people may blind themselves to the fact, the outcome will show, as it does already show, that the principles of supernatural redemption and natural evolution are mutually exclusive. Hence, even now, those who accept the evolutionary construction of Biblical history, either openly and without reserve renounce the idea of supernatural revelation, or strip it of its objectivity so as to make it less antagonistic to that of natural development. In the same degree, however, that the latter is done, revelation loses its distinctively theistic character and begins to assume more and more the features of a Pantheistic process, that is, it ceases to be revelation in the commonly accepted sense of the term.
In the second place, the philosophy of evolution has corrupted Theology by introducing its leaven of metaphysical Agnosticism. Inasmuch as only the phenomenal world can become an object of knowledge to us and not the mysterious reality hidden behind the phenomena, and inasmuch as Theology in the old, traditional sense pretended to deal with such metaphysical realities as God and heaven and immortality, it follows that Theology must either be entirely abolished, or must submit to such a reconstruction as will enable her to retain a place among the phenomenalistic sciences. The former would be the more consistent and scientific, but the latter is usually preferred; because it is difficult at one stroke to set aside a thing so firmly rooted in the past. Theology, therefore, is now defined as the science of religion, and that, too, in the sense chiefly of a phenomenology of religion, in which by far the greater part of the investigation is devoted to the superficial external side of religion, and the heart of the matter receives scant treatment. Applied to Biblical Theology, this principle involves that no longer the historic progress of the supernatural revelation of God, but the development of the religion recorded in the Biblical writings, shall become the object of our science. Theology having become the science of religion, Biblical Theology must needs become the history of one, be it the greatest, of all religions, the history of the religion of Israel and of primitive Christianity.
How far this evil has penetrated may be inferred from the fact that there is scarcely a book on Biblical Theology in existence in which this conception of the object of our science is not met with, and in which it does not very largely determine the point of view. It has even vitiated so excellent a work in many respects as Oehler’s Old Testament Theology. Of course, there are many degrees in the thoroughness with which this subjectivizing principle is carried through and applied. Between those who are just beginning to descend the ladder and those who have reached its lowest step, there is a very appreciable difference.
First, there are those who think that, though God has supernaturally revealed Himself in words and acts, nevertheless this revelation pure and simple, cannot be for us an object of scientific discussion, except in so far as it has blended with and produced its effect upon the religious consciousness of the people to whom it was given; and that, consequently, we must posit as the object of Biblical Theology the religion of the Bible, and can hope at the utmost to reason back from this religion as the result, to revelation as the cause that has produced it. To this we would answer, that there is no reason to make Biblical Theology, so conceived, a separate science. The investigation of the religion of Israel as a subjective phenomenon, together with the objective factors called in to explain it, belongs nowhere else than in the department of Biblical History. Furthermore, we believe that the Bible itself has recorded for us the interaction of the objective and the subjective factors in sacred history in such a manner that their joint product is nowhere made the central thought of its teaching, but much rather we are invited everywhere to fix our gaze on the objective self-revelation of God, and only in the second place to observe the subjective reflex of this divine activity in the religious consciousness of the people.
Others are more reserved in their recognition of the supernatural. They would confine the revelation of God to acts, and derive all the doctrinal contents of the Bible from the source of human reflection upon these divine acts. In this manner a compromise is obtained, whereby both the objectivity of revelation and the subjective development of Biblical teaching can be affirmed. This view is unsatisfactory, because it loses sight of the analogy between divine revelation and the ordinary way in which man communicates his thoughts. To man, made in the image of God, speech is the highest instrument of revealing Himself, and it would be strange if God in His self-disclosure entirely dispensed with the use of this instrument. Nor does this view leave any place for prophecy. The prophetic word is frequently a divine word preceding the divine act. Although, as we have seen, the progress of revelation is clearly conditioned by the actual realization of God’s plan of redemption, yet this by no means implies that the saving deeds of God always necessarily go before, and the revelations which cast light on them always follow. In many cases the revealing word comes as an anticipation of the approaching events, as a flash of lightning preceding the thunder of God’s judgments. As Amos strikingly expresses it: “Surely the Lord God will do nothing, but He revealeth His secret unto His servants the prophets” (3:7).
The supernatural factor, however, is reduced to still smaller proportions and entirely deprived of its objectivity by a third group of writers on Biblical Theology. According to these, supernatural revelation does not involve the communication of divine thoughts to man in any direct manner either by words or by actions. Revelation consists in this, that the Divine Spirit, by an unconscious process, stirs the depths of man’s heart so as to cause the springing up therein afterward of certain religious thoughts and feelings, which are as truly human as they are a revelation of God, and are, therefore, only relatively true. It is owing to the influence of the Ritschlian or Neo-Kantian school of Theology that this view has gained new prevalence of late. The people of Israel are held to have possessed a creative religious genius, just as the Greek nation was endowed with a creative genius in the sphere of art. And, although the productions of this genius are ascribed to the impulse of the Divine Spirit, yet this Spirit and His working are represented in such a manner that their distinction from the natural processes of the human mind becomes a mere assumption, exercising no influence whatever on the interpretation of the phenomenal side of Israel’s religion. Writers of this class deal as freely with the facts and teachings of the Bible as the most extreme anti-supranaturalists. But with their evolutionistic treatment of the phenomena they combine the hypothesis of this mystical influence of the Spirit, which they are pleased to call revelation. It is needless to say that revelation of this kind must remain forever inaccessible to objective proof or verification. Whatever can pretend to be scientific in this theory lacks all rapport with the idea of the Supernatural, and whatever there lingers in it of diluted Supernaturalism lacks all scientific character.
