Notes
Notes
Most treatments of the land promise are embedded in works that cover much broader topics. Furthermore, broader hermeneutical issues such as the Israel–church relationship or the relationship between the covenants are brought into the picture. See e.g. works on theological systems, such as Bateman 1999; Blaising and Bock 1993; Saucy 1993; Feinberg 1988; Robertson 1980; see also works on eschatology, such as Hoekema 1979; Venema 2000; 2008.
For books on land that focus on the sociopolitical aspects of the Israel–Palestine conflict and conclude with (some) theological/ethical reflection(s), see Ateek 1989; 2008; Barclay 2004; Sizer 2007; Weber 2004; Burge 2004. For books on the relationship of land/property and ethics, see C. J. H. Wright 2004; 1990.
Von Rad 1966; see also Hanson 2005.
Brueggemann 1977; Davies 1974 and, more recently, 1982, which is a summary of his earlier work along with concluding essays by various scholars on the meaning of land and theology in the light of current events.
Carson 2000: 100. A ‘whole-Bible biblical theology’ is not merely a theology that is biblical, although it is certainly not less than this. The phrase picks up on the discipline of biblical theology, which, as Carson (ibid.) says, ‘even as it works inductively from the diverse texts of the Bible, seeks to uncover and articulate the unity of all the biblical texts taken together, resorting primarily to the categories of those text themselves’. See also Rosner 2000: 3–11. This is what James Barr (1999) calls a ‘pan-Biblical theology’.
E.g. Brueggemann (1977: 3) says, ‘Biblical faith is a pursuit of historical belonging that includes a sense of destiny derived from such a belonging.’ A similar perspective is found in Inge (2003), ch. 2.
E.g. Davies (1974: 336), after examining the NT data, says, ‘We have discovered in the New Testament, alongside the recognition of the historical role of the land as the scene of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, a growing recognition that the Christian faith is, in principle, cut loose from the land, that the Gospel demanded a breaking out of its territorial chrysalis.’
See e.g. House 1998: 197–213, 512–522; Goldingay 2003: 451–528; 2006: 438–449; Preuss 1996: 117–128; Rendtorff 2005: 220–225, 457–469; von Rad 2005: 296–305; Dumbrell 2002: 57–75. Waltke with Yu (2007: 512–587) is a notable exception that offers a more comprehensive treatment of land as it progresses from the Old to the New Testament. Two biblical theologies that also treat land within their overall schema are Kaiser 2008 (90–110), which is based in part on his earlier work (1978: 122–142), and Scobie 2003 (541–567).
See e.g. Dempster 2003; Martens 1998 (the land sections from this work were reprinted in Martens 2004); Alexander 2012; and Dumbrell 1984.
For journal articles, see Miller 1969: 451–465; Kaiser 1981: 302–312; C. J. H. Wright 1993: 153–167; for chapters in books, see Martens 2009, who organizes the land theme around the concept of metaphor; Holwerda 1995: 85–112; Robertson 2000, who presents the land theme from a covenantal perspective; and Horner 2007 (223–252), who presents the land theme from a dispensational perspective. And finally, systematic theologies have not traditionally included in their organization a locus devoted to land; although one exception is Rushdoony 1994 (957–1018).
Johnston and Walker 2000. See also Walker 1994; 1996.
E.g. dispensational, non-dispensational, covenantal and Jewish.
E.g. he spends only ten pages on the biblical heritage of land in the OT before moving on to intertestamental literature and the NT.
Gentry and Wellum 2012: 703–716.
A notable exception is Beale 2011.
Scobie 1991: 178; he repeats the same sentiment in The Ways of Our God (2003: 87). For further discussion of this topic, see Martens 1997: 57. For a bold argument for the centre of biblical theology, see J. M. Hamilton 2006a: 57–84; 2010; for a response to Hamilton, see Köstenberger 2012: 445–464.
House 2002: 276. E.g. an attempt to describe some of the major themes in Scripture has been made by Hafemann and House 2007. See also Carson (1998: 810), who in his assessment of the search for a centre concluded, ‘pursuit of a center is chimerical’. For more discussion on this topic, see related chapters in Hasel 1991; 2003.
McKenzie 1974: 24–25; see also Scobie 2003: 85.
Carson 2000: 100; Rosner 2000: 3–11.
For a survey of the various approaches to biblical theology, see Klink and Lockett 2012.
Goldsworthy 1991; 2000; Ridderbos 1962; Kline 2006; Waltke 2007; Schreiner 2013.
P. R. Williamson 2007; Dumbrell 1984; Horton 2002. There is also covenant theology, the theological system organized around the covenant. Covenant theology is traditionally traced back to Johannes Cocceius, the seventeenth-century Dutch theologian. See Van Aselt 2000. On covenant theology’s major emphases and the variations within the general system, see Golding 2004.
Bateman, Bock and Johnston 2012; Barnett 2009; Alexander 1998.
Alexander 2008; 2012; Beale 2011; 1997; 2002.
See e.g. Dempster 2003; Martens 1998.
Poythress 1991: 70. Brueggemann (1977: 3) says, ‘Land is a central, if not the central theme of biblical faith. Biblical faith is a pursuit of historical belonging that includes a sense of destiny derived from such belonging. In what follows I suggest that land may be a way of organizing biblical theology’ (emphasis original). Brueggemann may claim too much in this statement, though all would agree that land is an important theme.
Horton 2002: 19; Lints 1993: 270–274.
Lints 1993: 293–311; see also Clowney 1961: 16.
Horton 2002: 5. So also Dumbrell (2002: 9), who further explicates this idea when he says, ‘The Bible is a book about the future in light of the human failings of the past and present. In this sense the entire Bible is eschatological, since it focuses upon the ushering in of the kingdom of God, the fulfilling of the divine intention for humanity and society. In very broad terms the biblical sweep is from creation to the new creation. Yet the end is not merely a return to the beginning, for the Bible reveals a great deal more about the divine intention than what is shown at the beginning of Genesis. Regarding eschatology, we must recognize how the Bible develops its theme of God’s purpose from the beginning of Genesis to the end in Revelation.’
Ribbens 2011: 81; Hoskins 2006: 19.
Plummer 2010a: 206; emphasis original; see also 2010b: 54–61.
One view of typology is that it is only retrospective. This view has, however, been challenged to see a prospective component because of the nature of Scripture. In favour of the prospective component, Waltke with Yu (2007: 137) rightly says, ‘The Bible’s unique [divine] Authorship and unity lays the basis for eschatological typology – that is to say, God intended earlier persons, acts, and institutions to present a type or shadow or pattern of future greater fulfillment.’ It is essential in this view to tie typology to a dually authored text , for the prospective aspect of the typological connections become clearer at the epochal and canonical levels. Other advocates of prospective typology include Davidson 1981; Goldsworthy 2006: 245–257; Beale 1994: 387–404. Opponents, who favour retrospective typology only, include Baker 1994: 313–330; 2010; France 1998: 39–40. For a brief discussion on this issue, see Marshall 1988: 15–17.
Bock 1987: 49; emphasis original.
In Goppelt’s (1982: 18) seminal work on typology, he says, ‘If the antitype does not represent a heightening of the type, if it is merely a repetition of the type, then it can be called typology only in certain instances and in a limited way.’ Baker (2010: 183), however, does not see heightening between type and antitype as a necessary feature because ‘this is simply an aspect of the progression from Old Testament to New Testament’. In any case, there is a pattern of escalation or progression from type to antitype.
Seitz (2007: 228) defines intertextuality (or intratextuality) as ‘how the Bible relates to itself in its own system of cross-reference . . . it has to do with the way in which parts of the Bible and finally the two Testaments themselves relate to one another’. There are many examples of these relationships, a few of which will demonstrate a pattern in Scripture. Adam was a type of Christ who was to come, as Paul’s use of Gen. 1 – 2 in Rom. 5:12–21 makes clear. Jesus links himself with Moses, the representative prophet in the OT (John 3:14–15; 5:45–46; 6:32–35). Similarly, from Heb. 3:1–6 it is clear that Jesus is the ultimate and final prophet like Moses, spoken of in Deut. 18, for he embodies and speaks God’s Word perfectly. Other examples include Israel, in which ‘son’ language is particularly important (Hos. 11:1; Matt. 2:15); the role of leaders as prophets, priests and kings; David, to whom God promised the Messiah and eternal kingship from his line; institutions, such as the temple, Passover and the sacrificial system; and events such as the exodus, which served as a type of the greater redemption that would come in Christ. These examples are not to stand isolated from their place(s) in redemptive history. Rather, they can be fully understood only in their respective redemptive-historical contexts and placement in the canon in relation to the person and work of Christ.
See e.g. Grenz and Franke 2001.
See e.g. Feinberg 2001: 37–80; Frame 1987.
See e.g. Beale 2008; Carson and Woodbridge 1986; Woodbridge 1982; Lillback and Gaffin 2013; Frame 2010. This assumption includes the conviction that Scripture is a coherent and established canon composed of sixty-six books, which should be understood ‘as a collection of historical texts written over a long period of time, utilizing different literary forms and manifesting diverse perspectives, and as the word of God who spoke and continues to speak through its books’ (Schnabel 2000: 36).
See e.g. Ward 2009; Vanhoozer 1998; Goldsworthy 2006; Adam 2008; Carson and Woodbridge 1992; Schnabel 2000.
See e.g. Carson 2000; Rosner 2000.
See e.g. Blomberg 2000: 64–72; Carson 1992: 65–95.
Goldsworthy (2000: 53–54) aptly describes the kingdom of God as ‘God’s people in God’s place under God’s rule’. Similarly, Bruce Waltke (2001: 18) describes the kingdom in the OT when he writes, ‘A nation consists of a common people, normally sharing a common land, submissive to a common law, and having a common ruler’ (emphases mine). Debate has surrounded the nature of the kingdom (e.g. external and physical and/or internal and spiritual; reign and/or realm) and the timing of its coming. Concerning the latter, some have tried to propose that the kingdom is either fully present (i.e. ‘realized eschatology’ [see e.g. Dodd 1935]) or wholly future (i.e. ‘consistent eschatology’ [see e.g. Weiss 1971, first published in 1892; Schweitzer 1914, first published in 1901]). The position taken in this study as most consistent with the NT fulfilment of the Old is ‘inaugurated eschatology’, which allows for both a present and future, an already-but-not-yet, dimension to eschatological fulfilment. See e.g. Ladd 1959; 1998; Schreiner 2008: 39–116. For a helpful summary of the debate, see Willis 1987.
For discussion of and arguments for this traditional translation, see Wenham 1987: 11–13.
Mathews 1996: 113. In fact, God is mentioned thirty-five times in the first chapter alone.
Ibid. 113. This theocentricity, however, does not deny the crucial place of humans in creation, as will be shown below. That is, God is the centre around whom humanity orbits, deriving identity and purpose from the Creator.
John 1:1–3; 1 Cor. 15:24–28; Col. 1:16–17; Heb. 1:1–2; Rev. 22:1, 3.
The importance of humankind in the divine design does not minimize the theocentric focus of creation. Humans find their existence and role in the created order only in relation to their creator. Numerous literary links support the assertion that humanity is the crown of creation. First, the successive movement through creation follows an escalating order of significance that leads to the creation of humanity on the sixth day. Secondly, there is a noticeable change in style. This creative act is the only one that comes about through divine deliberation (‘Let us make’, in v. 26). Furthermore, v. 27 is arranged in a poetic chiasm, which highlights the fact that humans are specially created. Thirdly, the verb ‘create’ (bārā’) occurs three times in v. 27. Fourthly, humanity alone is created in the image of God. Fifthly, humanity is commanded to have dominion over creation. Sixthly, the definite article (ha) used on the number six is significant. Scholars differ on what the addition of the article precisely means, but at the very least it signifies the uniqueness of the sixth day, especially since it is the only day described as ‘very good’. Finally, the significant increase in the number of words allotted to the sixth day demonstrates that the creation of humanity is the ‘grand finale’ of creation. See Dempster 2003: 57.
Dempster 2003: 58. For an excellent survey of views in the last hundred years, see Jónsson 1988.
