Justification by Faith and Our Participation

Today's post grows out of my continued reading of Charles Raith's short, but reasonably dense, book Aquinas and Calvin on Romans: God's Justification and Our Participation. The title, as I am sure you will agree, is quite self explanatory. The work ostensibly moves through Paul's letter to the Romans as a way of discussing Aquinas' and Calvin's different readings of the text. The main two prongs of his argument being: first, Aquinas' position is, in fact, not the same as the "schoolmen" who provoked so much of Calvin's ire; secondly, Calvin's mind-set of competitive causality - that is to say, that human and divine causality are mutually exclusive - is flawed, and circumvented by Aquinas' participatory reading of Paul.

You might not be shocked to read that I disagree with this second point.

You may - depending on how much Aquinas you've read - not be shocked to read that, in many areas, Calvin and Aquinas are in profound agreement; both seeing themselves, in some respects, as heirs of Augustine. Both share the language of election, justification by faith, unmerited grace, &c.

Where, then, is the disagreement?

This is where we enter the discussion - which may seem, to many readers, akin to 'angels dancing on pinheads' - as to the way in which justification by faith 'works', particularly in relation to our longer-term hope of sanctification - that is to say, becoming more like Jesus.

Beginning with Aquinas - for no other reason than he was chronologically first - it is to say that justification, or a right standing before God, begins in God and has its outworking in our faith. Our faith becomes the way in which Christ's righteousness is 'infused' into us. In fine, something of Christ becomes something of us so that we in ourselves are made righteous in and of ourselves. We are made righteous before God in se. Being, therefore, made righteous people Aquinas understands our sanctification to be part of justification, not a second grace.

Moving to Calvin who says that the justification we receive by faith - a faith that, again, begins in the faithfulness of God - is more like a cloak, of sorts. His analogy is that we 'wear' Jesus' righteousness to cover our sinfulness - although we remain in ourselves sinful. This is a righteousness that is extra nos - outside of ourselves. We use the term 'imputed' here to mean 'ascribed'; Jesus' righteousness is imputed to us, we don't become righteous in se. This means, in an almost clinical way, that justification - a right standing before God - and sanctification - becoming more like Jesus - are distinct works of God for the believer.

Hopefully you are still with me - not long to go - I want to explore the implications of these two positions a little further.


Beginning again with Aquinas: because righteousness is 'infused' in us - and because, therefore we are righteous in se - we can do works that are good, in and of, themselves as they come from our transformed and newly righteous will. But - and here is the major downside - it also means that when we sin we damage the righteousness in us. Which - to conclude Aquinas for today - means we must either (1) participate in our salvation by good works, or (2) lose our salvation by sinning.

Things are completely different for Calvin, however. Because, here, we think of righteousness as a 'cloak' that covers us - whilst God slowly does the work of sanctification in us - our works are never good in se. We cannot, therefore participate in, or add to, the righteousness that is extra nos - outside of us, alien, and fully Christ's. The corollary to this is that when we sin - and we do sin - our sin cannot damage our righteousness, because it is not our own righteousness, it is fully Christ's.

This is why I remain convinced by Calvin's reading of Paul. Aquinas' ever repeating pattern of avoiding sin, sinning, restoration, avoiding sin, sinning, restoration, that forms the heartbeat of Thomist morality is alien to the gospel I know - the gospel where Christ came to save sinners. Calvin, conversely, presents Christ as a place to which I might flee; a refuge where I might hide; a righteousness upon which I can fully depend.

Isaiah 61:10 (ESV)

 I will greatly rejoice in the Lord;
    my soul shall exult in my God,
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation;
    he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress,
    and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

 

Bartimaeus and the Son of David: A Homily

A couple of people asked whether my sermons are recorded, they are not, but I do stick fairly closely to my script, so what appears here is roughly what the congregation heard:

Sitting in poverty, beside that street two thousand years ago, Bartimaeus, though he is blind, sees a great and eternal truth. As word spreads through the town, gossip and speculation, observation and inference, with the arrival of this itinerant preacher and his band of disciples, Bartimaeus comes to realise the hope that he has in his heart. The faith he has that God will not leave him in his misery, the faith that he has that Messiah has come:

Let us Pray: Almighty and ever wise God, who through your son Jesus Christ have vindicated the Israel of God, the Church, open our ears and hearts to hear your words for us today, by the power of your Holy Spirit. Amen

As Jesus approaches where he rests, Bartimaeus makes a bold decision, he cries out in faith. Although it was perhaps opportunistic, or spur of the moment, the phrase that Blind Bartimaeus chooses to address Jesus, Son of David, was far from chance. It was a colloquial, popular expression that indicated that somebody was thought to be the Messiah, the Christ, the Anointed Servant of God. As we know from reading the Gospels each Sunday, year in year out, the Jewish people at the time of Jesus had developed a range of ideas about who they thought this Messiah, this saviour, would be and what he would be like. It is fair to say, however, that many of these ideas stemmed from the Jewish scriptures concerning David, the great king. 

In many respects the historic King David was revered, almost as a sort of mythic ‘once and future king’, held in popular imagination like our own king Arthur. It was from the line, or house, of David that the Messiah was to come. We hear this prophecy throughout the old testament. We find it especially in the books of the history of the kings of Israel and Judah, but also in the books of the Prophetswho so often challenged those Kings on behalf of God. We heard from Jeremiah earlier this morning, elsewhere in his book he says (32:4-5) "the LORD says: 'David will never fail to have a man to sit on the throne of the house of Israel...'". 