I have endeavored to sketch with a few strokes those principles and tendencies by which the study of Biblical Theology is almost exclusively controlled at the present time, because they seem to me to indicate the points which ought to receive special emphasis in the construction of our science on a truly Scriptural and theological basis. The first of these is the objective character of revelation. Biblical Theology must insist upon claiming for its object not the thoughts and reflections and speculations of man, but the oracles of God. Whosoever weakens or subjectivizes this fundamental idea of revelation, strikes a blow at the very heart of Theology and Supernatural Christianity, nay, of Theism itself. Every type of Biblical Theology bent upon ignoring or minimizing this supreme, central idea, is a most dangerous product. It is an indisputable fact that all modern views of revelation which are deficient in recognizing its objective character, fit far better into a Pantheistic than into a Theistic theory of the universe. If God be the unconscious background of the world, it is altogether natural that His truth and light should in a mysterious manner loom up from the unexplorable regions that underlie human consciousness, that in His very act of revealing Himself He should be conditioned and entangled and obstructed by man. If, on the other hand, God be conscious and personal, the inference is that in His self-disclosure He will assert and maintain His personality, so as to place His divine thoughts before us with the stamp of divinity upon them, in a truly objective manner. By making revelation, both as to its form and contents, a special object of study, Biblical Theology may be expected to contribute something toward upholding this important conception in its true objectivity, toward more sharply defining it and guarding it from confusion with all heterogeneous ideas.
The second point to be emphasized in our treatment of Biblical Theology is that the historical character of the truth is not in any way antithetical to, but throughout subordinated to, its revealed character. Scriptural truth is not absolute, notwithstanding its historic setting; but the historic setting has been employed by God for the very purpose of revealing the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It is not the duty of Biblical Theology to seek first the historic features of the Scriptural ideas, and to think that the absolute character of the truth as revealed of God is something secondary to be added thereunto. The reality of revelation should be the supreme factor by which the historic factor is kept under control. With the greatest variety of historical aspects, there can, nevertheless, be no inconsistencies or contradictions in the Word of God. The student of Biblical Theology is not to hunt for little systems in the Bible that shall be mutually exclusive, or to boast of his skill in detecting such as a mark of high scholarship. What has been remarked above, in regard to the place of individuality in the plan of revelation, may be applied with equal justice to the historic phases through which the progressive delivery of the truth has passed. God has done for the historic unfolding of His word as a whole what He has done for the reproduction of its specific types and aspects through the forming and training of individuals. As He knew Jeremiah and Paul from the womb, so He knew Israel and prepared Israel for its task. The history of this nation is not a common history; it is sacred history in the highest sense of having been specially designed by God to become the human receptacle for the truth from above.
In the third place, Biblical Theology should plant itself squarely upon the truthfulness of the Scriptures as a whole. Revelation proper announces and records the saving deeds of God, but a mere announcement and record is not sufficient to furnish a complete history of redemption, to produce a living image of the new order of things as it is gradually called into existence. No true history can be made by a mere chronicling of events. Only by placing the bare record of the facts in the light of the principles which shape them, and the inner nexus which holds them together, is the work of the chronicler transformed into history. For this reason God has not given us His own interpretation of the great realities of redemption in the form of a chronicle, but in the form of the historical organism of the inspired Scriptures. The direct revelations of God form by far the smaller part of the contents of the Bible. These are but the scattered diamonds woven into the garment of the truth. This garment itself is identical with the Scriptural contents as a whole. And as a whole it has been prepared by the hand of God. The Bible contains, besides the simple record of direct revelations, the further interpretation of these immediate disclosures of God by inspired prophets and apostles. Above all, it contains, if I may so call it, a divine philosophy of the history of redemption and of revelation in general outlines. And whosoever is convinced in his heart of the inspiration of the Holy Scriptures and reads his Bible as the Word of God, cannot, as a student of Biblical Theology, allow himself to reject this divine philosophy and substitute for it another of his own making. Our Theology will be Biblical in the full sense, only when it not merely derives its material from the Bible, but also accepts at the hands of the Bible the order in which this material is to be grouped and located. I for one am not ashamed to say that the teachings of Paul concerning the historic organism of the Old Testament economy possess for me greater authority than the reconstructions of the same by modern scholars, however great their learning and critical acumen.
Finally, in designating our science as Biblical Theology, we should not fail to enter a protest against the wrong inferences that may be easily drawn from the use of this name. The name retains somewhat of the flavor of the Rationalism which first adopted it. It almost unavoidably creates an impression as if in the Bible we had the beginning of the process that later gave us the works of Origen, Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Luther, and Calvin. Hence some do not hesitate to define Biblical Theology as the History of Dogmatics for Biblical times. To us this sounds as strange and illogical as if one should compare the stars of the firmament and their history with the work and history of astronomy. As the heavens contain the material for astronomy and the crust of the earth for geology, so the mighty creation of the Word of God furnishes the material for Theology in this scientific sense, but is no Theology. It is something infinitely higher than Theology, a world of spiritual realities, into which all true theologians are led by the Spirit of the living God. Only if we take the term Theology in its more primitive and simple meaning, as the practical, historic knowledge of God imparted by revelation and deposited in the Bible, can we justify the use of the now commonly accepted name of our science. As for the scientific elaboration of this God-given material, this must be held to lie beyond the Biblical period. It could only spring up after revelation and the formation of the Scriptures had been completed. The utmost that can be conceded would be that in the Apostolic teaching of the New Testament the first signs of the beginning of this process are discernible. But even that which the Apostles teach is in no sense primarily to be viewed under the aspect of Theology. It is the inspired Word of God before all other things. No theologian would dare to say of his work what Paul said to the Galatians: “But though we or an angel from heaven should preach unto you any gospel other than that which we preached unto you, let him be anathema” (1:8).*