Carson (1996: 204–212) notes six implications of being made in the image of God: (1) The image of God can be teased out inductively, (2) humanity is important and dignified, (3) humanity is accountable before God, (4) human beings cannot escape this truth, but can only suppress or deny it, (5) the image of God in man grounds his responsibility towards the rest of creation, and (6) Adam made in the image of God anticipates the last Adam, who is the image of the invisible God.
Image/likeness and sonship come together in Gen. 5:1–3 and Luke 3:38. Concerning this connection, Dempster (2003: 58) says, ‘By juxtaposing the divine creation of Adam in the image of God and the subsequent human creation of Seth in the image of Adam, the transmission of the image of God through this genealogical line is implied, as well as the link between sonship and the image of God. As Seth is a son of Adam, so Adam is a son of God.’
This ruling function, though greatly affected, is not lost after the entrance of sin. In Num. 32:22, 29, Yahweh subdues (kābaš) Israel’s enemies so that Israel in turn will drive them out and possess the land (cf. Deut. 9:1–3). In Josh. 18:1, Israel subdues the land of Canaan before possessing it. Moreover, Israel was commanded to rule (rādâ) over their servants, though not harshly (Lev. 25:43), and Solomon had peace-encompassing dominion (rādâ) ‘over all the region west of the Euphrates from Tiphsah to Gaza, over all the kings west of the Euphrates’ (1 Kgs 4:24; cf. 4:21).
Gen. 49:10; Num. 24:17–19; Pss 72:8; 89:25, 36; 110:1–2; Zech. 9:9–10; cf. Gen. 3:15.
Exod. 19:6; Deut. 7:6; 1 Peter 2:5–9; Rev. 1:6; 5:10.
Beale (2004b: 66–79) provides multiple textual and theological reasons for this assertion. To summarize his arguments briefly, first, the same Hebrew verbal form used for God’s walking in the garden (Gen. 3:8), mithallēk (hithpael), is the same form used to describe his presence in the tabernacle (Lev. 26:12; 2 Sam. 7:6–7). Secondly, God put Adam in the garden of Eden to ‘work’ and ‘keep’ it (Gen. 2:15). When these two words appear together later in the OT, in every case they carry the same meaning and refer either to the Israelites’ serving and keeping God’s Word or, more often, to priests who serve God and guard the temple from unholy things/people entering it (Num. 3:7–8; 8:25–26; 18:5–6; 1 Chr. 23:32; Ezek. 44:14; see n. 16 above). Thirdly, the interior atmosphere of the temple was a visible reminder of a garden-like space (1 Kgs 6 – 7). Fourthly, the entrance and location of Eden, the temple and the eschatological temple or dwelling place of God bear remarkable similarities. Eden and the later sanctuaries faced and were entered from the east (Gen. 3:24; Exod. 25:18–22; 26:31; 36:35; 1 Kgs 6:23–29; 2 Chr. 3:14; Ezek. 47:1). Israel’s temple was on Mount Zion (Exod. 15:17), and the eschatological temple is to be located on a mountain (Ezek. 20:2; 43:12; Rev. 21:10). Finally, the river flowing from Eden in Gen. 2:10 is similar to the post-exilic temple (Ezek. 47:1–12) and eschatological temple (Rev. 21:1–2). Indeed, Ezekiel clearly describes the eschatological Mount Zion in ways reminiscent of Eden. Just as Adam was satisfied with every good thing God created, so in the latter days God’s people will be abundantly satisfied with his bountiful provision. See also Waltke 2001: 85; Walton 2009: 79–85.
Isa. 51:3; Ezek. 31:8–9, 16, 18; 36:35.
For ancient Near Eastern parallels to the cosmos as a city and temple, see Niehaus 2008: 83–137.
The theological doctrine of ‘the fall’ has fallen on hard times in critical scholarship. Brevard Childs (1992: 571) writes, ‘Some have seen the story as a primitive account of the effects of the growth of human civilization (Wellhausen). Others have interpreted the story as a type of parabolic explanation of human existence as one of limitation and restriction (Westermann). Finally, these chapters have been interpreted philosophically as an ontological description of frailty and finitude which is constitutive of human existence (Tillich).’ Despite these objections, says Childs (ibid.), the traditional terminology of the ‘fall’ should continue to be used because ‘both in form and function [Genesis] chapter 3 is at pains to stress the full anthropological and cosmological effects of the disobedience. The aetiological form of the curses makes clear that the events were not simply regarded as entertaining stories from the past, but rather offered a theological interpretation of man’s miserable condition, both in the world and before God. Moreover, chapters 2–3 are carefully linked literarily to the larger primeval history of Genesis (1–11), and indeed provide the key for their interpretation.’ For a thorough treatment of the doctrine of sin, see Morgan and Peterson 2013.
In contrast Christ, who is the image of God, refused to grasp after his divine position for his advantage (Phil. 2:5–11).
Debate centres on whether the text speaks of a specific offspring (singular) or offspring in general (collective), as well as who this offspring is. Collins (2006: 156) argues that the offspring should be taken as singular, for ‘in Biblical Hebrew the key signal for a singular or collective offspring is the grammatical number of pronouns that refer to the word: if the author had a specific offspring in view he would have used singular pronouns, and if he meant posterity in general, he would have used plural pronouns. In this text we have two singular pronouns that refer to the woman’s offspring, “he shall bruise . . . bruise his heel”. Thus we are entitled to join the Septuagint in seeing an individual as the referent here’ (emphases original). See also Collins 1997: 139–148; Alexander 1997: 363–367; J. M. Hamilton 2006b: 30–54.
Mathews 1996: 245. Furthermore, the imperfect verb translated ‘bruise’ is iterative. Wenham (1987: 80) comments, ‘It implies repeated attacks by both sides to injure the other. It declares lifelong mutual hostility between mankind and the serpent race.’ This promise, therefore, is eschatologically charged in that it anticipates a long struggle between good and evil, over which humanity will ultimately triumph.
As Alexander (2008: 14) explains, ‘The first earth is designed to be a divine residence, for here God intends to coexist with his people. However, the divine plan for this first earth is soon disrupted when the human couple, due to their disobedience, are driven from God’s presence. The complex story that follows centres on how the earth can once more become a dwelling place shared by God and humanity.’
I am grateful to Peter Gentry for the category of ‘kingdom through covenant’. For a more exhaustive treatment, see Gentry and Wellum 2012; Gentry 2008: 16–42; Martin 2013: 62–98.
Defining the term ‘covenant’ is debated. A covenant involves international treaties, clan/tribal alliances, personal agreements, loyalty agreements, marriage and legal contracts. For heuristic purposes, covenant will be defined as ‘an enduring agreement which defines a relationship between two parties involving a solemn, binding obligation(s) specified on the part of at least one of the parties toward the other, made by oath under threat of divine curse, and ratified by a visual ritual’ (Gentry 2008: 16; see also Lohfink and Zenger 2000: 17; Niehaus 2008: 56–62).
There has been much debate over whether a covenant exists between God and Adam/creation. A large focus of the debate centres on the use of the word ‘covenant’ (bĕrît), since it is not explicitly used in Gen. 1 – 2 and does not appear until Gen. 6. It should be noted, however, that concepts, not merely words, should be looked for in tracing themes through the canon of Scripture. In the past, the study of the Bible’s theology has sometimes been reduced to word studies, and in so doing important concepts have been overlooked and missed. The ‘word study’ method of studying the Bible’s theology has been criticized in recent days. Rosner (2000: 6) writes, ‘Word studies alone are a shaky foundation upon which to base theology. . . . Sometimes a biblical author will pursue the same concept as another author but with his own vocabulary. Concepts rather than words are a surer footing on which to base thematic study such as that involved in biblical-theological synthesis. In most cases the concept is in fact far bigger than the words normally used to refer to it, even when the words in question appear frequently.’
Niehaus 1995: 144–147; see also J. A. Thompson 1963: 2.
Dumbrell 2002: 16–19; see also Gentry 2008: 19–20; Routledge 2008: 164; Wenham 1987: 175. Contra P. R. Williamson 2007: 52–58. According to Gentry (2008: 20), ‘A careful analysis of all the usages of “covenant” shows that the expression “to establish a covenant” means something different than the expression “to cut a covenant.” ’ That is, the language ‘to cut’ describes the point of entry into a covenant, whereas ‘to confirm’ is used of ratifying a pre-existing relationship. For an exhaustive study of the usage of the term ‘covenant’ in Scripture, see Gentry and Wellum’s (2012: 717–778) lexical analysis of bĕrīt.
See e.g. P. R. Williamson 2007: 52–58.
Interestingly, while acknowledging the absence of the term ‘covenant’ in 2 Sam. 7, which is the reason why he rejects a covenant in Gen. 1 – 2, P. R. Williamson (2007: 120–121) still argues for a covenant based on the presence of covenantal concepts and terminology (e.g. loyalty, a father–son relationship, protection from enemies, promise of curse). Unfortunately, despite the presence of the same concepts, Williamson fails to see a covenantal relationship in Gen. 1 – 2.
Similarly, Niehaus (2009: 231–233) adduces multiple lines of evidence in support of an Adamic covenant: (1) the apparent conformity of narrative elements in Gen. 1:1 – 2:3 to the pattern of a second millennium BC international treaty; (2) the parallelism between Gen. 1:28 and Gen. 9:1–3; (3) by presenting God as the Creator, Gen. 1:1 also implies that he is Suzerain over all, since creator gods in the ancient Near East were understood to be universal suzerains, from whom all other heavenly and earthly authority derived; (4) the Sabbath ordinance and its root in the creation account (Exod. 20:11) and the concomitant idea that Israel is a new creation by covenant (we note that the Sabbath ordinance is also rooted in Israel’s deliverance from Egypt, parallel to the Exodus creation roots, in the renewal covenant, Deut. 5:15); (5) the covenantal terminology echoing Gen. 1 in Jer. 33:20, 25; 31:35–36; (6) there seems to be a parallelism between the first Adam (as covenant mediator) and the second Adam (as covenant mediator); (7) the parallelism of the original heaven and earth (Gen. 1:1) and the new heaven and earth (2 Peter 3:3; Rev. 21:1), the latter being a work and a result of the new covenant mediated by the second Adam; and lastly, (8) Hos. 6:7, which stands as evidence in spite of – and even because of – its ambiguity, and in spite of its many detractors. From these points, Niehaus (ibid.) concludes that ‘it should be clear that Gen 1:1–2:3 (and 2:17) and other data (e.g., Ps 47:2, Mal 1:14) display the following facts about God: he is the Creator and Great King over all in heaven and earth; he has provided good things in abundance for those he created; he made the man and woman royalty (“subdue”, “rule over”) and gave them commands; he blessed them; and he pronounced a curse on them should they disobey his commands. These facts are the essence of covenant: a Great King in authority over lesser rulers, with a historical background of doing good to them, with commands and with blessings, but also a curse in case of disobedience. These facts about the Genesis creation material are the stuff of covenant, and primordially so. Some may not want to say that they constitute a covenant, but the creation data does tell us just what, later in history, would form the constituent elements of a suzerain–vassal treaty in the ancient Near East, and of a divine–human covenant in the Bible. Such things are expressions of God’s nature, as that nature comes through to us in the creation data. We know the workman by his work (cf. Rom 1:19–20). God, then, from the beginning showed a nature that could appropriately be called covenantal, and he entered into relationships that could appropriately be called the same.’
In this context, the term ‘covenant’ (bĕrît) is met for the first time.
Dempster (2003: 55) rightly argues that the repeated phrases ‘These are the generations of’ serve as headings in the flow of Genesis which signal to the reader that God is doing something new (Gen. 2:4; 5:1; 6:9; 10:1; 11:27; 25:12; 25:19; 36:1; 37:2). They appear at key places within the story line of Genesis and indicate that the covenant Lord is not finished with his creation. Rather, as God’s image bearers he is committed to work out his new/renewed redemptive purposes for his glory. For further study on the role of the ‘toledot’ formulas in Genesis and the Pentateuch, see Thomas 2011.
Furthermore, Dumbrell (1994: 33) notes that the divine speech and command in Gen. 12:1 are structurally similar to the speech and implicit command at the beginning of creation (Gen. 1:3). Thus the call of Abram launches a biblical witness that ultimately leads to a new creation.
