The River of Life

In a previous post, I reiterated the story of the Bible using the geographical imagery found within it, relating primarily to rivers, trees, and mountains. In this post, I wish to focus in more detail on what is often termed ‘the River of Life’, which, although never referred to by that exact phrase, appears throughout the Bible in one form or another. Some of the material covered here is repeated from the original post, but there are distinct insights and deeper levels of meaning to be garnered by elaborating on this fascinating symbol, which should in fact be conceived not as a symbol in the conventional sense of mere representation, but rather as a literal description of a spiritual reality.

In the very first book of the Bible, we are told that “a river flowed out of Eden to water the garden”, diving into four streams (Genesis 2:10). After the Fall, however, this life-giving water no longer seems to feature so profusely in either the physical or spiritual landscape. For example, in Genesis 13, when Abraham and Lot decide to part ways, the latter chooses the well-watered, fertile territory, leaving the former with the dry land of Canaan. With that said, in line with God’s everlasting covenant with His People, it seems that the Water of Eden could still be accessed in those times, albeit sporadically and problematically: Abraham goes on to dig a number of wells, which his son Isaac recovers in Genesis 26 after they were stopped up by the Philistines. Interestingly enough, these wells were located in Gerar, which is where Isaac, the son of promise, was conceived (see Genesis 20-21).

The use of water as a symbol for promise and covenant reappears in a different, more explicit way in Deuteronomy 8 (Verse 7), where the Hebrews are told: “the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and springs, flowing out in the valleys and hills” (cf. Psalm 36:8). Indeed, throughout the journey of the Hebrews through the desert towards this Promised Land, water sources continued to represent God’s faithfulness and grace. In Exodus 15 (Verses 22-27), for example, God makes palatable the bitter waters of Marah and then provides twelve springs of water and seventy palm trees at Elim. Two chapters later, in Exodus 17:5-6 (cf. Numbers 20:2-13), God draws forth water from the Rock of Horeb at Massah/Meribah.

While wells and springs in the Old Testament represent what we normally term ‘the Old Covenant’, it is interesting to note that they feature in God’s dealings not only with the promised son Isaac, but also with the bastard child Ishmael, conceived illegitimately and disobediently through the maidservant Hagar. In Genesis 16, God meets with Hagar in the wilderness at a spring, which becomes “the well of the Living One who sees me”, and in Chapter 21 provides another well for Hagar to nourish Ishmael. The inclusion of Ishmael in the imagery of wells points to an ‘Older’ Covenant, originally established with Noah and reiterated to Abraham, that included all people – and indeed, all of creation.

The foundational grace embodied in wells was therefore universally accessible – but only intermittently, by tapping into a latent reservoir. The Prophets (as well as the Psalmist – see, e.g., Psalm 104:10-13) thus foresaw a time when Jerusalem would become the New Eden, with the River of Life once again flowing freely and openly. Zechariah (14:8), for example, refers to a day when “living waters shall flow out of Jerusalem, half of them to the eastern sea and half of them to the western sea”, while Ezekiel (47:1-12) similarly tells of four rivers fanning out from the Temple in alternative directions, one of which transforms the land into a lush paradise. Employing a more personal register, Isaiah expands on the image of the River of Life bursting forth to irrigate a barren wilderness. It is worth observing the numerous references concerned:

• “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.” (12:3)
• “Waters break forth in the wilderness, And streams in the desert; The burning sand shall become a pool, And the thirsty ground springs of water” (35:6-7)
• “When the poor and needy seek water, And there is none, And their tongue is Parched with thirst, I the Lord will answer them; I the God of Israel will not forsake them. I will open rivers on the bare heights, And fountains in the midst of the valleys. I will make the wilderness a pool of water, And the dry land springs of water. I will put in the wilderness the cedar, The acacia, the myrtle, and the olive. I will set in the desert the cypress, The plane and the pine together ...” (41:17-20)
• “Behold, I am doing a new thing; Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness And rivers in the desert … For I give water in the wilderness, Rivers in the desert, To give drink to my chosen people, The people whom I formed for myself That they might declare my praise.” (43:19-21)
• “I will pour water on the thirsty land, And streams on the dry ground; I will pour my Spirit upon your offspring, And my blessing on your descendants. They shall spring up among the grass Like willows by flowing streams.” (44:3-4)
• “The Lord will guide you continually And satisfy your desire in scorched places And make your bones strong; And you shall be like a watered garden, Like a spring of water, Whose waters do not fail.” (58:11)
• “Behold, I will extend peace to her like a river, and the glory of the nations like an overflowing stream” (66:12)

From the Isaiah 44 passage, we learn that the River of Life is an illustration or embodiment of the Holy Spirit, which is of course a key part of God's Promise. The prophet Joel reiterates this: while echoing Ezekiel and Zechariah by foretelling of a time when “all the streambeds of Judah Shall flow with water” and when “a fountain shall come forth from the house of the Lord And water the Valley of Shittim” (3:18) – itself a highly symbolic reference – he includes the prediction that God will “pour out [His] Spirit” (2:28-29). However, while Isaiah mentions the Promise of the Spirit in the context of one particular lineage (or "offspring"), Joel informs us that the Spirit, though emanating from a spiritual Jerusalem, will in fact be poured out "on all flesh" (ibid.). The prophecy of Jerusalem-as-Eden therefore depicts the fulfilment of the Covenant that is normally associated with Isaac but in fact extended to Ishmael and beyond.