In the foregoing I have endeavored to describe to you the nature and functions of Biblical Theology as a member in the organism of our scientific knowledge of God. I have not forgotten, however, that you have called me to teach this science for the eminently practical purpose of training young men for the ministry of the Gospel. Consequently, I shall not have acquitted myself of my task on this occasion unless you will permit me to point out briefly what are the advantages to be expected from the pursuit of this study in a more practical way.
First of all, Biblical Theology exhibits to the student of the Word the organic structure of the truth therein contained, and its organic growth as the result of revelation. It shows to him that in the Bible there is an organization finer, more complicated, more exquisite than even the texture of muscles and nerves and brain in the human body; that its various parts are interwoven and correlated in the most subtle manner, each sensitive to the impressions received from all the others, perfect in itself, and yet dependent upon the rest, while in them and through them all throbs as a unifying principle the Spirit of God’s living truth. If anything, then this is adapted to convince the student that what the Bible places before him is not the chance product of the several human minds that have been engaged in its composition, but the workmanship of none other than God Himself. The organic structure of the truth and the organic development of revelation as portrayed in the Bible bear exactly the same relation to Supernaturalism that the argument from design in nature bears to Theism. Both arguments proceed on precisely analogous lines. If the history of revelation actually is the organic history, full of evidences of design, which the Bible makes it out to be, then it must have been shaped in an altogether unique fashion by the revealing activity of God.
In the second place, Biblical Theology is suited to furnish a most effective antidote to the destructive critical views now prevailing. These modern theories, however much may be asserted to the contrary, disorganize the Scriptures. Their chief danger lies, not in affirmations concerning matters of minor importance, concerning errors in historical details, but in the most radical claims upsetting the inner organization of the whole body of truth. We have seen that the course of revelation is most closely identified with the history described in the Bible. Of this history of the Bible, this framework on which the whole structure of revelation rests, the newest criticism asserts that it is falsified and unhistorical for the greater part. All the historical writings of the Old Testament in their present state are tendency-writings. Even where they embody older and more reliable documents, the Deuteronomic and Levitical paste, applied to them in and after the exile, has obliterated the historic reality. Now, if it were known among believing Christians to what an extent these theories disorganize the Bible, their chief spell would be broken; and many would repudiate with horror what they now tolerate or view with indifference. There is no other way of showing this than by placing over against the critical theories the organic history of revelation, as the Bible itself constructs it. As soon as this is done, everybody will be able to see at a glance that the two are mutually subversive. This very thing Biblical Theology endeavors to do. It thus meets the critical assaults, not in a negative way by defending point after point of the citadel, whereby no total effect is produced and the critics are always permitted to reply that they attack merely the outworks, not the central position of the faith; but in the most positive manner, by setting forth what the principle of revelation involves according to the Bible, and how one part of it stands or falls together with all the others. The student of Biblical Theology has the satisfaction of knowing that his treatment of Biblical matters is not prescribed for him exclusively by the tactics of his enemies, and that, while most effectually defending the truth, he at the same time is building the temple of divine knowledge on the positive foundation of the faith.
In the third place, I should mention as a desirable fruit of the study of Biblical Theology, the new life and freshness which it gives to the old truth, showing it in all its historic vividness and reality with the dew of the morning of revelation upon its opening leaves. It is certainly not without significance that God has embodied the contents of revelation, not in a dogmatic system, but in a book of history, the parallel to which in dramatic interest and simple eloquence is nowhere to be found. It is this that makes the Scriptures speak and appeal to and touch the hearts and lead the minds of men captive to the truth everywhere. No one will be able to handle the Word of God more effectually than he to whom the treasure-chambers of its historic meaning have been opened up. It is this that brings the divine truth so near to us, makes it as it were bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh, that humanizes it in the same sense that the highest revelation in Christ was rendered most human by the incarnation. To this historical character of revelation we owe the fullness and variety which enable the Scriptures to mete out new treasures to all ages without becoming exhausted or even fully explored. A Biblical Theology imbued with the devout spirit of humble faith in the revealed Word of God, will enrich the student with all this wealth of living truth, making him in the highest sense a householder, bringing forth out of his treasures things new and old.
Fourthly, Biblical Theology is of the greatest importance and value for the study of Systematic Theology. It were useless to deny that it has been often cultivated in a spirit more or less hostile to the work in which Systematic Theology is engaged. The very name Biblical Theology is frequently vaunted so as to imply a protest against the alleged un-Biblical character of Dogmatics. I desire to state most emphatically here, that there is nothing in the nature and aims of Biblical Theology to justify such an implication. For anything pretending to supplant Dogmatics there is no place in the circle of Christian Theology. All attempts to show that the doctrines developed and formulated by the Church have no real foundation in the Bible, stand themselves without the pale of Theology, inasmuch as they imply that Christianity is a purely natural phenomenon, and that the Church has now for nineteen centuries been chasing her own shadow. Dogmatic Theology is, when rightly cultivated, as truly a Biblical and as truly an inductive science as its younger sister. And the latter needs a constructive principle for arranging her facts as well as the former. The only difference is, that in the one case this constructive principle is systematic and logical, whereas in the other case it is purely historical. In other words, Systematic Theology endeavors to construct a circle, Biblical Theology seeks to reproduce a line. I do not mean by the use of this figure, that within Biblical Theology there is no grouping of facts at all. The line of which I speak does not represent a monotonous recital of revelation, and does not resemble a string, even though it be conceived of as a string of pearls. The line of revelation is like the stem of those trees that grow in rings. Each successive ring has grown out of the preceding one. But out of the sap and vigor that is in this stem there springs a crown with branches and leaves and flowers and fruit. Such is the true relation between Biblical and Systematic Theology. Dogmatics is the crown which grows out of all the work that Biblical Theology can accomplish. And taught in this spirit of Christian willingness to serve, our science cannot fail to benefit Systematic Theology in more than one respect. It will proclaim the fact, too often forgotten and denied in our days, that true religion cannot dispense with a solid basis of objective knowledge of the truth. There is no better means of silencing the supercilious cant that right believing is of small importance in the matter of religion, than by showing what infinite care our Father in heaven has taken to reveal unto us, in the utmost perfection, the knowledge of what He is and does for our salvation. Biblical Theology will also demonstrate that the fundamental doctrines of our faith do not rest, as many would fain believe, on an arbitrary exposition of some isolated proof-texts. It will not so much prove these doctrines, as it will do what is far better than proof—make them grow out organically before our eyes from the stem of revelation. Finally, it will contribute to keep Systematic Theology in living contact with that soil of divine realities from which it must draw all its strength and power to develop beyond what it has already attained.
Let us not forget, however, that as of all theology, so of Biblical Theology, the highest aim cannot lie in man, or in anything that serves the creature. Its most excellent practical use is surely this, that it grants us a new vision of the glory of Him who has made all things to the praise of His own wonderful name. As the Uncreated, the Unchangeable, Eternal God, He lives above the sphere of history. He is the Being and never the Becoming One. And, no doubt, when once this veil of time shall be drawn aside, when we shall see face to face, then also the necessity for viewing His knowledge in the glass of history will cease. But since on our behalf and for our salvation He has condescended to work and speak in the form of time, and thus to make His works and His speech partake of that peculiar glory that attaches to all organic growth, let us also seek to know Him as the One that is, that was, and that is to come, in order that no note may be lacking in that psalm of praise to be sung by the Church into which all our Theology must issue.