Exod. 3:6; cf. 2:24–25; Deut. 4:36–38; 1 Chr. 16:15–19; 2 Kgs 13:22–23.
The Davidic covenant resembles a royal grant covenant, though not perfectly. E.g. it consists of promises to David that are unconditional (e.g. God’s promise to raise up a descendant). God’s intention to fulfil this promise is repeated in the subsequent history of the Davidic kings despite many acts of disloyalty on their part (cf. 1 Kgs 11:11–13, 34–36; 15:4–5; 2 Kgs 8:19; 2 Chr. 21:7; 23:3). However, the element of a continuous, uninterrupted reign of a Davidic king is not unconditional (see 1 Chr. 28:5–6; 1 Kgs 2:2–4). This is why it is difficult to classify it merely as an unconditional covenant. Certainly, sin can bring disaster on the future offspring reigning on David’s throne, as will be seen from Solomon, his son and the future division of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah. Yet this disaster will not ultimately demolish the ‘house’ (dynasty) of David. Again, like the Abrahamic covenant, 2 Sam. 7 emphasizes the need for obedience by David and his sons, yet the foundation of the covenant is God’s unwavering faithfulness to bring about his promises. It becomes clear as the story progresses that although God makes his promises known, the precise details of how he will fulfil them will be revealed later.
See Levenson (1985: 209–217), who argues that the Mosaic and Davidic covenants are theologically compatible with, not irreconcilably opposed to, one another. Cf. Anderson 1999: 168–170.
P. R. Williamson 2007: 152–153.
According to Dumbrell (1994: 99), the newness of the new covenant is also seen in that ‘Yahweh will “cut” (i.e., initiate) a covenant. (Note that the word cut preserves the traditional language of the beginning of a covenantal arrangement.) And [Jeremiah] describes the covenant as “new,” an adjective that carries both qualitative and temporal nuances. Though the word used in the Septuagint connotes qualitative newness, perhaps we should retain both nuances in the Hebrew. That is, the new covenant, while having continuity with the past, will be both a qualitative advance upon the Sinaitic and Davidic covenants and a temporal advance in the course of salvation history.’
Wellum (2006: 142–144) is even more specific in describing the newness of the new covenant. First, he says, there are structural changes (Jer. 31:29–30). The previous covenants were structured in such a way that the leaders (e.g. prophets, priests and kings) were representatives of the people. So when the leader sinned, the people also shared in his guilt (see e.g. Achan’s sin and Israel’s corporate guilt in Josh. 7; 9:18). But now ‘everyone shall die for his own sin’ (v. 30). The point is that it will no longer be mediated through human prophets, priests and kings. Rather, each person will have direct access to God through a mediator. Secondly, there are also changes in nature. They will all know the Lord, from the least to the greatest (v. 34), for all will experience the forgiveness of sins and the law written on their hearts. This reality is different from the previous covenant promises because not everyone in the covenant was regenerate. That is, ‘not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel’ (Rom. 9:6). But in the new covenant all covenant people are regenerate because all will experience forgiveness of sins and will have new hearts regenerated by the Holy Spirit (cf. Jer. 31:33; cf. Ezek. 11:19–20; 36:26–27; Isa. 59:21). The law will be written on their hearts (cf. circumcision of the heart; Deut. 30:6; 10:16; Jer. 4:4; 9:25), and this new heart will lead them to the fear of the Lord. Moreover, they will not turn away from their God (Jer. 32:39–40). Thus the scope of the covenant has changed – everyone will have a circumcised new heart.
Jer. 31:36–40; 33:6–16; Ezek. 36:24–38; 37:11–28.
Jer. 33:9; Ezek. 36:36; 37:28; Isa. 42:6–7; 49:6; 55:3–5; 56:4–8; 66:18–24.
Classic dispensational thought often made a distinction between ‘kingdom of God’ and ‘kingdom of heaven’, but in recent years more have attributed Matthew’s use of the ‘kingdom of heaven’ as a reverential circumlocution for God such that ‘kingdom of God’ and ‘kingdom of heaven’ are functionally synonymous. However, Jonathan Pennington (2007) has shown that ‘heaven’ in Matthew is part of a highly developed discourse of heaven and earth language to highlight the tension that exists between heaven and earth, or God’s realm and ways versus humanity’s, while anticipating its eschatological resolution. This resolution will come as a result of the inauguration and consummation of the kingdom through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
In addition to the Synoptic Gospels, Schreiner (2008: 27–28, 80–95) argues that the eschatological character of the Gospel of John is expressed by ‘eternal life’ rather than ‘kingdom of God’ (e.g. John 3:16, 36; 5:24; 6:40, 47), and his emphasis on the Holy Spirit (John 7:39; 14:26; 15:26; 16:13).
A. J. Thompson 2011: 38; see also his discussion on pp. 38–48.
On the kingdom of God in Paul, see Vickers 2008: 52–67.
Bock 2001: 38; see also Hoekema 1979: 49–50.
The future tense of the verbs in both of these passages indicates that Paul is referring to the future kingdom.
Rev. 1:4; 3:21; 4 – 5; 7:9–11; 14:3; 19:4–5.
Beale and McDonough 2007: 1098.
E.g. in Revelation the self-declaration ‘I am the first and the last’ (1:17) corresponds to the divine self-declaration ‘I am the Alpha and the Omega’ (1:8), and this God-Christ pattern continues throughout the book (1:8; 1:17; 21:6; 22:13). Bauckham (1993b: 54–55) concludes, ‘A close study of this pattern can reveal the remarkable extent to which Revelation identifies Jesus Christ with God’ (see also Bauckham 2008).
Bauckham (1993b: 61) writes, ‘The worship of God by the heavenly court in chapter 4 is connected with the acknowledgement of God as the creator of all things (4:11). In chapter 5 the Lamb, Christ, who has triumphed through his death and who is seen standing on the divine throne (the probable meaning of 5:6; cf. 7:17), now becomes in turn the center of the circle of worship in heaven, receiving the obeisance of the living creatures and the elders (5:8). Then the circle expands and the myriads of angels join the living creatures and the elders in a form of worship (5:12) clearly parallel to that offered to God (4:11). Finally, the circle expands to include the whole creation in a doxology addressed to God and the Lamb together (5:13). It is important to notice how the scene is so structured that the worship of the Lamb (5:8–12) leads to the worship of God and the Lamb together (5:13). John does not wish to represent Jesus as an alternative object of worship alongside God, but as one who shares in the glory due to God. He is worthy of divine worship because his worship can be included in the worship of the one God.’
Rev. 21:24, 26; 22:2; cf. Rev. 5:9.
Gen. 12:1–3; 15:5; 17:4–6; 18:18; 22:17–18.
Gen. 17:17; Exod. 6:7; 29:45; Lev. 26:12; Num. 15:41; Deut. 29:13; 2 Sam. 7:24; Ezek. 36:28; 37:23, 27; Zech. 8:8. Furthermore, Beale and McDonough (2007: 1151) comment that ‘The reference to “inheriting” the blessings promised in the Davidic prophecy of 2 Sam. 7:14 shows a hint of further inspiration from the promise of Isa. 55:1–3, where God promises those who “thirst” (55:1) that he will make with Israel “an everlasting covenant, the sure mercies of David” (55:3).’
Köstenberger and O’Brien 2001: 28–29.
Gentry and Wellum 2012: 235. H. G. M. Williamson (1985: 7) writes, ‘It is a moot point to what extent one can speak of a nation in isolation from its territory.’
The anticipation of this resolution is reflected e.g. in God’s promise to Jacob that he will surely bring him back again (Gen. 46:4), as well as the burial of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob (Gen. 49:29 – 50:14) and Joseph (Gen. 50:24–25) in Canaan, not Egypt.
These categories have been adapted from P. R. Williamson 2000b: 15–34.
E.g. Gen. 12:7; 13:15, 17; 15:7, 18–21; 28:13, 15; 35:12; Exod. 3:8, 17; 6:8.
Cf. Exod. 20:12; 23:23–33; 34:24; Lev. 18:3, 24–27; Deut. 4:1–5, 40; 5:33; 6:18; 8:1; 11:8–32; 16:20; 18:9–14; 19:8–9; 21:23; 24:4; 25:15; 30:16; 32:47.
P. R. Williamson 2000b: 22–23.
See e.g. von Rad 1966; Weinfeld 1993; Habel 1995. For an overview and critique, see Alexander 2012: 3–110.
P. R. Williamson 2007: 89–91; Alexander 2012: 176–179.
Gentry and Wellum 2012: 279; Birch et al. 1999: 79.
Wheaton 2006: 161–162. For a similar reading, see Dumbrell 1984: 75.
Mathews 2005: 298; see also Grüneberg 2003: 228–229.
See e.g. Michael Horton (2006: 23–110), who writes, ‘The covenant with Abraham as “the father of many nations” is clearly unconditional (Gen 15), especially as interpreted in the New Testament (cf. Rom 9:6–8; Gal 3:1–29). In contrast, the Mosaic covenant is dependent on Israel’s obedience.’ It should be noted that there is debate within various theological systems over which covenants are conditional or unconditional.
Also note, though, the imperatives for Abraham to ‘look’ and ‘number’ (Gen. 15:5).
House 1998: 74. The force of the construction of this verb indicates that ‘the action of faith preceded the vocabulary of faith. That is, by virtue of his earlier obedient response to a word from God, Abram was putting his faith in Yahweh’ (V. P. Hamilton 1990: 423; cf. Mathews 2005: 166–167). See also Max Rogland (2008: 239), who argues that the wĕqatal form of the verb ‘expresses repeated activity (i.e., an “imperfect” situation) and that it would be more accurately translated “and he kept believing” rather than “and he believed” ’.
On the significance of cutting animals in two as part of covenant ritual, see Jer. 34:18. For further discussion of sacrifices in ancient Near Eastern treatises, see Weinfeld 1970: 184–203.
Blaising and Bock 1993: 133–134; emphases original.
Alexander 2000b: 770; 1997: 363–367. One can already see hermeneutical warrant for Paul to pick up on this idea when interpreted in the light of Christ (Gal. 3:16, 28–29).
E.g. Gen. 11:31; 12:5; 17:8; Exod. 6:4; Lev. 14:34; 25:38; Num. 13:2, 17.
E.g. Num. 21:24, 35; 32:39; Josh. 22:9, 13, 15, 32.
E.g. Gen. 15:18–21; Exod. 23:31–33; Num. 34:1–12; Deut. 1:7; 11:24; 34:1–4; Josh. 1:2–4.
Weinfeld 1993: ch. 3; Waldow 1974: 498.
P. R. Williamson 2000b: 20–21.
E.g. a list of ten nations is found in Gen. 15:19–21, whereas most of the other lists in the Pentateuch and former prophets contain only six nations (e.g. Exod. 3:8, 17; 23:23; 33:2; 34:11; Deut. 30:17; Josh. 9:1; Judg. 3:5). Furthermore, there are some lists that add the Girgashites, making a total of seven nations (Deut. 7:1; Josh. 3:10; 24:11), and others that have only five (Exod. 13:5; 1 Kgs 9:20). For more texts, see P. R. Williamson 2000b: 21.
E.g. there are various references to ‘this land’, ‘the land that you see’ (e.g. Gen. 12:7; 13:15), ‘the land in which they lived as sojourners’ (Exod. 6:4) and ‘the land on which you lie’ (Gen. 28:13).
See e.g. Gen. 26:34; Exod. 34:24; Num. 24:17–18; Deut. 18:8–9. P. R. Williamson 2000b: 21.
Moo 1996: 274; Schreiner 1998: 227; P. R. Williamson 2000b: 22; cf. Gentry and Wellum 2012: 258–266. This passage will be discussed in further exegetical detail in ch. 8.
E.g. Gen. 13:15; 17:8; 48:4; cf. Exod. 32:13; Josh. 14:9.
E.g. Exod. 33:14; Deut. 3:20; 12:9–10; 25:19; Josh. 1:13; Gen. 2:2–3; Exod. 20:11; Deut. 5:15; Heb. 3:7 – 4:11.