This fulfilment, of course, arrives with Jesus Christ. In the Gospel of John (4:14), Jesus pronounces of Himself: “whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” Some three chapters later (7:37-39), He elaborates on this message: “On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, ‘If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, “Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water”’.” The passage goes on to inform us that “He said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive”.

Just as the River of Life springs from Eden/Jerusalem to flow East and West, so too it springs from Christ and flows through both Old and New Testaments. Indeed, it is impossible to resist seeing in the four rivers of Eden/Jerusalem a picture of the Cross, from which our life is restored. Christ gives us the source of life itself – that is, He gives us Himself, who is the Life (John 11:25; 14:6). He is the Rock of Horeb, as we are told in 1 Corinthians 10:4 (cf. Psalm 78:16), for it is through Him that God’s promises are fulfilled. He is the Well of the Living One and the well of salvation, for it through Him that we experience the grace of eternal life. He is the spring in the wilderness, the overflowing stream, and the fountain of living water, for it is through Him that we receive the Holy Spirit (cf. Acts 2:16-21) and are thus created anew. He is the River of Eden and Jerusalem, for He is the Firstborn of All Creation and the Heavenly Temple (Colossians 1:15; John 2:18-22)

Speaking of which, the book of Revelation (22:1-2) tells us that the story is not yet finished: in the New Jerusalem, “the river of the water of life flow[s] from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city” (cf. Psalm 46:4). One day, when Heaven and Earth are reunited, the River of Life that issues from Eden, Jerusalem, and ultimately Christ – the same River that flows through us, renews us, and recreates us – will encompass all of creation, making all things new (Revelation 21:5). On that day, we will thirst no longer (7:16), for He Himself will “guide [us] to springs of living water” (7:17), from which we will imbibe “without payment” (21:6; cf. 22:17).

The picture painted in Revelation indicates a significant property of water, namely that it is necessary for life – not only in a physical sense (Song of Songs 29:27; 39:31), but also in a spiritual sense. That is why we thirst for the living water (Psalm 42:1). As established by many of the passages that we’ve surveyed, moreover, God is the source of this water. Life has to begin somewhere, and just as Mary was impregnated by the Holy Spirit, we too are filled with new life, which comes directly from God in abundance (John 10:10; Psalm 36:8-9; 65:9; 104:16). By contrast, the rivers of the world are bitter, poisoned, and fruitless, and eventually dry up (Jeremiah 2:18-19; 8:14; 9:15; 23:25; 50:38; Exodus 15; Deuteronomy 29:18; 2 Kings 2:19-22). Those who reject Christ will therefore die of thirst (see, e.g., Ezekiel 29:10; 30:12; 31; 32:6; Isaiah 8:5-8; 19:5-8; 34:9; 50:2; Psalm 74:15; 78:44; Revelation 16:4,12).

To be sure, God is able to make even the bitter waters sweet; indeed, in a way, this is the transformative power of the Cross. We have already referred the miracle at Marah, whereby Moses throws a "log" - clearly a type of Cross - into the bitter pool to make it potable (Exodus 15:22-27). Elisha performs a similar feat on two occasions, once by adding salt (2 Kings 2:19-22), and once by adding flour (2 Kings 4:38-41) - again, obvious allusions to Christ. These events also reveal that the transformation from bitter to sweet necessarily produces fruit: directly after the Marah episode, the Hebrews stumble across the palm trees at Elim; similarly, directly after Elisha purifies a deadly stew at Gilgal in 2 Kings Chapter 4, a mystery man appears bringing the "bread of the firstfruits". The same image emerges from many of the passages we have already studied, with trees of life budding on the banks of the River (cf. Psalm 1:3; 107:33-38). From Galatians 5 (Verses 22-23), we know what form this fruit should take in our own lives: "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control".

As the John 7 passage makes clear, however, if we are to bear such fruit the Spirit must flow - not only within us, but also from us (cf. Proverbs 4:23). Although he who has the Spirit will never thirst, and will one day be fully satiated, it is possible to “quench the Spirit” (1 Thessalonians 5:19) – to obstruct its natural course by channeling it into neat, manageable reservoirs which however become stagnant and dry. This point is clearly explicated in the book of Jeremiah, Chapter 2. On the one hand, God restates that it is “bitter” to “forsake” Him by drinking from the tainted waters of the world (Verses 18-19). He emphasises, however, that His people have actually “committed two evils” – in addition to ”forsak[ing] … the fountain of living waters”, they have “hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water” (Verse 13). Thus, if we do not let the Spirit flow out of us, we will not be filled with the Spirit. Conversely, as Proverbs 11:25 puts it, “he who waters will himself be watered” (cf. Proverbs 10:11, 18:4).

The River of Life, long concealed underground, is now freely and universally available. By watering the barren wilderness of our souls, it changes us from within, gushes out of us, and will one day flow through all levels of reality. It is, in a way, a mirror image of the great flood of Genesis. Indeed, it seems no coincidence that it was with Noah that the Ancient Covenant was first issued. Nor does it seem a coincidence that God painted a rainbow in the sky after that terrible judgement, since we are told in Revelation Chapter 4 (Verse 3) that a rainbow - but this time a full, circular rainbow as opposed to the incomplete semi-circles that we normally observe - encompasses the Throne of God.