Vos, G. (1894). The Idea of Biblical Theology as a Science and as a Theological Discipline. In Inauguration of the Rev. Geerhardus Vos, Ph.D., D.D., as Professor of Biblical Theology (S. i–40). New York: Anson D. F. Randolph & Company.Tomb Diorama, das Grab ist leer


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HE is risen!

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ROSARY presents: Marry-Age in Old New Te

ROSARY presents: Marry-Age in Old New Testament- by Archbishop Dr. Uwe AE.Rosenkranz –   In der Bibel steht geschrieben: es werden schlechte Zeiten kommen,so daß 7 Frauen einen Mann mit Mantel (Priester) nehmen und sagen:Wir wollen uns auch selebr versorgen, nimm uns nur auf und laß uns nach Deinem Namen heissen. Foster Bible Pictures 0047-1 Jacob Flees Laban (Photo credit: Wikipedia A reconstructed Israelite house, Monarchy period, 10th–7th BCE. Eretz Israel Museum…

Marry-Age in Old New Testament- by Archbishop Dr. Uwe AE.Rosenkranz


In der Bibel steht geschrieben: es werden schlechte Zeiten kommen,
so daß 7 Frauen einen Mann mit Mantel (Priester) nehmen und sagen:
Wir wollen uns auch selebr versorgen, 
nimm uns nur auf und laß uns nach Deinem Namen heissen.

Foster Bible Pictures 0047-1 Jacob Flees Laban

Foster Bible Pictures 0047-1 Jacob Flees Laban (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A reconstructed Israelite house, Monarchy peri...

A reconstructed Israelite house, Monarchy period, 10th–7th BCE. Eretz Israel Museum, Tel Aviv, Israel (Photo credit: Wikipedia)




Marriage in the Old Testament
Most Old Testament texts about marriage reflect Israelite agrarian society in the early Iron Age. Families lived off the produce of the earth. Men, women, and children worked the land, to process its yield, in order to survive. The family property was owned and managed by the male head of the household, who would pass it down to his sons. Sons would remain in their parents’ household, marrying women from outside the immediate family and raising their children on their father’s land (Wright, God’s People, 53–58). Children contributed to the household labor pool, learned how to manage the family farm, and some inherited it upon the death of the family patriarch. In order to keep the property intact, the father would leave most of the inheritance to his oldest son (Deut 22:17).
The Bible’s first marriage story assumes an agricultural context. Adam is a farmer and Eve is the woman who bears his children (Gen 3:16–19; 4:1–2, 25). They share a life of hard work, and the woman may even be subject to the patriarch’s authority. Their marriage is summarized in Gen 2:24: a man seeks a wife from outside his parents’ household and the two start a new family unit.