Although at one point P. R. Williamson (2000b: 27) speaks of the promise–fulfilment schema of land in terms of typology, at another point he says that it ‘speaks metaphorically of something greater’ (25). However, metaphor should be distinguished from typology. Although both make connections between two or more things, persons or events, the difference is found in how and what kind of connections are made. Paul Hoskins (2006: 19) defines typology as ‘the study which traces parallels or correspondences between incidents recorded in the Old Testament and their counterparts in the New Testament such that the latter can be seen to resemble the former in notable respects and yet to go beyond them’. He further elaborates on this definition by saying that ‘First, the “correspondences” involved in typology are drawn between “persons, events, and institutions, within the framework of salvation history.” Secondly, it is often noted that typological correspondences can already be seen in the Old Testament, especially in works of prophecy like Isaiah and Ezekiel.’ So there are identifiable historical and textual connections between the type and antitype that derive from the various texts. Furthermore, typology stresses escalation as the story line moves forward. Leonhard Goppelt (1982: 18) writes, ‘If the antitype does not represent a heightening of the type, if it is merely a repetition of the type, then it can be called typology only in certain instances and in a limited way.’ These connections show that the working out of God’s purposes are incomplete until they reach their ultimate fulfilment in Christ and his work.
Peter Enns (2000: 146–147) comments, ‘English translations routinely leave this word untranslated, perhaps for stylistic reasons. . . . The presence of “and” at the very beginning of the book is striking. Moreover, Exodus 1:1 as a whole cements the connection to Genesis: “These are the names of the sons of Israel who went to Egypt.” This verse is essentially a repetition of Genesis 46:8, which announces Israel’s journey to Egypt. The same words are now used to announce Israel’s departure from Egypt. The fact that Exodus 1:1, including “and,” repeats Genesis 46:8 indicates that the story of Israel’s departure from Egypt must be understood as a continuation of a story told in Genesis. Israel’s presence in Egypt is no product of chance. The Israelites in Egypt are to view their present suffering and oppression in the light of God’s larger, unchanging picture. God chose a people for himself and brought them down to Egypt. He will bring them out again.’
Gentry and Wellum 2012: 227; emphasis original.
Scholars have noted the problem with God’s revelation as Yahweh in Exod. 6:3. Ross Blackburn (2012: 26–28, 60–61) rightly argues that when Exod. 1:1 – 15:21 is situated canonically, what is new is an interpretation of the divine name, not the name itself. More specifically, he says (ibid.), it is ‘the revelation of the Lord as Redeemer, the God who, being supreme over all creation, is willing and able to deliver his people. . . . The name that was unknown to the patriarchs, then, was not the label, but rather the character of the Lord as the supreme redeemer, a characteristic of the Lord that Israel had not known, and could not have known apart from being delivered from bondage.’
E.g. the people complained against the Lord (ch. 11), there were sinful problems within the leadership (ch. 12), spies were sent into the land and, instead of trusting God, they feared man (ch. 13), and the people grumbled (ch. 14) and revolted (ch. 16) against Moses and Aaron. The overall progression of the narrative, then, points to the failure of Israel to keep the covenant and to the inevitability of judgment.
For more on the land as gift, see Brueggemann 1977: 45–50; Miller 1969: 451–465.
Deut. 1:25; 2:29; 3:20; 4:1, 21; 5:31; 9:6; 11:17, 31; 15:4, 7; 16:20; 17:14; 18:9; 19:1–2, 10, 14; 24:4; 25:19; 26:1–2; 27:2–3; 28:8; 32:49, 52; cf. Num. 10:29; Josh. 1:2, 11, 15.
Habel 1995: 37; C. J. H. Wright 2004: 94.
Deut. 6:10–11; cf. Exod. 19:5; Lev. 25:23; Josh. 22:19.
Deut. 4:1, 5, 14, 45; 5:31; 6:1–3; 12:1.
C. J. H. Wright 1990: 15. One can see how this plays out in the NT in places where the reality of who God’s people are in Christ ground God’s commands for them to obey. Thomas Schreiner and Ardel Caneday (2001: 26) capture this tension by stating that ‘biblical admonitions and warnings imply nothing about earning or meriting something from God. Rather, the unconditional promise grounds both the conditional promise and the conditional warning in God’s grace, for the biblical testimony is that God’s grace and love precedes [sic.] and creates all human faith and obedience (Eph. 2:10).’
Millar 1998: 55, n. 38. See e.g. Deut. 6:3; 11:9; 26:9, 15; 27:3; 31:20; cf. Exod. 3:8, 17; 13:5; 33:3; Lev. 20:24; Num. 13:27; 14:8; 16:13–14.
Waltke with Yu 2007: 512, n. 2.
See Deut. 1:25, 35; 3:25; 4:21–22; 6:18; 8:7, 10; 9:6; 11:17. This language hearkens back to God’s ‘very good’ creation in Gen. 1:31. See also Josh. 23:13, 15–16, and Num. 14:7, which also describe the land in a very similar way to Gen. 1:31.
Deut. 7:14; 28:4, 11; cf. Exod. 23:26; Lev. 26:9.
Deut. 3:18–22; 6:3; 11:9–12; 26:9, 15; 27:3; 31:20; cf. Exod. 3:8, 17; 13:5; 33:3; Lev. 20:4; Num. 13:27; 14:8; 16:13–14.
Deut. 6:3; 7:13; 8:1, 13; 13:17; 30:16. Deut. 1:10–11 asserts, ‘The LORD your God has multiplied you, and behold, you are today as numerous as the stars of heaven. May the LORD, the God of your fathers, make you a thousand times as many as you are and bless you, as he has promised you!’ This language is the same as that used in Gen. 15:5.
Beale 2005: 13; Dempster 2003: 79.
Deut. 4:40; 5:16; 12:25, 28; 22:7.
This passage is significant because, as one will see in the NT, particularly the Gospels, Jesus is presented as the resurrection and the life (John 11:25; 14:6; cf. Col. 3:4); also, in him is rest (Matt. 11:28). In other words, the life and rest that are often linked to the land will be linked in later revelation to a person, Jesus Christ. These themes will be explored in more detail in chs. 7–8.
Harris 2009: 57; McKeown 2003: 489.
Lev. 25:23–28; Num. 36:6–8; Josh. 19:51.
Deut. 4:21, 38; 15:4; 19:10; cf. Josh. 13:1–7.
Deut. 1:31; 8:5; 14:1; 32:5–6, 18–19.
Deut. 3:20; 12:9–10; 25:19; Josh. 1:13–15; 21:43–44.
Harris 2009: 57; emphases original.
I am grateful to John Meade for his insights into the connection between Sabbath and rest.
McKeown 2003: 489; cf. Beale (2004b: 116), who notes that the Promised Land ‘was to be a Garden of Eden on a grander scale’.
Josh. 13:1, 6–7; 15:63; 24:4–13. Howard (1998: 259) also lists Josh. 11:22; 14:12; 16:10; 17:12–13; 18:2–3; 19:47; 23:4–5, 7, 12–13.
P. R. Williamson 2000b: 113–114.
Howard (1998: 259) calls these parallel realities ‘a stylized summary of sorts’.
Alexander 2000a: 37; Millar 2000: 625; P. R. Williamson 2000b: 30.
Martens (1998: 117) calls them ‘degrees’ of fulfilment. See also Goldingay 2003: 516; McComiskey 1985: 46–47.
McConville (1993: 101–102) is drawing from a dissertation by H. J. Koorevar (1990). He observes that four leading words signal the basic structure of the book: (1) chs. 1–5 (‘ābar); (2) chs. 6–11 (lāqaḥ); (3) chs. 12–22 (ḥālaq); (4) chs. 23–24 (‘ābad). For others who have picked up on this work, see Dempster 2003: 126–127; Howard 1998: 358–360.
Dempster 2003: 126–127; Howard 1998: 359.
Dempster 2003: 127. See also Goldingay 2003: 512–513.
Dempster (2003: 129) insightfully notes, ‘Residence in the land will depend upon obedience, and disobedience will mean expulsion from the land, just as it was in the garden of Eden at the beginning.’
2 Sam. 7; 1 Chr. 17; cf. Pss 89; 110; 132.
Kaiser 2008: 95; cf. 1973: 135–150.
1 Kgs 4:20–25; cf. Gen. 13:16; 15:5, 18–21; 22:17.
Harris 2009: 64. See also De Vries 2004; Nelson 1987: 40.
Beale 2004b: 66–80; 2005: 7–12; Alexander 2008: 21–23; 2012: 131–132; Dumbrell 2002: 19–20; Waltke 2001: 57–75; Wenham 1994: 19.
Given the amount of prophetic literature, the following survey will primarily focus on synthesizing the three major prophets – Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel – though support from the Twelve will be given. Furthermore, more space will be devoted to Isaiah, since, according to Oswalt (1998: 3), ‘Of all the books in the OT, Isaiah is perhaps the richest. Its literary grandeur is unequaled. Its scope is unparalleled. The breadth of its view of God is unmatched. In so many ways it is a book of superlatives. Thus it is no wonder that Isaiah is the most quoted prophet in the NT, and along with Psalms and Deuteronomy, one of the most frequently cited of all OT books.’
McConville 2005: 629. In addition to this broad structure, it is also the case that these themes are repeated in sequential order within many of the prophetic books.
Pate et al. (2004: 93), who cite three major types of indictments against Israel: idolatry, social injustice and religious ritualism.
Hosea and Amos, contemporaries of Isaiah, provide commentary on a similar situation as they focus attention on the northern kingdom. In chs. 4–14, Hosea paints a prophetic picture full of doom and hope. McComiskey (1992: 57) comments, ‘The catalog of sins is imposing. Oath-taking was false and insincere, people made sworn oaths they did not intend to keep; the society was rampant with killing and theft; adultery was practiced extensively; eruptions of violence took lives with startling frequency. . . . No wonder God has a controversy with this people!’ Similarly, Amos, after pronouncing judgment on Israel’s neighbours (including Judah) with strategic and rhetorical geographical precision, then sets his sights on Israel. As C. J. H. Wright (1984: 123) says, the effect is ‘to throw a kind of geographical noose around Israel and thus to make the climactic accusation against her even more devastatingly powerful’.
Dempster 2003: 172–173; emphasis original.
Isa. 1:15–16, 19–20; 2:5–9; 3:8–9; 5:7; 1:5–6, 24–25; 2:10–11; 3:11; 5:29–30.
J. A. Thompson (1980: 343) argues that ‘this covenant’ refers to the Mosaic covenant, not the Josianic covenant, ‘which was so prominent in the minds of Jeremiah’s hearers’, for ‘the pronoun “this” points forward to vv. 4–5, which deal with the Sinaitic covenant at the beginning of Israel’s history’ (emphasis original).
See e.g. Isa. 1:16–17; Jer. 7:3; 18:11; 26:3; 35:15; Ezek. 2 – 3; 14:6; 18:30–32; cf. Amos 5:1–17; Zech. 3:1–4.
Kidner 1973: 459; see also Ross 1997: 598.
Bartholomew and Goheen 2004: 104.
Rendtorff 2005: 662; see also Davies 1974: 39; Bartholomew 2011: 82. For a proposal that explains the logical relationship between these two themes, see J. M. Hamilton 2010.
VanGemeren 1988: 299. See e.g. Isa. 1:9; 11:10–12, 16; 46:3–4; Jer. 23:1–4; 31:7–8; Joel 2:32; Mic. 2:12; 4:6–7; Zech. 8:11–13.
Schultz 2012: 354. Beale (2012a: 39–40) notes, ‘[Intertextuality’s] original meaning and its ongoing typical definition is the synchronic study of multiple linkages among texts that are not the result of authorial intent but are considered often only from the readers’ viewpoint. Accordingly, intertextuality associates at least two texts (and their contexts), which creates a new context in which to understand a text (often the earlier text); this also means that texts are open to the influence of past texts and to the contexts of present readers. According to many, intertextuality entails that the reader and the reader’s new context are what give the most meaning to these linkages. . . . In biblical studies, “intertextuality” is sometimes used to refer to the procedure by which a later biblical text refers to an earlier text, how that earlier text enhances the meaning of the later one, and how the later one creatively develops the earlier meaning. In this respect, “intertextuality” may be seen as a procedure of inner-biblical or intrabiblical exegesis, which is crucial to doing biblical theology and for understanding the relation of the OT to the NT. . . . Therefore it may be better to use the phrase “inner-biblical exegesis” or “inner-biblical allusion” instead of “intertextuality,” since the former two nomenclatures are less likely to be confused with postmodern reader-oriented approaches to interpretation, where the term “intertextuality” had its origin.’ See also Kevin Vanhoozer 1998.