On that note, it seems apt to conclude this post with two passages to which I seem to constantly return in both this blog and own devotions. The first is from the 'beloved' chapter of 1 Corinthians 13 and the second is from my personal favourite, Romans 8:

"...now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known." (1 Corinthians 13:12)

"...the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons..." (Romans 8:22-23)

Literal vs. Symbolic: a False Dichotomy

Should we interpret the entire Bible literally, or are certain parts (or is all of it, for that matter) merely symbolic[1]? In this post, I would like to explain why I think this question, which has caused schisms within Christianity since time immemorial, is misguided, and indeed, misleading. The central argument is that, when we are dealing with the collision of natural and supernatural, physical and spiritual, human and divine – which, to my mind, is the essence of the entire Bible – it makes little sense to talk about whether a given passage is intended to be ‘literal’ or ‘symbolic’. In such a context, this is a false dichotomy, since symbols and the like are the most literal descriptors of reality available to us in human language and human understanding; and conversely, the literal world symbolically reflects the spiritual.

The Bible starts with the creation of the universe, and that seems like a perfect topic with which to open this post. One of the most asinine debates in theology, in my opinion, is whether the seven days of creation consisted of a ‘literal’ seven days. Those who answer in the negative point out that the first chapter of Genesis is patently structured as a poem, and should be read accordingly – that is, figuratively. Those who answer in the affirmative exclaim that the Bible says seven days, so it must be seven actual days, and to say otherwise is tantamount to altering the Bible. I agree – with both sides.

How can I maintain such a position, you ask? Well, to answer that question, I would pose a question of my own: do you realise that there is no such thing as a ‘literal’ day, at least in the sense that most people conceive it[2]? Despite what our intuition and experiences would suggest, time itself is relative[3]. This cosmological fact, discovered by Einstein himself[4], is a favourite topic of science fiction; in the recent movie Interstellar, for example, a ‘day’ for the astronauts exploring distant galaxies is equivalent to years for people on earth. Does this sound familiar? It should if you are at all familiar with the theological debate in question, for those advocating a non-literal seven days often invoke 2 Peter 3:8, which reads, “with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day”. Now, this verse is clearly indicating that God is not subject to physical time; but what’s interesting is that, since God is everywhere in the universe at once, it is valid even when discussing physical time. Fact and fiction, physical and spiritual, literal and symbolic, cannot be so easily separated.

And how could it be any other way? After all, we are dealing with the creation of the physical by the spiritual. How could you describe such an event more accurately – more literally – than with poetry? It’s impossible to explain scientifically, since matter itself – the subject of science – is being created; indeed, innumerable scientific laws are being broken, because they are themselves coming into existence! In any case, whether or not the seven days of creation consisted of a 'literal' seven days is completely besides the point, which is that God has established the seven-day period as a divine pattern, built in to the very fabric of life. Seven is the Biblical number of completeness and perfection, repeated throughout the scriptures, particularly in Revelation. Of course, we know that the Sabbath was ordained in accordance with this pattern (Exodus 20:11), which, like everything else, Jesus redeems for us (Hebrews 3:7-4:13).

This point can be generalised – haven’t you found that artists are often capable of capturing some deep truth more precisely than could be done using ‘literal’ language (I am loath to use terms such as ‘logical’, ‘scientific’, ‘rational’, or ‘factual’ here, since my point is precisely that seemingly non-literal imagery can contain precisely those qualities)? The Bible is full of such truths, since it is essentially a story about Heaven on Earth. Indeed, at the time of creation, there was no separation between worldly and divine, since everything was good; it was only with the Fall that such a separation came into being, and it is only the context of such separation that the literal-vs-symbolic dichotomy makes any sense. The remainder of the Bible, moreover, tells of how this separation has been, is being, and will be eradicated.

To insist on an earthly interpretation is not, therefore, to remain loyal to scripture, as proponents of this view claim; on the contrary, it is to detract from the mind-blowing, fundamental, heavenly nature of the subject matter in question. At the same time, however, those who take a postmodern approach to the Bible are completely missing the point, and are likewise devaluing the power of God. Every word of the Bible is true (2 Timothy 3:16; 2 Peter 1:21), and is so in the most absolute sense (Isaiah 40:8; 1 Peter 1:22-25); in other words, there is such a thing as an incorrect interpretation, and for that matter, a false teaching.

Here we reach the crux of the argument, which both sides of the literal-symbolic divide miss: just because something is symbolic (be it in the form of image, allegory, or whatever) does not make it any less true, or even less literal; on the contrary, heavenly truths are most literally explained using such symbolism – at least within the confines of our understanding and language. Indeed, I think this is what the Apostle Paul is getting at when he speaks of “the Spirit himself interced[ing] for us with groanings too deep for words” (Romans 8:26), for, as he (Paul or the Spirit, take your pick) puts it elsewhere, “now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12). The redeemed spirit within us testifies to a heavenly reality, which we cannot however fully comprehend or express. Indeed, Paul picks up on this same theme earlier in 1 Corinthians (Chapter 2), when he speaks of the “interpreting” and “imparting” the “spiritual truths” that have been “revealed to us” – that is, the “secret and hidden wisdom of God, which God decreed before the age” – using “words not taught by human wisdom”.