Arranged Marriages
The general Old Testament practice was for parents to arrange marriages for their children. The parents of a son had a significant stake in deciding who would enter their household and mother their grandchildren. Their role in securing wives for their sons can be seen in stories about the marriages of Ishmael (Gen 21:21), Isaac (Gen 24:1–9), and Er (Gen 38:6). When a man chose his own wife—as with Jacob, Shechem, and Samson—his parents still had an interest in his choice (Gen 28:1–5; 34:4; Judg 14:1–3).
Women’s family members were equally interested in finding good husbands for them. For example, Abraham’s servant deals not only with Isaac’s future wife Rebekah but also with her brother Laban and her father Bethuel (Gen 24:15–61). When Jacob falls in love with Rachel, he must arrange the marriage with her father Laban (Gen 29:15–20). It is worth noting that Jacob must compensate Laban before he can marry Rachel (Gen 17; see also Gen 34:12; Exod 22:16–17; Deut 22:29). Laban will lose Rachel’s contribution to his household economy, while Jacob will gain her labor and her child-bearing potential. Consequently, Jacob needs to pay his future father-in-law a bride-price (Perdue, “Israelite Family,” 184). For her part, Rachel will bring material assets to the marriage, including her maidservant Bilhah (Gen 29:29; see also Gen 24:59–61; Josh 15:18–19). A wife retained control over the property she brought to the marriage. If she lost her husband through death or divorce, it would serve as her economic safety net (Perdue, “Israelite Family,” 184).

The marriages of Isaac and Jacob illustrate another feature of ancient Israelite marriage: endogamy. A young man or woman was expected to marry a member of his or her extended family. Rebekah is Isaac’s first cousin once removed. Leah and Rachel are Jacob’s first cousins on his mother’s side and second cousins once removed on his father’s side. The advantage for husbands like Isaac and Jacob is that, unlike Esau (Gen 27:46), they are not bringing strange women into their fathers’ households. Rebekah, Leah, and Rachel will be used to family customs and relationships, and other adults in the household will be inclined to treat them as family members (Meyers, “Family in Israel,” 36).
Endogamy also benefited the fathers of daughters, like Bethuel and Laban. If a man died without sons, his daughters would inherit his property. If those daughters had married strangers, his property would go to the sons of strangers. However, if his daughters had married their cousins, the property would stay in the family (Perdue, “Israelite Family,” 183).
In the stories of the patriarchs, the practice of endogamy thus keeps the promised land for the members of Abraham’s family. This is why Abraham and Isaac are anxious to find wives for their sons among the descendants of Abraham’s father Terah (Gen 24:1–9; 28:1–5). Indeed, Abraham’s own wife Sarah is his half-sister, a daughter of Terah (Gen 20:12).
Not only is it important for the promised land to belong to Israel, it is also necessary for the portion allotted to a particular tribe to remain within that tribe. In Numbers 27:1–12, for example, the five daughters of Zelophehad inherit his property. In Num 36:1–13 Moses commands them to make endogamous marriages so that Zelophehad’s property stays within the tribe of his clan.
The concern for endogamous marriage reached a peak after the Babylonian Exile (Neh 10:30; 13:3, 23–30; Ezra 9:1–10:44), when the Judaeans who resettled Jerusalem made it a priority to maintain their ethnic identity and religious practices. Priests were especially required not to “marry out,” so that they and their sons would not introduce foreign innovations into temple worship (Ezra 10:18–44).

Marriage and Extramarital Sex
Marriage gave a man exclusive reproductive rights with his wife. If these rights were honored, then his property would pass to his biological children. It was important, therefore, for a man to marry a virgin so that the paternity of his first child would be certain. This made it necessary for a father to guard the virginity of his daughters so that he could see them safely married. A family’s honor thus depended on the patriarch’s ability to control the sexual activity of his female dependents, including wives, daughters, and unmarried sisters (Yee, “Hosea,” 301–02).
Old Testament law reflects the significance of male reproductive rights and family honor. For example, Deuteronomy 22:13–21 imposed a severe penalty on a bride whose husband discovered that she was not a virgin. She was stoned to death because she had besmirched her father’s honor and violated the reproductive rights of her future husband. The adultery prohibition also functioned to guard a husband’s reproductive rights and family honor. If a woman who was either married or betrothed to a husband were to have sex with any other man, both she and the man were put to death (Exod 20:14; Lev 18:20; 20:10; Deut 22:22–24). The story of David and Bathsheba demonstrates the importance of a husband’s reproductive rights (2 Sam 11:1–27). After David has sex with Bathsheba, her pregnancy threatens to expose him to Bathsheba’s husband Uriah, the man whose rights he has violated. He therefore tries to deceive Uriah, and finally has him killed.
The law also addresses rape. If the woman was married, the rapist had violated the rights of her husband. The law pronounced her innocent and the rapist was executed (Deut 22:25–27). If she was a virgin, the rapist had violated the rights of her father, ruining his chances of arranging a suitable marriage for her (Deut 22:28–29). Therefore, the rapist was required to pay the father an extravagant bride-price and marry the woman (Frymer-Kensky, “Virginity,” 92). When Shechem rapes Dinah, he acts responsibly by offering her father, Jacob, a bride-price so that he can marry her (Gen 34:1–12). Amnon, however, by refusing to marry his half-sister Tamar, has made her ineligible for marriage to any other man in her social class. Her brother Absalom becomes responsible for her and for the defense of the family’s honor (2 Sam 13:1–20).