Isa. 11:1–16; 35:1–10; 51:9–11; 52:11–12.
Gentry and Wellum 2012: 437–438.
The sequence of redemption is important, for it marks the fulfilment of the Abrahamic promise that through Israel the nations will be blessed (Gen. 12:1–3).
Zechariah buttresses these themes when he discloses a sanctifying fountain opened for the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem. This Davidic king shall speak peace to the nations, rule from sea to sea and from the river Euphrates to the ends of the earth, and bring reconciliation to God and his people, which includes the nations (Zech. 9 – 14; cf. 2:10–12; 8:20–23), through his death.
The result that ‘your offspring will possess the nations’ (Isa. 54:3) appears to advance the promise to Abraham that his ‘offspring shall possess the gate of his enemies’ (Gen. 22:17).
Isa. 65:13–16; cf. Gen. 12:3; 17:5; 22:18; 26:4.
Isa. 56:3–5; contrast with Deut. 23:1.
Isa. 2:1–4; 4:2–6; 9:1–16; 11:1–10.
Gentry and Wellum 2012: 467–468. See also Bartholomew 2007: 173–195.
J. A. Thompson (1980: 112–113) lists several significant passages that indicate Jeremiah’s hopeful views: ‘When [Jeremiah] purchased the field of his cousin Hanamel in Anathoth, with the Babylonians already overrunning the land having only recently lifted the siege of Jerusalem and with every prospect of renewing it, he wanted to demonstrate his faith in Yahweh’s plans for future restoration. “Thus says Yahweh of hosts the God of Israel: Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land” (32:15). Again, his letter to the exiles in Babylon (ch. 29) contains a promise that when seventy years had been completed Yahweh would visit his people and bring them back to their land and restore their fortunes. Part of that vision saw Israel seeking Yahweh with all their heart (29:10–14). Other passages appear in 31:2–6, 15–22, both of which seem to have been directed to Northern Israel, possibly from the early years of Jeremiah’s career. These views breathe a spirit of hope.’ He also lists other passages where hope for the future is expressed, though some are disputed by scholars (cf. 3:15–16; 4:9–10; 12:14–17; 16:14–15; 23:3–4, 7–8; 30:8–11, 16–24; 31:1, 7–14, 23–28, 35–40; 33:6–26).
Also see Jer. 12:14–17, which speaks of an exile, not just for Judah but also for God’s evil neighbours, ‘who touch the heritage that I have given my people Israel to inherit’ (v. 14). Astonishingly, writes Gentry and Wellum (2012: 488), ‘according to verse 15, each land and people will have a return from exile. And when all the exiles are brought home, if the nations learn from Israel to swear by the God of Israel, then they will be “built up” or established in the midst of the restored Israel. If they do not, each will be permanently eradicated as a nation’ (emphases original).
Kidner 1987: 111; emphases original.
Jer. 33:14–18; cf. Isa. 9:6–7; 11:1–10; 53:1–3.
P. R. Williamson (2007: 74) argues that this passage refers to the covenant with Noah rather than creation, when he writes, ‘While some scholars have pointed to Jeremiah 33:20–26 for further support [that Jer. 31:35–37 refers to Gen. 1 – 2], the references here to a covenant with inanimate created things seem to allude more to dimensions of the Noahic covenant reflected in Genesis 8:22–9:13 (esp. Gen. 8:22) than to an implicit “covenant with creation” in Genesis 1–3. Admittedly, the somewhat similar analogy drawn in Jeremiah 31:35–37 may indeed allude to the fixed order established at creation, although this appears to build an argument from silence.’ In response to Williamson, however, given that Gen. 1:14–16 establishes the fixed order at creation, it seems more natural not to restrict the reference to Gen. 8:22 – 9:13 (esp. Gen. 8:22) only. Moreover, if one accepts a covenant relationship with/at creation that is reaffirmed and upheld in Gen. 6 – 9, then it further confirms the reference to creation in Gen. 1 – 3.
According to Martens (1998: 302), the terms ‘build’ and ‘plant’ (e.g. Jer. 24:6) are ‘theologically colored’, for they ‘attempt to present salvation history in picturesque language and to capture the familiar tones of Yahweh’s saving acts. One should add more specifically the expression deals with land.’ The final appearance of these verbs in the prophets is found in Amos 9:11–15, which focuses on both people and place. God is going to rebuild his people, making a new humanity that includes the nations, and plant it in a new creation.
On this point Dempster (ibid. 170–172) notes, ‘Even the divided kingdom of exiles is reunited under a new leader, who is said to be “my servant David” (37:24–25; cf. 34:23–24). But he is also described as one who will come to power through relative obscurity. In a remarkable allegorical passage, a Davidic descendant is compared to a tender shoot (yōneqet) plucked from a tall tree, taken to Mount Zion and planted there to grow into a huge tree, bearing fruit and providing shade for all the birds of the forest (17:22–24). Thus all the trees of the forest (peoples of the world) will know that “I the LORD lower the tall tree and raise the low tree. I dry up the green tree and make the dry tree flourish” (17:24). Later, this “David” who will come to power is remembered for his humble origins as a shepherd (34:23); he will provide true leadership, as opposed to past leaders, who are symbolized as corrupt and destructive shepherds. Both these motifs of Davidic rule (a tender shoot and a shepherd) echo Jeremiah’s prediction of a “plant growth” from the line of David, which will bring good shepherds – justice for the nation (Jer. 23:1–8). Ezekiel states that it is during this period of time of future Davidic leadership that a covenant of shalom will bring a flourishing prosperity and fertility to the land (34:23–31), which will be a new Eden (36:35).’
Dempster 2003: 171; Beale 2004b: 350.
Taylor 2009: 270–271. Symbolism should not be equated with spiritualizing, for ‘the Lord retains his interest in the physical environment . . . and when the human race is finally reconciled to him, all of creation will reap the benefits (Rom 8:18–25)’ (Block 1998: 702).
It is beyond the scope of this chapter to provide a detailed discussion of all the allusions of Ezek. 40 – 48 in Rev. 21 – 22. Nevertheless, a brief overview is in order. Admittedly, there is some discontinuity between the visions of Ezekiel and John. Block (ibid.), for these reasons, contends that Ezekiel’s temple is not fulfilled in Rev. 21. First, the two cities have different names (‘The LORD Is There’ [Ezek. 48:35] versus ‘new Jerusalem’ [Rev. 21:2]). Secondly, Ezekiel’s city is square and composed of common stones, whereas John’s is cubic and composed of precious stones. Thirdly, Ezekiel’s temple is at the centre of everything, whereas the temple’s existence is denied in Rev. 21:22. Fourthly, Ezekiel portrays a parochially Israelite city, whereas Rev. 21 describes a cosmopolitan place of Jews and Gentiles. Fifthly, sacrificial animals are at the heart of Ezekiel’s temple, whereas the sacrificial Lamb is at the heart of John’s temple. Finally, in Ezekiel’s temple the clean and unclean are distinguished, whereas John makes no such distinction. Nevertheless, Beale (2004b: 348–353) provides a convincing response to Block’s criticisms. First, the concepts of both names are true of both cities. In fact, Rev. 21:2 develops 3:12 and recalls Ezek. 48:35, where the names are mentioned together, which actually bolsters the links between Ezekiel and John. Secondly, Ezekiel’s square and John’s cube are a matter of perspective, for both are similar in shape and John even uses the word ‘foursquare’ in 21:16, which combines Ezekiel’s vision with an allusion to the cubic shape of the holy of holies from Solomon’s temple (1 Kgs 6:20). Furthermore, Ezekiel does not comment on the kinds of stones making up the foundation and walls. Thirdly, John does not deny the temple’s existence; only its physical existence. The true temple, that is, God and the Lamb, is now central (Rev. 21:22), which comes close to the essence of Ezekiel’s temple that culminated in the Lord’s glorious presence (Ezek. 48:35). Fourthly, Ezekiel does picture Gentiles in the new Jerusalem (47:22–23), though this probably would have been understood as Gentiles who convert to the faith of Israel. Actually, Revelation depicts Jews and Gentiles who have been made one people, kingdom-priests, by the firstborn of the dead, the ruler of the kings of earth (1:5–6). Fifthly, a solution to Ezekiel’s animal sacrifices and John’s living sacrificial Lamb is a matter of perspective. In other words, Ezekiel’s vision employs language and imagery in terms that the Jews of that day would understand. This picture is not, however, a spiritualization of the promises, for the sacrifice of Christ was no doubt the physical fulfilment of the sacrificial system. Both the OT promise and the eschatological fulfilment are physical, and hence literal, but the form of the sacred containers is different. What appears in Ezekiel to be animal sacrifices, which formerly could give only incomplete and temporary covering for sin, find escalated fulfilment in Christ’s sacrifice, which provides eternal covering for sin. Therefore to say that Christ typologically fulfils Ezekiel’s sacrifices as the Lamb sacrificed for sin is not a figurative or spiritualizing use of the OT, but the eschatological reality to which the sacrificial system pointed (Heb. 8 – 10). Finally, in response to Block’s critique concerning Ezekiel’s ongoing need to distinguish between the clean and unclean, Beale’s answer is that Ezekiel depicts an inaugurated but not yet consummated eschatological temple. Paul understands the inaugurated temple described in Ezek. 37:26–28 to be the church, yet there is still the ongoing need to ‘touch no unclean thing’ (2 Cor. 6:17) and to cleanse oneself ‘from every defilement of body and spirit’ (2 Cor. 7:1; cf. 1 Cor. 6:18–19). Yet in the consummated city-temple, sin and death will be no more, neither will there be mourning nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away (Rev. 21:4). Therefore Rev. 21 – 22 further interprets the yet-future fulfilment of Ezekiel by collapsing temple, city and land into one end-time picture, and describes the fulfilment of God’s covenant promises.
Gentry and Wellum 2012: 712–713.
Ateek 2000: 209. Martens (2009: 225) broadens his count by including other words associated with land when he writes, ‘[In contrast to the OT], NT words such as gē “land,” chōra, chōrion “region,” and agros “field” are found in the NT some 325 times.’
Although each NT book contributes in its own unique way to the fulfilment of God’s promises and the inaugurated, yet not consummated, arrival of the kingdom, each book does not explicitly link this fulfilment to the Promised Land. Therefore only programmatic texts from the NT that contain clear, exegetical and theological connections will be examined. For a different approach, see Burge (2010: 39), who suggests that Matthew’s use of ‘earth’/‘land’ in 25:14–30 ‘could refer to the soil or the ground; but for some, it may refer to the land. If this is the case, it refers to the cautious, preservationist instinct in first-century Judaism to preserve the land in a world rapidly overwhelmed by pagan life. Rather than risk investments, the third servant hid his money inside the land’ (emphasis original). Burge, however, admits that this reading is speculative, for ‘such an interpretation is far from certain since it requires an allegorizing of the story that is foreign and arbitrary to the story itself. This may be an innocent account of a man putting money in the ground.’ Burge and France also argue that Jesus’ relative silence concerning, or negative view of, historically important cities such as Jerusalem justify the conclusion that ‘Jesus is the great re-arranger of the land’ (Burge 2010: 35, 41) and that Jerusalem ‘is now superseded by the kingdom of heaven’ (France 2008: 126). Although Burge and France are correct in observing a shift in focus to Jesus Christ, a better solution would be to view the ultimate fulfilment – not replacement or supersession – of the nation, land, city and temple in a consummated new (physical) city-temple-creation inhabited by an international people, which the rest of the NT confirms.
I came to this conclusion on my own when preparing a paper for a doctoral seminar on eschatology (spring 2010), but later found it substantiated in Beale (2011: 751), who writes, ‘This “two-stage fulfilment” can be termed an “installment fulfilment,” wherein the initial spiritual stage is “literal” in that the OT promise also had a literal spiritual dimension. E.g. the promise of resurrection in the OT includes a person’s spirit also being resurrected along with the body, though the NT sees this spiritual resurrection occurring first. Accordingly, the land promises and their fulfilment are a crucial part of the storyline dealing with Jesus’s resurrection as the already-not yet end-time new creation.’