Furthermore, while I have thus far argued that the symbolic can be literal, it is also the case that the literal can be symbolic, for precisely the same reasons. Take the Temple, for example, which contained the Presence of God on Earth. It was designed according to rigorous specifications; and yet we learn in various places (Ezekiel 40-48; Zechariah 2; Revelation 21-22) that these physical specifications reflect those of the Heavenly Temple. As it says in Revelation 21:17, the "human measurement [of the Temple]...is also also an angel's measurement". Similar points could be made with regard to many of the Bible's prophecies. Whenever Heaven and Earth collide, the distinction between literal and symbolic fades.

I think that the treatment of scripture suggested here would help us to reconcile apparent paradoxes in the Bible – not in the sense of ‘resolving’ them, but rather in acknowledging them as potent forms of symbolic meaning. Indeed, the aforementioned chapter in Romans describes precisely such a paradox, whereby the redemption of creation is simultaneously complete in Christ’s sacrifice and incomplete until His Second Coming. This is not a contradiction, since it can be rationalised; but it is a paradox, and indeed, it is the paradoxical aspect that provides the rationalisation. The chapter is essentially indicating that Heaven and Earth have not yet been (re-)married; they are engaged, to be sure, but the Bride has not yet been presented to the Bridegroom, and the two will not be made one until the wedding is consummated. As it says in Revelation 22 – the very chapter that sternly warns against adding or taking away from the Word of God – that day is coming soon. And on that day, when the separation between worldly and divine is forever abolished, the 'literalness' of symbolic interpretations will surely be made manifest.

Notes:

[1] I choose the term ‘symbolic’ over ‘metaphorical’, because the former generally denotes a stand-in for a more complex or abstract reality while the latter generally denotes a comparison of two discrete objects, and it is the former denotation that I think is apposite.

[2] I am no physicist; please excuse this layman’s version of cosmology, and please excuse any errors.

[3] A creation literalist might retort that the Bible was obviously referring to an ‘earth day’; but such a period of time is defined as a full rotation of the earth, the latter of which – along with the rest of the universe – was still in the process of being creation. It makes no sense to speak of ‘twenty-four hours’ when the very universe by which such hours are defined did not yet exist.

[4] I actually find it interesting that the first thing God created was light, which is precisely what Einstein treated as an absolute.

Cosmological Dilemmas

We cannot really grasp either mortality or immortality. On the one hand, it seems inconceivable that one day we may cease to exist – that the consciousness which makes us who we are would one day come to an end. On the other hand, it is equally inconceivable that we may exist forever. Imagine knowing that you will live, not just for a long time, but for eternity. Both prospects are incomprehensible, and, in a way, frightening.

Nor can we really grasp either theism or atheism. On the one hand, the physical universe cannot have had come into existence unless an ‘uncaused cause’ – that is, God – existed beforehand to create it. On the other hand, it is equally difficult to get our heads around such a being. We are inclined to ask: ‘Why does He exist, and is He the way He is?’ Whether there is a God or not, existence appears maddeningly arbitrary.

There is no way around these conundrums, which is what makes them so intriguing and so compelling. Either we live forever, or we don’t. Either there is a God, or there isn’t. Either way, existence is a mysterious thing. When we ponder these questions, it is as if our minds come up against some kind of metaphysical force-field, beyond which they cannot go.

I believe that these ‘cosmological dilemmas’ really attest to our status as beings created in God’s image yet residing in a physical, finite, and fallen world. I suspect that one day, when we are fully adopted as sons and all things are made new, this will become clear.

Heaven on Earth

The phrase ‘Heaven on earth’ is usually uttered in a secular context to denote bliss or utopia. Indeed, unwittingly retaining a sort of Gnostic paradigm, many if not most Christians seem to find the phrase to be somehow offensive, or even blasphemous – how can Heaven be on earth, when the former is holy and the latter wicked? This state of affairs is peculiar, since the Bible as I see it is essentially a story about – you guessed it – Heaven on Earth.

The theme is introduced in the very first verse of the Bible: “in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth”. In the creation process, there is no distinction between natural and supernatural; nature is brought into existence through super-nature. The substance of Genesis, in turn, is echoed in the book of Revelation, where we see a New Jerusalem descending from Heaven to Earth. In between the beginning and the end, we have the life of Jesus himself, who came from Heaven to dwell in earthly form, descending into the bosom of the earth, and then ascended back to Heaven.

On either chronological side of Jesus, we see more hints of Heaven colliding with earth. In the Old Testament, there is the Jewish temple/tabernacle, which contained the presence of God on earth. Heaven and earth have been torn asunder thanks to sin, but nevertheless we see a remnant of the divine remaining amongst the profane. In the New Testament, we ourselves have become the temple, with the Holy Spirit dwelling within us. Although we still await the time when Heaven and earth will be reunited, spiritually speaking we are already there.

The Lord’s Prayer, which is directed to “our Father in Heaven”, contains the curious phrase, “Your Kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven”. Clearly, Jesus thought that Heaven-on-earth was an important agenda – one which He came to set, and which he wanted us to continue pursuing.