Once married, couples were expected to produce children. This was especially important for men with property, who needed adult sons to inherit their land and goods. Due to the high mortality rate for infants as well as for women in childbirth, the birth of a son and his survival into adulthood was by no means guaranteed. Some men therefore practiced polygamy in order to ensure at least one male heir. Some Old Testament polygamists include Esau (Gen 26:34; 36:1–5), Jacob (Gen 29:21–30), Gideon (Judg 8:30–31), and Elkanah (1 Sam 1:1–2).
The Bible indicates that favoritism was a common problem in polygamous marriages. Jacob, for example, clearly favored Rachel (Gen 29:30), and Elkanah gave special attention to Hannah (1 Sam 1:4–8). A polygamist who was partial to one wife tended to disregard the rights of his other wives and their children. Therefore, the law included two statutes that restricted the consequences of favoritism.

•      A firstborn son had rights of inheritance even if his father disliked his mother (Deut 21:15–17).
•      A man could not favor a second, beloved wife at the expense of a first wife (Exod 21:10). A man who took a second wife had to contribute equally to the support of both wives. This included giving them both the opportunity to conceive children. Presumably, then, only very wealthy men could afford to support more than one wife and her children.

Royal Marriage
Wealthy and influential families often used marriages to form alliances with other prominent families. This was especially true of royal families. For example, David’s marriages to Saul’s daughter Michal and to Abigail, the widow of a wealthy Judahite landowner, seem like clear bids for influence and property (1 Sam 18:17–29; 25:2–42; Levenson and Halpern, “David’s Marriages,” 507–511).
Later royal marriages are intended to cement political ties between nations:

•      David to Maacah of Geshur (2 Sam 3:3)
•      Solomon to Pharaoh’s daughter (1 Kgs 9:16)
•      Ahab to Jezebel of Phoenicia (1 Kgs 16:31)
•      Jehoram of Judah to Athaliah of Israel (2 Kgs 8:26)

Psalm 45 was probably commissioned for such a royal wedding. It describes a handsome king, his bride who must forget her people, and their expected offspring. Kings in particular had the political incentive and necessary resources to marry several wives. The wealthy king Solomon is said to have had 700 wives and 300 concubines (1 Kgs 11:3).

Death and Divorce
A man’s reproductive rights with his wife were terminated either by his death or by his choosing to end the marriage in divorce. In either case, the woman was free to marry another man. An exception, however, applied to childless widows. If a married man died before producing an heir, he left the succession in limbo. It is here that the practice of levirate marriage came into play.

Levirate Marriage. It was the duty of the nearest male relative of a deceased man to marry the childless widow and to father her children. Her firstborn son would then be acknowledged as the son of her deceased husband and would inherit his property. This practice is known as levirate marriage (from “levir,” Latin for “husband’s brother”). It is codified in Deut 25:5–10 and enforced with strong sanctions. Boaz enters into a levirate marriage with his kinsman’s widow, Ruth. Their son Obed then stands to inherit the property of Ruth’s deceased father-in-law Elimelech (Ruth 4:10). Judah’s son Onan similarly enters into a levirate marriage with his brother Er’s widow Tamar (Gen 38:8–10). Onan’s duty to father his brother’s children is so important that God punishes his negligence with death.

Divorce. If a man was not pleased with his wife, the law allowed him to divorce her. In the certificate of divorce, he publicly relinquished his reproductive rights, thus enabling her to remarry (Deut 24:1–2). A divorced wife retained her pre-marital property in addition to any divorce settlement as agreed between her husband and her father. If a divorced woman remarried and her second husband also divorced her, the first husband was not permitted to remarry her (Deut 24:3–4). Since he had already renounced his rights, he could not reclaim them and so profit from any divorce settlement from her second marriage (Frymer-Kensky, “Deuteronomy,” 65).
Divorce was always the prerogative of the husband, never of the wife. A husband had little incentive to divorce his wife indiscriminately, however, since he stood to lose the value of his wife’s labor and reproductive capacity along with the resources she had brought into the marriage—not to mention the bride-price he had given to her father.
There were only two cases in which a man was forbidden to divorce his wife: if upon their marriage he had falsely accused her of not being a virgin (Deut 22:19) and if he had raped her before their marriage (Deut 22:29). These laws protected the interests of the woman’s father (and, incidentally, those of the woman as well).