There is some debate as to how this verse should be translated and how it functions in Matthew. The debate revolves around the phrase biblos geneseōs. Allison (2005: 158) points out that most translations consistently render this phrase as ‘book of genealogy’ or some equivalent. This seems simple enough until one gets into the vast amount of literature. The common views are that Matt. 1:1 introduces (1) the genealogy only (1:2–17; e.g. Hagner [1993], Nolland [2005]), (2) all of ch. 1 (e.g. Turner [2008]), (3) the infancy narrative (1:2 – 2:23; e.g. Carson [1984]), (4) the first main part of the Gospel (1:2 – 4:16), (5) the heading for the entire Gospel, and (6) a combination of all of the options listed above, which is Allison’s (2005: 158–159) view. For a good survey of these views, see Davies and Allison 2004 and Luz 2007: 69–70. After surveying the various options, Fenton (1977: 36) concludes that Matthew intended his words to have more than one evocation: ‘1:1 is telescopic: it can be extended to include more and more of what Matthew is beginning to write about. First, it can cover the genealogy which immediately covers it; then, it can refer to the account of the birth of Jesus; thirdly, it can mean “history” or “life story;” finally, it can refer to the whole new creation which begins at the conception of Jesus and will be completed at his second coming.’
Beale 2004b: 171. See also France 2007: 26–28; contra Nolland 2005: 71 and Luz 2007: 70. Beale (2004b: 171–172) may strengthen his point when he notes, ‘Perhaps, also mention of the Holy Spirit in conceiving Jesus (1:18–20) points further to him as the beginning of the new creation, just as the Spirit was mentioned in Genesis 1:2 as forming the first creation,’ though this point concerning the role of the Holy Spirit in creation is disputed.
Davies and Allison 2004: 153. This wording would certainly have a profound effect on readers familiar with the OT. France (2007: 28) writes, ‘The effect on a Jewish reader is comparable to that of John’s opening phrase, “In the beginning.” . . . The theme of the fulfilment of Scripture is signaled from the very start, and these opening words suggest that a new creation is taking place.’
The three sets of fourteen generations have generated much debate. Carson (1984: 68–69) cites several suggestions for why Matthew structured his genealogy in this way. The most common proposals are that (1) fourteen is the numerical value of David in Hebrew, (2) three sets of fourteens equals six sets of sevens, and the sequence of six sevens anticipates the seventh seven, which is understood to be the climax of history, and (3) the intentional omission of some kings and addition of others highlight the royal Davidic dimension, which finds its culmination in the coming of Jesus. In any case, the common denominator is that kingship is highlighted in a way that points to the goal of all that preceded in Israel’s history: the coming of the promised Messiah. In other words, Matthew is presenting this greater Davidic king, as will be demonstrated throughout the rest of his Gospel.
Isa. 43:16–21; 51:9–11; Jer. 16:14–15; 31:31–34; Hos. 2:14–15; 11:10–11.
Carson 1984: 92; so also France 2007: 81.
Schreiner 2008: 70–75. That Jesus himself is the locus of true Israel does not mean that God has no further purpose for ethnic Israel. What it does mean, however, is that ‘the position of God’s people in the Messianic age is determined by reference to Jesus, not race’ (Carson 1984: 93).
Ps. 37:3, 9, 11, 18, 22, 29, 34.
Contra Burge (2010: 35), who concludes that Jesus ‘reinterpreted the promises that came to those in his kingdom’. Rather, Jesus correctly interpreted the stream of texts in the OT, which progressed and escalated through time and reached their fulfilment in him and his work.
France 2007: 166–167; see also Davies: 1974: 362. Interestingly, Nolland (2005: 202) also heads in the same direction when, after affirming that the Beatitudes weigh in favour of Matthew’s intending gē to refer to Israel as the land of covenant promise, he comments, ‘This, of course, is in the first instance a judgment about imagery and not about a literal referent.’
For an extensive list of its use in Greco-Roman literature, see Derrett 1984: 51–58; see also Sim 1993: 3–12.
Turner 2008: 475. See also Nolland (2005: 799), who surveys the various uses of palingenesia in extra-biblical literature and concludes that the use of this Greek term ‘locates this material in a Hellenistic context, but the idea of a remaking of the world is well rooted in the OT (Isa 65:17; 66:22)’.
Pennington 2007: 326–327. See also Betz 1995: 128.
Others have noted the connection between Matt. 5:5 and Isa. 60:21; 61:7. See e.g. Luz 2007: 195, n. 94; Nolland 2005: 201, n. 40; France 2007: 166; Beale 2011: 757. Blomberg (1992: 20) points out that ‘the poor mourners of Isaiah 61:1–2 are also described as inheriting the earth in 61:7, at least in the LXX’. Also, notes Beale (2011: 757), ‘In the context of Isa. 60:21, the “land” refers to the “city of Zion” (v. 14), its “gates” (vv. 11, 18), and the “land” of Israel (v. 18). Isaiah 65:17–18 and 66:20–22 inextricably link end-time Jerusalem with the coming new creation. That Israel will “possess the land for ever” (in the second line of Isa. 60:21) must refer to the initial mention of the “world to come” and not merely the localized promised land.’
Gen. 2:2; Exod. 20:10–11; 31:15; 35:2. It is no coincidence that immediately following this passage is another where Jesus is shown to be greater than David and the temple, and to be Lord of the Sabbath (Matt. 12:1–14).
See also Heb. 3 – 4; Rev. 6:11; 14:13.
See e.g. Isa. 5:1–7; 27:2–6; Ps. 80:8–16; Jer. 2:21; 12:10–13; Ezek. 15:1–8; 17:1–21; Hos. 10:1–2. The OT background is strongly favoured by the majority of commentators because of the number of OT references, allusions and recurrences of the replacement/fulfilment motif. See e.g. Carson 1991: 513; Brown 1970: 669–672; Morris 1995: 593; Ridderbos 1997: 515.
Beasley-Murray 1999: 272; emphases original.
The date of this psalm is uncertain. Because the psalmist mentions ‘Israel’, ‘Ephraim’, ‘Benjamin’ and ‘Manasseh’, one view is that Israel had not yet fallen to Assyria. Another view, however, is that the post-exilic psalmist from the southern kingdom is familiar with the events of the northern kingdom and, therefore, prays that the same events will come to Judah. In either case the theme is the same, for the psalmist’s lament is for God’s restoration to come in the light of his judgment by exile.
The adverbial expression that begins Rom. 3:21–26 indicates a sharp contrast in the flow of Paul’s argument, which began in 1:18. Nyn de may indicate a logical connection (cf. 7:17), but here it most likely denotes a temporal one (cf. 6:22; 7:6). In other words, whereas God’s judging righteousness was primarily manifested under the old era (Rom. 1:18 – 3:20), his saving righteousness is now manifested in the advent of the person and work of Christ. In other words, there is now a salvation-historical shift that marks the solution to the problem revealed in 1:18 – 3:20. This solution has now been manifested ‘apart from the law’. Most commentators agree that this is a salvation-historical shift in the flow of Paul’s argument. See e.g. Cranfield 1975: 201; Dunn 1988: 164; Morris 1988: 173; Moo 1996: 221; Schreiner 1998: 180; contra Jewett 2007: 272. Also see Byrne 1996: 123, and 129, n. 21, and Murray 1965: 108, who take it as both logical and temporal but emphasize primarily the temporal. However, Carson (2004: 122) is correct in stating that this temporal contrast should not be pressed too far, as though the era under the old covenant should be characterized as only consisting of condemnation, but the era under the new covenant is one only of grace. He notes, ‘just as the portrait of God as a God of justifying grace is ratcheted up as one moves from the old covenant to the new, so the portrait of God as a God of holy wrath is ratcheted up as one moves from the old covenant to the new’. Moreover, in this very paragraph, the earlier period is characterized as the time of God’s forbearance.
In context, the ‘righteousness of God’ (dikaiosynē theou) should not be understood as God’s moral attribute of being righteous, but rather his justifying activity. So Murray 1965: 30; Morris 1988: 103; Moo 1996: 222; Schreiner 1998: 180. Furthermore, debate surrounds the meaning of this phrase. The righteousness of God is commonly understood to mean the believer’s status before God and/or God’s saving power. Also, it is viewed as either forensic (i.e. God declares one to be innocent or guilty), transformative (i.e. God makes one innocent or guilty), or both. Moo (1996: 70–71) describes three options: (1) an attribute of God; (2) status given by God; and (3) an activity of God. These positions have come to be divided into either forensic or transformative categories. Moo opts for a forensic understanding of righteousness, while Schreiner earlier opted for a both–and view in his commentary on Romans but has since changed to a forensic view. Cf. Schreiner 1998: 62–67 with Schreiner 2001: 192–217. Paul’s use of the ‘righteousness of God’ is pregnant with meaning given its usage in the OT (see e.g. Judg. 5:11; 1 Sam. 12:7; cf. Mic. 6:5; Ps. 98:2–3; Deut. 25:1; cf. 2 Sam. 15:4; 1 Kgs 8:31–32; 2 Chr. 6:23; Prov. 16:15). This phrase, in the light of its context and other places where Paul uses it, is best understood as forensic (see e.g. 1:17, 21–22; 4:3, 5–6, 9; 9:30; 10:3–4, 6; Phil. 3:9; Schreiner 2001: 203–209). It predominantly refers to God, who justifies, declares righteous and acquits the guilty, and to human beings who have this action pronounced on them (the only exception being in 1 Tim. 3:16, where Paul says that Christ was ‘vindicated by the Spirit’). In the context of Romans, this righteousness is seen as God’s ‘vindicating act of raising Christ from the dead for us’ (Seifrid 2000: 47). Seifrid also points out that ‘the biblical themes of God’s deliverance of the oppressed, his vindication of his Servant, his faithfulness to Israel and his salvation of the world are implicitly present’ (ibid). Furthermore, there are other places in Romans that help clarify Paul’s understanding and use of ‘righteousness’ (see e.g. Rom. 2:13; cf. 3:20, 24, 26, 28, 30; 4:5; 5:1; 8:33–34; see also ‘account’ or ‘reckon’ [logizomai] language: 4:3–6, 8–11, 22–24; 9:8; cf. Gal. 3:6).
The ‘law’ without the article (chōris nomou) often refers to the Mosaic covenant, which failed because of humanity’s inability to keep it (Lev. 18:26; 19:37; 20:22; Deut. 4:1–2). The adverbial phrase chōris nomou modifies pephanerōtai, which most take as another way of saying ex ergōn nomou (3:20), meaning ‘apart from doing the law’, ‘apart from the works of the law’ or modifying the law-covenant, which would reiterate the salvation-historical shift in Rom. 3:21. See e.g. Calvin 1998: 134; Murray 1965: 110; Cranfield 1975: 201; Schreiner 1998: 180. This phrase, then, emphasizes the new era inaugurated by the work of Christ in which God justifies sinners. So Schreiner 1998: 180; Moo 1996: 223; Carson 2004: 123.
There has been much debate in recent years concerning how the phrase pisteōs Iēsou Christou should be understood. Two representatives for the subjective genitive reading are Richard B. Hays (1997: 46–47) and Luke Timothy Johnson (1982: 77–90). Their most compelling arguments are (1) the subjective reading is more consistent linguistically; and (2) it makes better sense in context, namely that it avoids the redundancy of what immediately follows (i.e. ‘faith in Christ . . . to all who believe’). See also Wallace 1996: 114–116. Most scholars agree that a choice cannot be made on the basis of linguistic evidence alone. Therefore context is crucial in deciding which of these options is more faithful to the text. Schreiner (1998: 181–186) sets forth four lines of evidence in support of the objective genitive reading: ‘Paul often refers to the faith of believers, he never refers to the faith of Christ, he writes specifically of Christ as being the object of the believers’ faith, and the flow of thought in Rom. 3–4 supports the idea of faith in Christ’ (so also Moo 1996: 224–226). Furthermore, two additional arguments can be offered. First, ch. 4 follows 3:21–26, where the emphasis is not on Christ’s obedience but on Abraham’s believing. Secondly, the ‘redundancy’ of eis pantas tous pisteuontas (for all who believe) emphasizes something very important, namely the universality of God’s righteousness for all who believe, whether Jew or Gentile, ‘For there is no distinction’ (3:22b). This theme is very important for Paul in Romans (1:16; 2:10).