The Old, New, and Ancient Covenants

It is common for Christians to speak about two covenants in the Bible, namely the so-called ‘Old’ and ‘New’ Covenants. In this post, I would like to suggest that this list is not exhaustive. I will argue, firstly, that a covenant of sorts existed before the ‘Old’ Mosaic Covenant, with Adam, Noah, and Abraham as its representatives, and secondly, that the ‘New’ Covenant is actually a return to this ‘Ancient’ Covenant. Finally, since I am already on the subject, I will show how all of these covenants point to Jesus.

The so-called ‘Old’ Covenant, as I’m sure the reader will be aware, was given to Moses in the book of Exodus. Its precise starting point is unclear, but it is Chapter 15 verses 25-26 where God first issues the sort of conditional promise that characterises this covenant: “…the LORD made for them a statute and a rule, and there he tested them, saying, ‘If you will diligently listen to the voice of the If you will diligently listen to the voice of the LORD your God, and do that which is right in his eyes, and give ear to his commandments and keep all his statutes, I will put none of the diseases on you that I put on the Egyptians, for I am the LORD, your healer.’” From this point all the way through the books of Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, a seemingly endless body of rules and regulations – the so-called ‘Law’ – is established. The gist of Exodus 15 is reiterated over and over again in these passages – if the Israelites obey the Law, God will bless them.

The Bible clearly states that the Law could make no one righteous – that is to say, it could “justify” no one – for no one could obey it ‘to the letter’ (Romans 3:20; Galatians 2:15, 3:11; Hebrews 10:1); rather, it acted as a mirror to show us the need for a saviour (Romans 7:7). This saviour was Jesus, who came to fulfil the Law by living a perfect life, and so, through our faith in His sacrifice, rather than our obedience to the Law, make us righteous before God (e.g. Matthew 5:17; Romans 3, 8:3; Galatians 2:21; 2 Corinthians 5:21; 1 John 5:4; Hebrews 10; Ephesians 2) – the New Covenant, which is not just for Israel, but for all of humankind. I would also point out that the Law did not only point ahead to Christ; in fact, Christ was in the picture even before the Law is given, all the way back in Exodus 15. Near the end of the chapter, the Israelites start to complain to Moses that they have no water to drink, for the waters at Marah were bitter (verses 23-4). God then shows Moses a log, which he lobs into the water, making it sweet (verse 25). It is immediately after this miracle, which manifestly alludes to the cross of Christ, where we find the first reference to the Law (verse 26). Furthermore, when comparing Jesus and His covenant to Moses and his covenant, the book of Hebrews - which explicitly uses the terminology of the 'Old' and 'New' Covenants - cites Psalm 95 to refer to the episode where the Jews test God by demanding water at Massah/Meribah, two chapters later in Exodus. As you probably know, Moses addresses this situation by bring forth water from the Rock of Horeb, which in 1 Corinthians 10:4 we are told is a metaphor to Christ.

The New Covenant is obviously not the end of the story, for we are waiting for the New Heavens and the New Earth (Revelation 21) and our adoption as glorified sons (Romans 8:18-25); but neither, I would submit, is the Old Covenant the beginning of the story. In Genesis 12 verses 2-3, God promises Abraham: “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonours you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” We are given some invaluable information about this Abrahamic covenant in Galatians 3 (see also the book of Hebrews), which quotes multiple scriptures from Genesis: “Abraham ‘believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness’. Know then that it is those of faith who are the sons of Abraham.  And the Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, preached the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, ‘In you shall all the nations be blessed.’ So then, those who are of faith are blessed along with Abraham, the man of faith…so that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promised Spirit through faith…And if you are Christ's, then you are Abraham's offspring, heirs according to promise.” In other words, Paul tells us that the New Covenant is actually a fulfilment not only of the so-called Old Covenant, but also of the promise that God made to Abraham – not just in the sense that Christ was Abraham’s descendant (verse 16), but also in the sense that, just as Abraham was made righteous by his faith, so are we. This makes sense, since God's promise to Abraham was articulated in a future tense ("I will establish my covenant between me and you and your offspring") as an "everlasting covenant" (Genesis 17:7).

Furthermore, just as the New Covenant is for all peoples, so too the Abrahamic Covenant was for "all the nations", for the distinction between Jew, Gentile, and anyone else had not yet been made. Indeed, the next chapter of Galatians (verse 22-31) emphasises that the promise was made before Isaac and Ishmael were born; we are told that Hagar the slave embodied the Old Covenant while the New Covenant was represented by the promise of Isaac. Although Galatians makes clear that Abraham was a man of faith, his faith clearly lapsed when he took matters into his own hands by going in Hagar, disbelieving God’s promise that Sarah would became pregnant at an old age (Genesis 16). It would appear that the Law, which acted as placeholder until the Messiah came (Galatians 3:24), was the eventual result of this act. Indeed, there is a striking parallel here to the Massah/Meribah episode, where Moses attempted to take things into his own hands by twice striking the Rock of Horeb - an act which eventually disqualified him from entering the Promised Land (Numbers 20:12). In this vein, we can also observe that, just as Christ was there when the Old Covenant came into existence, so He was there during the Abrahamic promise.