The Song of Songs
Although the Bible sometimes refers to love between husbands and wives (e.g., Gen 24:67; 29:18–20; 1 Sam 18:28), it does not give details of their sexual relationships. Husbands “know” (Gen 4:1 NRSV) or “go in to” (Gen 29:23, 30 NRSV) their wives, thereby producing children. The one exception is the Song of Songs (also known as the Song of Solomon), a lengthy erotic dialogue between young lovers. The Song is interpreted in different ways. Since the publication of Budde’s article “Das Hohelied” in 1898, many Christians have regarded the Song as a wedding song. More recently, however, it has been argued that it resembles Egyptian love songs composed for entertainment on festive occasions (Fox, Song of Songs, 247–9). Although the Song refers to marriage (e.g., Song 3:6–11; 4:8–12), its subject is not marriage per se (Fox, Song of Songs, 232, 314). It emphasizes the lovers’ delight in each other’s bodies (4:1–7; 5:10–16; 6:4–10; 7:1–9) and their idyllic trysts (1:16–17; 2:8–17; 6:11–12; 7:10–8:5).

Marriage as a Metaphor
Israel’s prophets used marriage between man and woman as a metaphor for the relationship between God and His people. This was especially true of Hosea and Jeremiah, who prophesied against Israel’s idolatry. Both prophets compared the love of a husband for his wife with the love of God for His people. They also likened a wife’s adulterous relationship with another man to Israel’s idolatrous worship of other gods (Hos 1:2–2:23; Jer 2:1–4:4). Hosea not only made the comparisons but also lived them out by marrying a “wife of whoredom” (Hos 1:2–3 NRSV). He was optimistic that God, like a loving husband, would restore His relationship with His unfaithful people (Hos 2:14–23). Jeremiah, on the other hand, remarked that God would be within His rights to “divorce” them (Jer 3:1).
Hosea 3:1–5 introduces another comparison: the royal and religious institutions that mediate between Israel and God are like the intercourse between a husband and wife. Israel will temporarily live without these these mediators, just as the prophet’s adulterous wife must learn to live exclusively with her husband.

McWhirter, J. (2016). Marriage. In J. D. Barry, D. Bomar, D. R. Brown, R. Klippenstein, D. Mangum, C. Sinclair Wolcott, … W. Widder (Hrsg.), The Lexham Bible Dictionary. Bellingham, ================ ====================================================

Marriage in the New Testament
Marriage in the Graeco-Roman world was not much different from marriage in the ancient Near East. It still served the social function of maintaining family property and passing it down from father to son. Men held authority over their families, including wives, children, and slaves (Verner, Household, 30). However, Roman law, however, allowed both for a husband to divorce his wife and a wife to divorce her husband. Jewish law upheld only the husband’s right to divorce his wife (Deut 24:1–2). Levirate marriage and polygamy, while still legal among Jews, were not commonly practiced (Verner, Household, 46).

Jesus and Marriage
Jesus is reported to have reinterpreted three Old Testament teachings concerning marriage.

Adultery. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus addresses the law forbidding adultery (Exod 20:14 in Matt 5:27–30). Jesus extends the principle of the law so that a man who simply desires another man’s wife has already committed adultery with her.

Divorce. Jesus also reinterprets the law allowing divorce (Deut 24:1–2). Paul is the earliest New Testament writer to record this teaching (1 Cor 7:11): “the husband should not divorce his wife” (NRSV). According to Mark 10:2–9 and Matt 19:3–8, Jesus issued this ruling in a legal dispute with some Pharisees, who themselves disagreed over the interpretation of Deut 24:1–2. For Jesus, however, the precedent is not Deut 24:1–2 but God’s earlier pronouncement in Gen 2:24: “they become one flesh” (NRSV). Divorce and remarriage, therefore, lead to adultery (Mark 10:11; Matt 5:31–32; 19:9; Luke 16:18).
Paul and Mark’s Gospel book extend the prohibition of divorce to wives (1 Cor 7:10; Mark 10:12). In addition, Paul gave his opinion that a believer should not initiate divorce proceedings against an unbelieving spouse. In Paul’s view, such a marriage should end only at the initiative of the unbelieving spouse (1 Cor 7:12–16). Paul does not articulate an explicit rule for remarriage in this case.
Although Matthew, Mark, and Luke all include Jesus’ teachings on divorce, each Gospel offers a slightly different account. In Mark’s version, Jesus’ dispute with the Pharisees ends with the conclusion that people should not separate what God has joined (Mark 10:2–9). Jesus then teaches his disciples that divorce and remarriage lead to adultery (Mark 10:10–12). The fact that Mark’s account applies this rule to both men and women is significant. It not only accounts for a woman’s ability to divorce her husband, it also reinterprets the Old Testament definition of adultery. The laws in Exod 20:14; Lev 18:20; 20:10; and Deut 22:22–24 regard adultery as an offense by the adulterous couple against the woman’s husband. Mark 10:11–12, however, makes it equally possible for a husband to commit adultery against his wife.
Luke does not report Jesus’ dispute with the Pharisees. He does, however, include a version of the teaching about remarriage and adultery. In this teaching—also directed at the Pharisees—a man commits adultery either if he divorces his wife and marries another woman or if he marries a divorced woman (Luke 16:18).
Matthew’s Gospel includes two teachings on divorce. In the Sermon on the Mount (Matt 5:31–32). Jesus delivers the teaching that also appears in Luke 16:18. Later, Matthew includes the dispute with the Pharisees found in Mark (Matt 19:3–9). The ruling that a man who divorces his wife and marries another woman commits adultery, given to the disciples in Mark 10:11–12, is announced to the Pharisees in Matt 19:9. Unlike Mark, Matthew does not specify that the man commits adultery against his wife, nor does he extend the rule to women who divorce their husbands. Furthermore, Matthew adds an interesting exception to Jesus’ rule: remarriage leads to adultery unless the woman was divorced because of “unchastity (πορνεία, porneia)” (Matt 5:32; 19:9 NRSV). The interpretation hangs on the meaning of porneia, a noun that can describe various kinds of sexual deviance. If it refers to adultery, then the saying seems to allow men to divorce unfaithful wives, an exception with which one school of Pharisees would have agreed (Instone-Brewer, Divorce and Remarriage, 175). On the other hand, porneia might refer to a marriage that violates one of the laws against incest (Lev 18:1–18). Such marriages were not uncommon in the Graeco-Roman world. In that case, the teaching in Matthew permits divorce only for persons married to their close relations. Matthew’s logic can also lead to the conclusion that the husband who divorces an adulterous wife is not responsible for her adultery, because she already committed adultery before he divorced her.