There has been much debate surrounding the lyt- word group. Paul can describe redemption in various ways to denote adoption (Rom. 8:23), forgiveness of trespasses (Eph. 1:7; Col. 1:14), and a ransom or price paid. This context supports the idea of a price paid. But not only does it denote a price paid; it also looks back to the deliverance of Israel from the Egyptians and of exile from the Assyrians and Babylonians. In agreement with the Gospels, then, Israel’s liberation has ultimately come through the finished work of Christ to those who believe in him (cf. Isa. 35:10; 51:11). So Schreiner 1998: 189–190; Moo 1996: 229–230; Carson 2004: 128. See also the classic works by Morris 1965: 11–64; 1983: 106–131.
Most likely en tō autou haimati modifies hilastērion, so that Christ’s blood is the means by which God’s wrath is propitiated. It is through the blood, or death, of Christ that salvation and its benefits come to the individual by faith (Rom. 5:9; Eph. 1:7; 2:13; Col. 1:20). So Schreiner 1998: 194; Moo 1996: 236–237; Murray 1965: 120–121; Morris 1965: 182.
There is debate over the meaning of propitiation (hilastērion). The most common view is that it means (1) expiation, (2) propitiation or (3) mercy seat. However, one does not have to opt for an either/or answer. The terms ‘blood’, ‘righteousness’, ‘sins’ and ‘set forth publicly’ demonstrate the expiatory, propitiatory and sacrificial aspects of Christ’s atonement. The idea of substitution is also brought into the picture since this concept was clearly in the OT and anticipated the coming Messiah (e.g. Isa. 52:13 – 53:12). Therefore the sacrifice and substitution of Christ on behalf of sinners includes both the removal of sin and the satisfaction of God’s wrath.
I take the kai joining the last two phrases (auton dikaion kai dikaiounta ton) as concessive. So Schreiner 1998: 198; Moo 1996: 242; Cranfield 1975: 213.
Moo 1996: 273–274; Schreiner 1998: 227; Murray 1965: 142.
Dunn 1988: 213. Gen. 12:7; 13:15–17; 15:7, 18; 17:6–8, 19; 22:17–18; 26:3–4; 28:13–15. See also Harris 2009: 31–103.
Schreiner 1998: 227; so also Moo 1996: 274. Contra Cranfield (1975: 239), who argues, ‘Nowhere in the OT is the promise to Abraham couched in terms at all close to to klēronomon auton einai kosmou. What is promised in the various Genesis passages is a numberless progeny, possession of the land of Canaan, and that all the nations of the earth shall be blessed (or shall bless themselves) in Abraham or his seed. But Judaism came to interpret the promise to Abraham as a much more comprehensive promise.’
So Moo 1996: 274; P. R. Williamson 2000b: 22.
On this point, Dunn (1988: 213) writes that for Paul, ‘The concept had been broadened out from Canaan to embrace the whole earth. . . . Our passage therefore is a good example of the extent to which Paul’s own thinking reflects ideas which were widespread in other strands of Jewish theology at that time (cf. Matt. 5:5; Heb. 1:2).’ Dunn (ibid.) lists Ecclesiasticus 44.21; Jubilees 17.3; 22.14; 32.19; 1 Enoch 5.7; Philo; De Somniis 1.175; De Vita Mosis 1.155; cf. 4 Ezra 6.59; Apostolic Constitutions 8.12.23; rabbinic references in Str–B, 3.209; the world to come – Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch 14.13; 51.3. See also Burge 2010: 15–24; Moo 1996: 274, n. 18. Burge (2010) argues that the dispersal of Jewish life into non-Jewish cities in the Roman Empire raised questions about the integrity of Jewish identity. How would Jewish life and identity remain intact outside the land? Burge’s answer is Israel’s commitment to their identity markers (e.g. Sabbath, dietary laws, circumcision, the temple). In other words, they were ceremonially committed to the land while separated from it. The result was a redefinition of the land, such that for many the reality of life in the land took on eschatological tones. For others, such as Philo and Josephus, the land was allegorized or completely neglected. Thus this entire redefinition of land deeply influences the formation of Christian thinking in the NT. It should be noted that this ‘redefinition’ or ‘allegorizing’ raises important methodological questions for a theology of land. E.g. how and to what extent should extra-biblical literature be consulted and incorporated into theological formulation? Although Paul was certainly familiar with the literature, what remains to be proven is what he derived from these texts that he did not derive from the OT itself. In other words, when the various texts are put together from the OT to the NT, redefining or allegorizing the land promises is unnecessary, for the OT points to Abraham’s ‘inheriting the world’, and the NT reveals both how and when it is fulfilled.
Moo 1996: 274; Schreiner 1998: 227; P. R. Williamson 2000b: 22; Hester 1968: 77–78. The same could be said of Eph. 6:2–3, ‘ “Honour your father and mother” (this is the first commandment with a promise), “that it may go well with you and that you may live long in the land.” ’ In the OT, the promise relates to a long life in the Promised Land that God gave to Israel. Does it follow, then, that Paul sees no significance in the promise to live long in the land? No. Schreiner (2001: 328–329) writes, ‘If we understand Paul’s theology, we know that the inheritance promised to Abraham has become the world (Rom 4:13). Paul does not restrict the inheritance to the land of Palestine. He understands the inheritance to refer to the future glory awaiting believers (Rom 8:17). The promise of long life in the land, in Paul’s view, relates to our heavenly inheritance. In other words, those who obey their parents will receive an eschatological reward—the inheritance promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. . . . How Paul handles the command to honor one’s parents is paradigmatic. The injunction to honor parents is fulfilled rather straightforwardly in the new covenant, but the promise to live long in the land no longer relates in the same way. The land now becomes the future world that belongs to the people of God, the heavenly Jerusalem (Gal 4:26). The land promised in the Old Testament anticipates and is fulfilled in the eschatological inheritance awaiting the people of God.’
Dunn 1988: 213; see also Davies 1974: 179.
Schreiner 1998: 437. Moo (1996: 514) notes, with the majority of commentators, that the creation (ktisis) here ‘denotes the “subhuman” creation. Like the psalmists and prophets who pictured hills, meadow, and valleys “shouting and singing together for joy” (Ps 65:12–13) and the earth ‘mourning’ (Isa 24:4; Jer 4:28; 12:4), Paul personifies the subhuman creation in order to convey to his readers a sense of the cosmic significance of both humanity’s fall into sin and believers’ restoration to glory.’ So also Schreiner 1998: 435.
Moo 2008: 101. On Paul’s idea of inheritance in the OT, Jewish background and the NT, see Hester 1968.
Ladd 1993: 450. Also see Schnackenburg 1963: 301.
Vickers (2008: 62) rightly observes that a dichotomy should not be made between Jesus, who commonly speaks of ‘entering’ the kingdom, and Paul, who speaks of ‘inheriting’ the kingdom, for (1) in the OT the Israelites both inherited and entered the land, and (2) there are examples both in the Gospels and in Paul’s letters where the typical words are not used (e.g. Matt. 25:34; 1 Thess. 2:12).
See e.g. Pao 2012: 74; Beale 2007: 841–870.
Gal. 3:26, 29; cf. 4:7; Rom. 8:17.
Tēs klēronomias is best taken as a partitive genitive, since the Spirit is the initial down payment that guarantees a much fuller set of blessings in the future. So Hoehner 2002: 243; Arnold 2010: 92.
See e.g. Ezek. 36:26–27; 37:14; Joel 2:28–30.
Webster (2009: 81–93) makes eight assertions about the Son, from pre-temporal eternity to glorification, that are ‘expansions and reiterations’ of what is contained in Jesus’ more excellent name. First, God appointed him the heir of all things (1:2). Secondly, through him God created the world (1:2). Thirdly, he is the effulgence of God’s glory (1:3). Fourthly, he bears the stamp of God’s very nature (1:3). Fifthly, he upholds all things by his powerful word (1:3). Sixthly, he made purification for sins (1:3). Seventhly, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high (1:3). And finally, he has obtained a more excellent name (1:4).
There is some textual difficulty with this verse that concerns the participle ‘joined’ (synkekerasmenous). One textual variant that agrees better with the theme of faith throughout Hebrews has ‘joined’ agreeing with the ‘word’ (tr. ‘the word/message was not joined with faith’), but the best-attested reading has the participle agreeing with ‘those/them’ (tr. ‘they [the Israelites] were not united in faith with those who listened’). The identity of those who did listen most likely includes Joshua and Caleb, although it could also extend to the faithful remnant of future generations. On either reading the point remains the same: the good news must be accompanied with faith, for only genuine faith perseveres. For further discussion, see ibid. 162; Lane 1991a: 98; contra Guthrie 1983: 112.
The present tense of eiserchometha has been taken several ways. Some view it as a true present, with the result that believers are already entering into that rest and enjoy the rest referred to in Ps. 95. See e.g. Lincoln 1982: 211–212; Lane 1991a; Bruce 1964: 73, n. 17. DeSilva (2000: 32) suggests that viewing it as a progressive or continuous present might be a better way to take it, for believers are ‘crossing the threshold into the “better promised land”, but still must “strive earnestly to enter.” ’ This option makes better sense of the already–not yet tension. Still others (e.g. O’Brien 2010: 165–166) take it as solely future, denoting the consummation of rest. If it is an eschatological rest that is in view, then Christians resting from their works parallels God’s rest. When God completed his work of creation, he rested; so his people, having completed their service on earth, will enter into his rest. However, one is not forced to accept an either/or decision so long as it is understood that there are both present and future aspects involved, which fits with the inaugurated eschatological nature of the NT.
The assumption in Heb. 4:8 that the people under Joshua did not experience rest has presented interpretative difficulties. The statement is a second-class condition that indicates ‘the assumption of an untruth (for the sake of an argument)’ (Wallace 1996: 694). The previous chapter demonstrated that under Joshua’s leadership some level of rest was experienced. Hence one solution to this apparent problem is to make a distinction in kind when it comes to the notion of rest. That is, Joshua did not give them eternal rest but rather temporal rest. However, this proposal introduces extra-biblical categories that do not arise from the text itself. Therefore the solution opted for in the present study is to make a typological distinction in the light of later revelation, especially in the light of the other typological patterns established in the OT (e.g. rest, tabernacle/temple). The type rest under Joshua anticipated its antitype, rest under Jesus, which is made clear within the book of Joshua and later in Ps. 95 and Heb. 3 – 4. Hence there is escalation in rest from the people under Joshua to the people under Christ. See Lane 1991a: 100–101; O’Brien 2010: 169–170.
Schreiner 2008: 586; Lane 1991a: 100–101; O’Brien 2010: 170.
The imperfect tense form of exedecheto emphasizes Abraham’s ‘continuous expectation’ (Lane 1991b: 351).
Ibid. 351. So also O’Brien 2010: 414.
Concerning the nature of the city, Lane (1991b: 467) comments, ‘There has been a strong tendency to interpret the notion of the heavenly city in Hebrews from the perspective of the Platonic tradition as mediated by Philo. In Philo, however, there is no concept of a heavenly city prepared by God that will be made visible in the new age. Philo concentrates on the etymology and the symbolism of the name “Jerusalem” rather than speaking of the city itself. This is the decisive difference between the Greek philosophical treatment of the heavenly city and the biblical realism that informs the formulation of this theme in Hebrews. In Hebrews the heavenly city is a transcendent reality that faithfully reflects the realism of the Jewish apocalyptic tradition as represented in 4 Ezra and 2 Apocalypse of Baruch. There is nothing abstract or contingent about this city in 12:22a, which differs fundamentally from the philosophical concept in Philo.’ So also O’Brien 2010: 484.
Witherington (2009: 435) notes, ‘[The author of Hebrews] has perhaps learned this contrast from Paul (see Galatians). It is the heavenly city, the better country that Abraham saw from afar, that they have now drawn near to. Is our author envisioning his audience being raptured into heaven, into the presence of the angels and the living God, or simply dying and going to heaven? In fact he is not. Like the author of Revelation he envisions a corporate merger of heaven and earth – or, perhaps better said, a replacement of this current world, both heavens and earth, that is wasting away, with an eternal form of heaven and earth, which when Jesus returns and the dead are raised will become heaven on earth.’