In the second half of Genesis 14, after Abraham wins an important battle, we are told of an elusive figure named Melchizedek of Salem who held the status of “priest of the God Most High”; in Hebrews 7 verse 3 we are further told that he was “without father or mother or genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life…resembling the Son of God.” This Christ-like priest, whose name significantly meant “King of Righteousness”, and whose place of origin (Salem, or peace) is a precursor of sorts to the city of Jerusalem, and eventually the New Jerusalem - blesses Abraham. As Hebrews 7 makes clear, the priesthood of Christ that we now inherit is a continuation of Melchizedek’s priestly line – as opposed to Levitical lineage of the Old Covenant – and thus a continuation of the Abrahamic Covenant. This latter covenant, moreover, is based on righteousness through faith, and the fact that it originated with Melchizedek, who did not belong to any ethnic group, underscores its universal nature (indeed, it is interesting to note in this respect that, since Jesus was divinely conceived, he didn't really belong to any ethnic group either). 

In fact, we can trace God’s promise to Abraham even further back in the Bible. In Genesis 9, where God draws a rainbow to symbolise his promise to Noah that he will never again judge the world through a flood – another clear picture of Christ, which evokes the transformation of the waters of Marah, Abraham’s victory in battle, and of course the Cross itself – God tells Noah the following: “Behold, I establish my covenant with you and your offspring after you, and with every living creature that is with you…I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of the flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth…This the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations…” (Genesis 9:9-12, emphasis added). The parallel to the Abrahamic promise is obvious. You will recall, moreover, that Noah and his family are the only people on earth at this time, meaning that a promise to Noah's offspring is a promise to everyone.

The promise to Noah, in turn, links to a yet older promise. In the first verse of Genesis 9, we read that “God blessed Noah and his sons and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth.’” This should sound familiar; indeed, in the very first book of the Bible (verse 28), this verse is repeatedly virtually verbatim: ““And God blessed [Adam and Eve]. And God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth…’”. This was the original promise, the original covenant - for the blessings of God to be freely available for all peoples. In fact, all of this is encapsulated in the book of Hebrews, which shows how Christ has been in the picture since "the foundation of the world" (4:3), explaining how the New Covenant relates to Noah, Abraham, Moses, and other Old-Testament figures, with Jesus coming to reestablish the divine rest of the seventh day of creation, reiterated through the provision of manna (Chapter 3).

In short, the New Covenant of Christ not only fulfils the Law of righteousness-through-works, but it brings us back to the Abrahamic promise of righteousness-through-faith, which is in turn a continuation of the blessings given to Noah and Adam. A beautiful picture indeed! 

God Is in the Details: the Significance of the Brook of Kidron

Introduction
I've written before on this blog about how the Bible uses geography to convey meaning. I am particularly interested in cases where multiple events, sometimes separated by centuries or even millenia, occur in the same place; in these cases, I often find that the events in question gracefully dovetail to paint a wonderful picture that ultimately points to Christ. This phenomenon is one of many examples of how the Bible works as a coherent whole rather than merely a collection of disparate texts. What may appear to be an obscure, insignificant detail mentioned in passing somewhere in an Old Testament narrative can yield a profusion of intricate meaning when coupled with a New-Testament counterpart, and vice versa. Common settings can act as one of many signposts for discovering such connections.

The Brook of Kidron
In my last post on biblical topography, I talked mainly about rivers. This time I would like to talk about another river - or rather a brook, namely the Brook of Kidron, which spans most of the perimeter of Jerusalem. At multiple times in the Bible, this stream is treated as a definitive border, a kind of Rubicon between the holy city and the wilderness beyond (e.g. Jeremiah 31:40); in this respect, it is not at all dissimilar to the Jordan, or even the Dead Sea. A second theme often associated with this body of water is that of judgement. For example, throughout the books of Chronicles and Kings, whenever the land was purged of its idols - which was a sort of routine experience, it would appear - they would be cast into this brook and burned as concrete declaration that these false gods had been rejected. Kidron's topography was particulary suited to this function given that it remained dry for most of the year and was exceptionally narrow yet deep along the section that abutted the city - a physical abyss if ever there was one. The very name 'Kidron', which means "making black or sad", testifies to its thematic associations.

These associations are also reflected in the three interconnected valleys that, at the time, contained the Brook of Kidron and loosely demarcated the city of Jerusalem: the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the Valley of [the Son of] Hinnom (also known as Gehenna), and the Tyropoeon Valley (also known as the Valley of Cheesemongers). The first of these, which separates Mount Moriah (that is, the Temple Mount) from the Mount of Olives, is mentioned in name in only one chapter of the Bible - namely Joel 3, where it is envisioned as a place where Jehovah would judge all of the heathen for their offenses against Israel. Gehenna, meanwhile, was proclaimed by King Josiah to be defiled (2 Kings 23:10) after it was used as the location for idolatrous child-sacrifices (see 2 Chronicles 28:3, 33:6; Jeremiah 7:31; 19:2-6), and it subsequently featured a perpetual inferno used to incinerate the city's waste - including pig intestines, the ultimate uncleanliness. It thus become associated with hellfire (e.g. Jeremiah 7:32; Matthew 5:22,29,30, 10:28, 18:9, 23:15,33; Mark 9:43,15,47; Luke 12:5; James 3:6), and may have been the "valley of the dry bones" envisaged by Ezekial (Chapter 37).