Levirate Marriage. Jesus makes one brief comment on the law concerning levirate marriage (Deut 25:5–10). It does not pertain to the dead after their resurrection, he says. There is no marriage in the afterlife (Mark 12:18–25; Matt 22:23–30; Luke 20:27–35). Jesus apparently never married. In Matthew 19:10–12, He seems to advocate the single life for any of His followers who are able to remain celibate.

Paul and Marriage
Paul seems not to have married, either. Like Jesus, he advocated celibacy (1 Cor 7:8). He reasoned that if Jesus is coming again soon, believers who are able may choose not to marry and thus devote themselves fully to ministry. Their first priority is to please God (1 Cor 7:25–35). However, Paul conceded that it is not wrong to marry. In fact, those who cannot control their sexual desires should go ahead and get married (1 Cor 7:6–9, 36–38). Once they are married, a couple should have sex. They are not so spiritual that they do not need to satisfy their physical needs (1 Cor 7:1–5).

Household Codes
Codes of behavior for husbands, wives, children, and slaves are articulated in Eph 5:21–6:9; Col 3:18–4:1; and 1 Pet 2:18–3:7. These codes reflect contemporary practice in Graeco-Roman society, in which all family members were subordinate to the male head of the household. In order for Christian households to conform to the social standard, a wife is told in these codes to be subject to her husband’s authority (Eph 5:22; Col 3:18; 1 Pet 3:1). Husbands, however, are warned not to abuse this authority (Eph 5:25; Col 3:19; 1 Pet 3:7). They are to treat their wives with love, consideration, and respect. The code in Ephesians underscores these injunctions with an illustration: Christ loves and cares for the church (Eph 5:25–27, 29). He is the head of the church, and the church submits to his authority (Eph 5:23–24).

Marriage as a Metaphor
The New Testament compares the arrival of the prophesied Messiah to a wedding. Each event ends a long period of waiting. Jesus compared Himself to the bridegroom and His followers to the wedding guests in different ways:

•      Jesus explains why His disciples do not fast by saying that wedding guests celebrate by feasting (Mark 2:18–20; Matt 9:14–15; and Luke 5:33–35).
•      The parable of the Wedding Feast addresses both those who refuse God’s invitation and those who accept it but do not adhere to His standards (Matt 22:1–14).
•      The parable of the Ten Virgins suggests that Jesus’ second coming might be delayed. Therefore, His followers should be prepared (Matt 25:1–13).

John’s gospel also uses a marriage metaphor (John 3:28–30). John the Baptist likens Jesus to a bridegroom and himself to the bridegroom’s friend—Jesus is the Messiah, John is the forerunner who rejoices in the Messiah’s presence. John’s following will decrease, but Jesus will gain followers, just as a bridegroom gains children.
The analogy seems to be continued in the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman (John 4:1–42). The story reminds us of Old Testament scenes in which the meeting of a man and a woman at a well leads to a marriage (Gen 24:1–67; 29:1–20; Exod 2:15–22). Jesus and the woman do not get married, of course, but the Samaritans who now believe in Jesus increase His following, as in the Baptist’s saying (John 4:39–41; 3:30).
Paul uses a marriage metaphor in 2 Cor 11:1–3. He too portrays the Messiah (Christ) as a bridegroom and His followers (Paul’s Corinthian converts) as a bride. But Paul’s converts have been persuaded by teachings that contradict his own (2 Cor 11:4). He illustrates his anxiety by comparing the wait for Christ’s coming to a period of betrothal. Just as a father desires to keep his daughter a virgin until she is married to her husband, so Paul desires to keep his converts faithful. Their following “another Jesus” is like a betrothed daughter accepting the advances of another man.
In the visions of Revelation, the relationship between Christ and His followers is finally consummated with a wedding. The bride is clothed in fine linen, the invited guests have assembled, the bride is joined to her husband, and the marriage feast begins (Rev 19:7–9; 21:2). The community of righteous believers will finally, joyfully unite with Christ. In the meantime, the bride—the church—joins the Spirit, the author, and the audience of Revelation in saying, “Come, Lord Jesus” (Rev 22:17–20 NRSV).

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McWhirter, J. (2016). Marriage. In J. D. Barry, D. Bomar, D. R. Brown, R. Klippenstein, D. Mangum, C. Sinclair Wolcott, … W. Widder (Hrsg.), The Lexham Bible Dictionary. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press.

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