In contrast to 2 Peter (3:10–13) and Revelation (21:1), Hebrews does not explicitly mention a new heaven and a new earth. From this absence, interpreters such as Ellingworth (1993: 688) conclude that the created order with its materiality will be obliterated from existence and believers will inhabit a realm that is heavenly and non-material. Adams (2009: 137–138), however, rightly argues that the author of Hebrews looks forward to a new creation. He writes, ‘In Heb. 1:2, the Son is said to be “heir of all things” (klēronomon pantōn), which implies that at the eschaton there will be a cosmos for him to inherit. In 2:6–8, the writer cites Ps. 8:4–6, interpreting it as a statement of Christ’s (future) universal reign, in fulfilment of the destiny God intended for humanity within the created order. In Hebrews 2:5, the author in fact indicates that the ideal state of things envisioned in Ps. 8:4–6, to be fulfilled when Christ reigns supreme, will be manifested in “the coming world” (tēn oikoumenēn tēn mellousan). . . . The expectation of a new earth would fit well with the reference to “the city that is to come” (13:14; cf. 11:10). That formulation suggests a future “earthly” manifestation of the city that currently exists as a heavenly reality (12:22). In the book of Revelation, the new Jerusalem descends from heaven to take its place in the new earth (Rev. 21:9–22:5). A similar theme may be implied here. Thus, although the author does not explicitly speak of a new creation to follow the demise of the old, there is sufficient evidence to deduce that this is indeed what he expects.’ See also Laansma 2008a: 125–143; 2008b: 9–18.
This place is described in Hebrews as heaven (12:23), an eternal inheritance (9:15), a final resting place (4:11), a kingdom (12:28), a country (11:14), a city (11:10, 16; 12:22), Mount Zion (12:22), the heavenly Jerusalem (12:22; 13:14).
Most scholars agree that Peter’s recipients were mainly Gentiles. See e.g. Achtemeier 1996: 50–51; Davids 1990: 8–9; Kelly 1969: 4; Schreiner 2003: 38. E.g. they lived in ignorance (1:14) and were ’ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers’ (1:18). Moreover, Peter tells them that ’the time that is past suffices for doing what the Gentiles want to do, living in sensuality, passions, drunkenness, orgies, drinking parties, and lawless idolatry. With respect to this they are surprised when you do not join them in the same flood of debauchery, and they malign you’ (4:3–4).
Ibid. 8–9; Schreiner 2003: 51.
Achtemeier (1996: 94) comments, ’The use of the rare word anagennaō puts emphasis rather on rebegetting or begetting anew than on being born anew, although of course the subsequent new birth is assumed (e.g., 2:2). Such an emphasis on begetting anew means this phrase has less reference to baptism than has often been asserted. It points rather to the totally new and unique origins of the Christian community, beginning not merely with a new birth but with a new origin altogether. It is by reason of this total newness that Christians are aliens and exiles in the world, and the fact that the situation is due to God’s mercy indicates clearly enough that such status is to be seen as a blessing, not a curse, a point those undergoing persecution would need to hear.’
Ibid. See also Davids 1990: 52; Elliot 2000: 336.
Michaels 1988: 20; see also Davids 1990: 52.
Grudem 1988: 58; emphases original. So also Jobes 2003: 86.
Green 2008: 335. Some scholars have drawn the conclusion from 2 Peter 3:7, 10, 12 that the present creation will be completely annihilated. See e.g. Overstreet 1980: 362–365. Barber and Peterson (2012: 37–38), however, argue that this view should be rejected for several reasons. First, such an interpretation contradicts Paul (Rom. 8:20–21) and John (Rev. 22:3), who speak of the removal of the curse, not the extinction and recreation of God’s world. Secondly, Romans 8:22–23 presents humanity and creation not as annihilated, but as cleansed of sin and transformed. Thirdly, 2 Peter 3:6 says that ’the world that then existed [during the flood] was deluged with water and perished’. Perished does not speak of a literal destruction but of its cleansing through the judgment of unbelievers. In the same way, the language of burning does not entail complete destruction, but of purifying the earth by removing all wickedness. Fourthly, Peter compares the destiny of the earth and of unbelievers (3:7). The destruction of the ungodly does not mean their annihilation. Rather, it means their eternal conscious punishment (Matt. 25:41, 46; 2 Thess. 1:5–9; Rev. 20:10–15). Finally, Peter’s concern is with the purifying of sinners for the new creation, resulting in new heavens and a new earth where righteousness dwells (3:13). Hence they conclude, ’For Peter, then, the governing paradigm for the new creation is the all-pervasive perfection of the cosmos, for redemption must reach as far as the damage of sin. Furthermore, Peter, the pastor, applies his message to his hearers and to us. We should live as those who will give an account to God (2 Peter 3:10), who therefore strive for godliness (v. 12), and above all who yearn for Jesus’ return (vv. 12–13)’ (ibid.). See also Green 2008: 334; Heide 1997: 37–56; Hoekema 1979: 280–281. ’In either case,’ concludes Schreiner (2003: 392), ’it seems that we can fairly say that the future world is physical, that a new universe will be born. Believers “are looking forward” (prosdokōmen) to this world, to the day of God (3:12), to the fulfilment of God’s promises.’
Hubbard 2002: 1; emphases original.
Both Mounce (1998: 386) and Ladd (1972: 286) connect the ’water of life’ in Rev. 22:1 to Ezek. 47:1–12 and Zech. 14:8, pointing out that it describes the reign and blessing of eternal life in the age to come. Beale and McDonough (2007: 1153–1154), however, argue that it reaches farther back than these prophecies ’to the description of the primeval garden in Gen. 2:10: “a river was going forth from Eden.” In association with the first Eden’s river, the “gold, the bdellium and the onyx stone” were features around one of the river’s tributaries, which compares to the precious stones surrounding the river of Rev. 22:1 (cf. 21:18–21). The point is that God will make the end like the beginning, though the consummated garden will exist on an escalated scale in comparison to the first.’ See also Beasley-Murray 1974: 330.
D. E. Johnson (2001: 321) notes, ’The tree of life stood in the center of Eden, the garden of God (Gen 2:9), and after their foolish rebellion Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden specifically to bar them from access to the tree of life in their condition of spiritual fallenness (Gen 3:23–24). In the new heaven and earth, however, the earth’s peoples will again have access to the tree of life. The seventh and final benediction will show us how this can be: “Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they may have the right to the tree of life, and may enter the gates into the city” (Rev 22:14).’
Mounce (1998: 372) comments, ’It is interesting that most recent translations have the plural, peoples (“they shall be his peoples”), rather than the singular, people. Apparently, John modified the traditional concept (Jer. 7:23; 30:22; Hos. 2:23) and substituted a reference to the many peoples of redeemed humanity. Jesus had spoken of “other sheep that are not of this fold,” which must become part of the one flock (Jn. 10:16). It is with the redeemed peoples of all races and nationalities that God will dwell in glory. God himself will be with them, and he will be their God.’ Beale (1999: 1047) provides further OT warrant for the change to plural ’peoples’ when he points out that ’Zech. 2:10–11 anticipates Rev. 21:3 in its interpretation of the same prophecies concerning God’s final communion with his people, foreseeing an ethnic expansion of the boundaries of true Israel by identifying “many nations” as “my people,” a term always used elsewhere in the OT for Israel.’
See e.g. Ezek. 48:35; Zech. 14:20–21; Isa. 52:1; 54:2–3.
Beale 2000: 358. Beale rightly argues from the reference to Isa. 65:17 in Rev. 21:1 that it is more likely that the ’new heaven’ and ’new earth’ of 21:1 is defined by and equated with the paradisal city-temple of 21:2 and 21:9 – 22:5.
Beale 2004b: 81–82; see also Alexander 2008: 25.
Beale (ibid. 760) observes that this text is an allusion to Ps. 2:2, 8, which predicted that Israel’s Messiah would inherit the whole world in fulfilment of the original intent of Israel’s land promises.
See e.g. Bateman 1999; Feinberg 1988: 63–86; Blaising 1992: 13–34; 1993a: 9–56; Ryrie 2007; Saucy 1993.
I have adapted these points from Stephen Wellum in Gentry and Wellum 2012: 704.
Ryrie 2007: 46; Blaising 1992: 23. Feinberg (1988: 72–73) rightly notes that most theological systems, even covenant theology or systems that most allegorize the OT, distinguish Israel from the church. Therefore it is the kind of distinction that distinguishes dispensationalism. For Feinberg, ’what is distinctive of dispensational thinking is recognition’ of the four distinct senses of seed ([1] biological, ethnic, national; [2] political; [3] spiritual; [4] typological) ’as operative in both Testaments coupled with a demand that no sense (spiritually especially) is more important than any other, and that no sense cancels out the meaning and implications of the other senses. The more one emphasizes the distinctness and importance of the various senses, the more dispensational and discontinuity-oriented his system becomes, for the distinct senses necessitate speaking of Israel ethnically, politically, and spiritually, as well as speaking of the church’ (ibid.). Ware (1992: 92) defines this distinction when he writes, ’Israel and the church share theologically rich and important elements of commonality while at the same time maintaining distinct identities.’
Blaising 1993a: 21; cf. Feinberg 1988: 68. Kaiser (1981: 311) writes, ’The mark of God’s new measure of grace, not only to Israel as a nation but also to all the nations and Gentiles at large, will be Israel’s return to the land and enjoyment of it in the millennium.’ See also Ware 1992: 93–96.
Feinberg 1988: 76. See also Blaising 1993b: 132–134.
E.g. Wellum (Gentry and Wellum 2012: 117–118) contends, ’ironically . . . dispensational and covenant theology actually follow the same hermeneutic in appealing to the Old Testament, yet they do so in different areas which are central to their theological system’ (emphases original). For dispensationalism, the area of contention is the Israel–church relationship, particularly concerning the land promise. For covenant theology, the area of contention is also the Israel–church relationship, particularly the genealogical principle ’you and your children’ (ibid.).
Notable exceptions include Hoekema 1979: 274–287; Johnston and Walker 2000: 15–50; C. J. H. Wright 2004: 184–186; Beale 2011: 750–772; Storms 2013: 344–348.
Waltke with Yu 2007: 560; emphases original. Beale (2011: 769), also a non-dispensationalist, rightly criticizes this definition for sounding ’a bit too close to allegorization or undue spiritualization, even though Waltke contends that Christ has the authority to redefine the OT divine authorial intent in this manner’. In its place, Beale (ibid.) elaborates on Waltke’s definition in this way: ’that the land was a type of the new creation in that its true design was for Israel (as a corporate Adam) to be faithful and expand the land’s borders to encompass the whole earth. Since Israel failed in this, its old land still pointed to this unfulfilled universal consummated expansion into a new creation at some point in the future.’
That the church of Jesus Christ is composed of both Jew and Gentile (e.g. Galatians) does not eliminate a future salvation for ethnic Israel (Rom. 9 – 11). However, this future salvation is obtained only through faith in Jesus Christ as a surprising display of God’s faithfulness and grace.
Contrary to the notion that this fulfilment is merely ethereal or spiritual, George Ladd (1972: 275) is correct when he writes, ’Throughout the entire Bible, the ultimate destiny of God’s people is an earthly destiny.’
See e.g. Feinberg 1988: 77–83.
Ibid. 634–635. Though Feinberg’s (1988: 77) overall position more closely resembles revised dispensationalism, his view of typology is similar to progressive dispensationalism. E.g. he writes, ’Double fulfilment is necessitated by the NT’s application of the passage to the church and by maintaining the integrity of the OT’s meaning, especially in view of the unconditional nature of the promises to Israel.’
This both–and approach is tied to the inaugurated eschatology embraced by progressive dispensationalists. That is, the kingdom of God has come partially (spiritually) in the arrival of Christ, and, derivatively, his church, but the final establishment of his kingdom on earth awaits its consummation upon Christ’s final return.
This term comes from Enns 2005. While I do not accept many of Enns’s conclusions concerning the NT’s use of the OT, this particular term is helpful because it reminds the reader that Scripture has an eschatological purpose and goal that are realized in and through Christ and his work.