Although the themes of wilderness and judgement permeate the Brook of Kidron, so too do their opposite numbers - namely, paradise and grace. I have not yet mentioned the Tyropoeon Valley, which divided Moriah, the Temple Mount, from Zion, the City of David. Although it is today filled to the brim with rubbish and is therefore in keeping with the connotations of the other two valleys, it is also the location of the Springs of Siloam, through which King Hezekiah built his famous aqueduct to provide water for the city (2 Kings 20:20), from which the King's Garden, a plot of land so fertile that it was able to sustain vegetation year-round (e.g. Nehemiah 3:15; 2 Kings 25:4; Jeremiah 39:4, 52:7; Zechariah 14:10), and at which one of Jesus' healings took effect (John 9:7). Speaking of Hezekiah, that great king was also responsible for building a tunnel that connected the Pool of Siloam to the Pool of Gihon, which lay within a valley of the same name that was essentially just the western extremity of Gehenna (2 Chronicles 32:3, 30; 33:14). Gihon, if you recall from my last post on Biblical topography, was also the name of one of the four rivers of Eden (Genesis 2:13).

Prelude
While the Tyropoeon and the Hinnom Valleys contain 'redeeming features', however, it is the Valley of Jehoshaphat that points to the ultimate act of redemption. You will infer from this latter phrase that I referring to Christ; but rather than skip straight to the climax, it is worth prefacing the story with an excursion into the Old Testament. In 2 Samuel 15, David is forced to flee Jerusalem after his son Absalom conspires to usurp the throne. In verse 23, we are told that "all the land wept aloud as all the people passed by, and the king crossed the brook Kidron, and all the people passed on toward the wilderness". After ordering the priests to return the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem - which, you will recall, was supposed to accommodate the presence of God - David, weeping and mourning, ascends the Mount of Olives while Absalom enters Jerusalem to take charge (it is this particular event that indicates he crossed Kidron in the of the Valley of Jehoshaphat). In the next chapter, a relative of (the late) Saul called Shimei approaches, hurling stones, dust, and curses at David and his entourage. Abishai, the chief of David's three mighty men (see 2 Samuel 23), requests permission to decapitate this "dead dog", but David curiously chooses to let him continue his assault, reckoning that the curse has been sent by God.

Jump over to 1 Kings 1, and the throne is once again being contested by one of David's sons, this time Adonijah, who is holding an epic feast to celebrate his own illegitimate kingship. At the behest of his wife Bathsheba and the prophet Nathan, David declares that Solomon will instead be king, according to his apparent promise to Bathsheba (Solomon's mother) and the Lord's earlier decree (see 1 Chronicles 22). There is an indirect allusion here to the Tyropoeon Valley, which separated Zion (where David had reigned) from Moriah (where Solomon would build the Temple), and it is in Gihon where Solomon is annointed as king; the Valley of Jehoshaphat, however, remains conspicuously absent. The text mentions three times that Solomon rode David's mule to his coronation ceremony, which is complete with trumpets and cheering. In the next chapter, David is on his death bed, issuing his last commandments and recommendations to Solomon. In verses 8 and 9, we read that David's final instruction to his son before he dies is to kill Shimei, the curser of 2 Samuel 15. From verse 36 onwards, however, we see that Solomon does not immediately obey this order; rather, he tells Shimei that he must stay within the walls of Jerusalem, and will be executed if he ventures beyond - you guessed it - the Brook of Kidron. Shimei initially accedes to this arrangement, but eventually violates it by pursuing his servants (on a donkey, no less) after they run away, and is duly put to death. In later chapters, Solomon goes on to construct the Temple.

Climax
What is the significance of all of these details? You will no doubt have discerned a few Messianic parallels already - some of which are prophesied in Zechariah chapters 9 and 14 - but let's explore them in more detail. There is a particular period in Jesus' life that represents a mirror image of the Old Testament synposis outlined above, beginning in the Gospel of John, chapter 11, when Jesus comes to the town of Bethany on the slopes of the Mount of Olives. The Old Testament story, too, began on this mountain; but whereas the Old Testament story ended with Solomon executing Shimei, and thus fulfilling the curse of death, the New Testament story begins with Jesus resurrecting Lazarus, and thus portending the blessing of eternal life. In the next chapter (see also Matthew 21; Mark 14; Luke 19), after a stint in the wilderness (during which quite a lot actually happens, according to the other gospels), Jesus is once again in Bethany, but descends the Mount of Olives to enter Jerusalem, presumably crossing the Brook of Kidron in the Valley of Jehoshaphat. The procession known as the 'Triumphal Entry' closely resembles Solomon's royal coronation ceremony, complete with donkey and ebullient crowd, the members of which even refer to Jesus as "the Son of David".

Although synchronising the chronologies of the various gospel accounts is not straightforward, it appears that Jesus actually leaves Jerusalem sometime after the Triumphal Entry and returns to Bethany, making at least one more foray in and out of Jerusalem before his final entry (see Matthew 21; Mark 11). Again, a lot actually happens in this interval, perhaps most notably Jesus' prediction that he will destroy the Temple and raise it in three days (Matthew 24:1-2; Mark 13:1-2; Luke 21:5-6) - a kind of augmented antithesis of Solomon's appointment to build the physical building. The more stylised Gospel of John, however, skips directly from the Triumphal Entry (chapter 12) to the Last Supper (chapter 13), which is now believed to have taken place on Mount Zion, the City of David. Indeed, just as David delivered his final instructions to Solomon before his death, it is here that Jesus delivers His final instructions to His disciples - six chapters' worth, in fact! Unlike David, however, who issued multiple commandments - most of them relating to vengeful executions - Jesus leaves one overriding commandment, namely to love one another (John 13:34), speaking extensively of His own execution.