Bartimaus must have begun to connect these pieces of the Hebrew Scriptures, our Old Testament to the person of Jesus. From his use of this phrase, Son of David, we can tell that as far as he is concerned Jesus is the Messiah. Jesus has come to save and vindicate Israel - back to our OT Reading for a moment, and Jeremiah who gives us God’s words for Israel: "See, I will bring them back from the land of the North and gather them from the far ends of earth; all of them: the blind and the lame," We can't know for certain that Bartimaeus knew this particular scripture, but he clearly believed that God was in the business of restoring Israel, with perhaps a particular concern for the blind, or otherwise suffering. We are only, at this stage in the story of Jesus, beginning to scratch the surface of what it means for God to restore Israel.

Bartimaeus may well have expected Jesus, as the Messiah, to be a warrior king, who would free the Jewish people from the Roman oppressors, and establish a new Kingdom of Israel. David was such a warrior king; the Old Testament says he united the tribes of Israel, that he defeated their enemies, that he was a great king This is exactly the mould that they expected the messiah to fill, that they expected Jesus to fill. Many believed this about the Messiah, even some within Jesus’ own group of disciples. But even so, it is clear that Bartimaeus had a more nuanced, or more developed idea about the messiah. Not only must the messiah be a great king, he must also be merciful. Bartimaeus hoped that Jesus would be merciful to him. Jesus obliges, giving just a hint of the mercy that will come to represent his Messiah-ship. 

Jesus is so much more than a Warrior king, he achieves so much more than defeating Israel’s earthly enemies, the Romans. Jesus as messiah is to be God’s true king for Israel, and that means restoring, and vindicating. This can only be done by resolving Israel, and the world’s, biggest problem: enmity with God.  We discover in our NT reading discussion of Christ as High Priest, for Israel and indeed all people. This is God's vision for saving Israel, and the letter to the Hebrews continues: 

But when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, [he is himself that offering, that sacrifice] he sat down at the right hand of God, waiting from that time until his enemies should be made a footstool for his feet. 

Jesus is to die, offering himself upon the cross for the sins of the world before he sits down in the place of honour at the right hand of God. Jesus does sit, enthroned in heaven as King. He is king. But it is not as King that he achieves the work of saving God’s people – it is by offering himself as a sacrifice for our sins. And so, he truly becomes our messiah, our redeemer-king, when we enter into that salvation. We do not cross the Red Sea to enter into a geographical Israel, we pass through the waters of baptism to join the Israel of God, the Church, which is saved by the Sacrifice of Christ upon the cross, delivering us from sin and death. My plea for you this morning, is that you will draw near to Christ the messiah by faith, and enter into the mystery of his death as we partake of his body and blood crying out “‘Son of David, have pity on me.’

Priestly Robes:

Given that I have now been selected to study for the priesthood, I thought we could revisit this post, from 2011, where I explored what it means to be a priest in the evangelical tradition. I had almost forgotten how much of an evo I am!

I often find organised religion slightly ridiculous.

Not quite so ridiculous as other strands of religion mind you, but my point still stands.

Christianity walks a perilous path between the two. Organised chaos is our aim. And that's what happens when you have a Priesthood of all believers, yet still have an ordained order of priests.
Much of the theological ink spilled over this matter was wasted on misunderstandings of some simple Bible stuff. A good friend of mine once taught me 'understand the bible by reading the bible:

In the New Testament we have two Greek words, which have both come to be translated  'Priest', in my beloved, but often misleading English.

ἱερεύς - hiereus meaning "sacred one". These are the Old-testament-sacrifice-offering-blood-and-guts-and-gore guys. They were a select few, as with most religions, held to be in some way especially sacred. They were almost a race within the Jewish race. All being patrilinial descendants of Moses' mate Aaron.

πρεσβύτερος - presbyteros meaning "one with elderhood". Here is where we get our word priest from, and it has nothing to do with sacrifices.

#facepalm

It's a pastoral role, about replicating the Apostles' love for the brethren, and their flair for administration... maybe.

The confusion has crept in with the doctrine that at Communion the priest offers it as a sacrifice. This is a doctrine I am uncomfortable with, but mostly because it re-restricts the use of hiereus. The bible, IMHO, calls us all to live a life of sacrifice. Christianity, for me, turned the old religious system upside-down; ushering us all into the the life of the sacred ones. Christ in us makes us all sacred. In that sense, in the sense that we offer a sacrifice, pleasing and acceptable to God - we are all priests, through Christ.

Though we don't get to kill animals.

Unless you're my dad, but that's an entirely different story.

We are not however all priests, in the presbyteros sense of the word; that is, in the actual sense of the word. Our ordained priesthood has a very specific role, and it involves being sacred ones every day - even when they don't feel like it. Even when they demonstrably haven't acted like it. And raising as many people as they meet into a position where they too can become sacred ones.Don't get me wrong though. Although, I don't think Communion should be confused or conflated with Christ's actual, historical sacrifice - I am by no means a full blown protestant.

Our priesthood is about raising people to meet Jesus. And how do they [priests] do that?

Primarily, it's about making God real to people, and this is done through:

Communion.
Baptism.

but also through confirmation, holy orders, marriage, reconciliation, extreme unction... and actually any number of ways that God's grace is conveyed into people's lives through ordinary and physical means.

How  I long to join them.

NB - This post must send a Hat Tip over to http://www.liturgy.co.nz/blog/priest-altar/1950