The next transition in John occurs in chapters 18 (see also Matthew 26; Mark 14; Luke 22), where the marvelous symmetry between the Old and New Testament stories really comes to a head. In verse 1, we read that Jesus leaves Jerusalem and crosses the Brook of Kidron - which here receives its only mention in the entire New Testament - to enter the Garden of Gesthemane, at the foot of the Mount of Olives. From the other gospel accounts, it seems to be here, beyond the categorical border of Kidron, that Jesus actually comes face to face with His fate (which is, however, also his willing sacrifice), namely the utter separation from God (who is geographically symbolised by Jerusalem) that accompanies sin - the judgement, the Gehenna, the place at which false idols and all that was unclean was condemned to the depths and immolated. It is beyond the Brook of Kidron that Jesus, in sheer anguish, cries out to God and even sweats blood in a manner that harks back to David's own sorrowful ascent of Olivet after ordering that the Ark of God's presence be returned to Jerusalem. Indeed, like David, who accepted the curse foisted on him by Shimei and instructed his mighty men not to brandish their swords, Jesus submits to Judas and his posse of guards, directing Simon Peter to sheathe his sword and repairing the damage already inflicted by it.

David, however, was a man of blood, and could not drink the cup of judgement that came from Bethlehem (see 2 Samuel 23) - the cup that Jesus, a man of blood in a very different sense, chooses to bear in Gesthemane. Jesus is taken back to Jerusalem, where, just as the false king Adonijah was feasting when Solomon was coronated, Jesus is crucified as "King of the Jews" during the Passover Feast - outside of the city walls, no less. Jesus thus crossed the Brook of Kidron, where the Israelites had sacrificed their children to the false god Molech, to sacrifice Himself, the Son of God. In so doing, He absorbed Shimei's curse of death, which was due to all of us. However, while Solomon went on to build the physical Temple, Jesus was resurrected in the Temple of his own body. The redemptive repercussions of this twofold act were foretold by the prophet Jeremiah, who proclaimed: "The whole valley of the dead bodies and the ashes, and all the fields as far as the brook Kidron, to the corner of the Horse Gate toward the east, shall be sacred to the Lord. It shall not be plucked up or overthrown anymore forever" (Jeremiah 31:40).

Epilogue
If you enjoyed this post or found it insightful, I would encourage you to adopt a similar approach to Bible study. One of the many beautiful things about the Bible is that it contains so many layers of meaning. You can glean the surface level relatively easily, at least in many cases; but to reap the layers underneath, you have to spend time sowing. I have found that God - and not the Devil, as the saying goes - is so often in details. Seek and you will find!

The Parable of the Greek Debt Crisis

I wasn't sure whether to post this on here or my other blog, as it encompasses both Biblical material and current economic events; so, if either of these subjects do not interest you, you may want to turn away now.

Thomas Piketty, the 'superstar' economist famous for his recent book on inequality, was the latest commentator to point out a particularly cruel irony regarding current events in the Eurozone - namely that Germany, while refusing to entertain the possibility of pruning (let alone cancelling) the debt owed to it by Greece, in fact never repaid the vast liabilities that it accrued following the Second World War. Those debts were essentially cancelled by the Allies because they were so obviously counterproductive ('odious' is the technical term, I believe) for all parties involved - such a cumbersome debt burden would prevent the German economy from recovering anytime in the foreseeable future, which would in turn not only prevent the country from ever repaying its debts, but also duplicate the very recessionary climate that facilitated Hitler's rise to power. The same dilemma is clearly at play in Greece today - while far-right parties are waiting in the wings for a chance to pounce, even the IMF admitted in a  leaked document that Greece would not be able to repay its debts even in its 'best case scenario'. Thus, as many commentators (not least Yanis Varoufakis, Syriza's recently-resigned finance member) have pointed out, the 'conditionalities' currently being imposed on Greece, which including beyond-draconian austerity measures that can only have the effect of further strangulating the economy, are incomprehensible from any rational perspective.

All of this is well-known. What I find especially interesting, however, is that Jesus Himself captured this situation quite accurately in his Parable of the Unmerciful Servant, recorded for us in verses 21-35 of Matthew 18, which are transcribed below.


The Parable of the Unmerciful Servant (or, the Greek Debt Crisis)

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?"

Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times. 

"Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand bags of gold was brought to him. Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt. At this the servant fell on his knees before him. 'Be patient with me,' he begged, 'and I will pay back everything'. The servant’s master took pity on him, canceled the debt and let him go.

"But when that servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred silver coins. He grabbed him and began to choke him. 'Pay back what you owe me!' he demanded. His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay it back'. But he refused. Instead, he went off and had the man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt.

"When the other servants saw what had happened, they were outraged and went and told their master everything that had happened. Then the master called the servant in. 'You wicked servant', he said, 'I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?' In anger his master handed him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed.

"This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart."