First Blessings

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John Roop

Hebrews 11-13: Our Superior Response

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, as we live among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Introduction

When I first began teaching high school nearly thirty-five years ago, teachers were required by the state to use the Tennessee Instructional Model to plan and deliver our lessons; it gave a uniform structure and format to all instruction. I certainly used it … when I was being evaluated by my administrators, and then I largely forgot about it every other day in the school year. In all fairness, though, it did sharpen the focus of a lesson by having the teacher complete this statement at the outset: By the end of this lesson the student will know _____ and be able to do _____. That statement emphasized the twofold nature of student-centered education as the state envisioned it: to know and to do. It was not a successful lesson if the teacher only provided information and the student received it. Knowledge calls for response: to know and to do are the two sides of the coin of education.

We see that same emphasis throughout Scripture; the grand story that is being told — the proclamation of the Gospel — calls for a response. This is certainly true in Hebrews. The author has made his case for the superiority of Jesus over the whole of the Law and prophets: Jesus as the superior revelation, Jesus as the superior high priest, Jesus as the superior sacrifice. All that went before was a signpost pointing to Jesus and he is the final, superior destination toward which it pointed. And that superior telos, that superior fulfillment, calls for a superior response on the part of God’s people, a response of faith, endurance, and sacrifice. It is not enough to know; one must do. It is to that response that the author turns his attention in Hebrews 11-13.

Hebrews 11: Our Response of Faith

I do not know exactly how I managed it, but I completed many years of schooling and even became a fully functioning adult never having had a single biology course — not in high school, not in college. Now, I’m not proud of that, and, I know that it represents a significant gap in my knowledge. Perhaps for that sin God gave me a wife who worked in the medical field and later taught biology and anatomy and physiology and a daughter who majored in biology education. That means I have heard a lot of biology talk through the years. I even listened enough to learn this one thing: The mitochondrion is the powerhouse of the cell. I have very little idea of exactly what that means, but I’ve been assured by both my wife and daughter that it is true. I actually did some reading about it in preparation for this lesson. As I understand it, the mitochondrion, part of the structure of certain types of cells — certainly those cells found in humans — breaks down glucose to produce the energy rich molecule ATP which in turns powers cellular functions. The cell couldn’t do anything it does without the mitochondria providing the energy.

I wonder if there is a spiritual analog to mitochondria? Bear with my foolishness for a moment; I think this might be helpful. If we consider each one of us as a cell in the body of Christ — I know St. Paul calls us members, larger structures like hands and feet and eyes and ears, but if, for a moment, we think on the cellular level — what might be the mitochondria of that spiritual cell, the powerhouse of it that makes possible all cellular function? And, what are those essential cellular functions?

There is more than one answer that I could offer and defend as candidate for spiritual mitochondria. But, in the context of Hebrews, I think the author would answer faith. Faith is to spiritual life as mitochondria are to biological life: that without which there is no power to live and to function.

The mitochondrion is the powerhouse of the cell — a pithy, memorable description. What is faith? How might we describe it?

Hebrews 11:1 (ESV): 1 Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

This is not the way I first learned this verse, nor is it the way I prefer it even now. I think the King James translation captures the original language better:

Hebrews 11:1 (KJV): 1 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

This is a weightier and more tangible wording than what we find in the ESV. The author of Hebrews has called his audience to place their hope in Jesus as the superior revelation, the superior high priest, the superior sacrifice. It is faith that gives substance to that hope, faith that constitutes the substrate, the foundation of that hope. And, faith provides the evidence, the proof of the superiority of Jesus. When we are speaking of faith in this way, it is important to do so robustly and fully. Faith is not merely a belief in something. Rather faith — living faith, as the Reformers called it — includes notitia (conceptual knowledge), assensus (agreement/assent), and fiducia (faithfulness/obedience). This kind of faith is weighty, substantial, evidentiary. This kind of faith empowers us to function as those who are committed to the superiority of Jesus, just as the mitochondria empower the cell to function biologically.

What are these spiritual functions that faith empowers? That answer comprises the remainder of Hebrews 11. I want to enumerate some of these functions according to the text and discuss just a few of them. Let’s start by filling in this blank from Hebrews 11: By faith we ________:

Understand (vs 3) — Faith is not a blind acceptance of things we do not understand but rather the means by which we understand/experience truth beyond mere reason and even beyond mere cognition. Faith is itself a way of knowing because it opens us up to relationship and experience.

Offer acceptable sacrifices (vs 4) — Think here of the widow of Zarephath who offered to Elijah, because he was the prophet of God, a portion of what would have been her final meal. Only faith could have empowered her to do that, and through her faithful sacrifice she received the blessing of life for herself and for her son. Since the sacrifices we offer to God we offer through Christ, it is faith in him that makes our sacrifices acceptable.

Please God (vs 6) — God certainly wants our love, yes, but the precursor of love is faith. There is, it seems to me, some significance to the order of things in 1 Corinthians 13: now these three remain — faith, hope, and love.

Show holy fear and become heirs of righteousness (vs 7)

Obey beyond our knowledge (vs 8) — This notion was captured well in a prayer by Trappist Monk Thomas Merton. I think it would have sounded true to Abraham, I know it sounds true to me, and I suspect it might to some of you. It is faith which powers obedience beyond our knowledge:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following Your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that, if I do this, You will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, I will trust You always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for You are ever with me, and You will never leave me to face my perils alone. Amen.

Receive God’s promises (vs 11) — In the general absolution offered at the Eucharist the priest says, “Almighty God, our heavenly Father, who in his great mercy has promised forgiveness of sins to all those who sincerely repent and with true faith turn to him….” It is faith that makes God’s promises and blessing accessible to us. You remember when Jesus was rejected in his hometown, that he then did only a few mighty works there because of their lack of faith (Mt 13:58).

Pass testing (vss 17-18) — We are all tested: sometimes by God; sometimes by the world, the flesh, and the devil; sometimes by our own human weaknesses and passions. No one escapes testing. Faith does not help us to avoid testing, but it does help us to endure it, to find meaning in it, to walk with God through it, to pass it and to grow from it.

Bless the next generation (vs 21)

Renounce the world (vss 23-28)

Conquer (vss 29-30)

Are preserved/spared (vs 31) — I would like to extend this notion of being preserved/spared by our faith to one of the great Reformation debates: the perseverance of the saints. What confidence do we or can we have that ultimately we will be justified? I like the answer that N. T. Wright gives on this. He says, in paraphrase, that our faith is the evidence in the present moment that we shall be justified on the last great day. That threads the needle as well as any answer that I have ever seen; it allows me to come boldly before God through Jesus, our great high priest, and it cautions me to guard and nurture the faith that is in me.

The author of Hebrews says he would like to say much more about faith, but that time fails him (Heb 11:32), as it does us. But, I commend to you the remainder of the chapter, Heb 11:32-40.

Hebrews 12: Our Response of Endurance

I ran track in high school…for one week. I don’t know what madness possessed me to think I was a runner or why in the world the coach thought I should run the long distance events. But, rather than building me up to them gradually, he started me out running miles on that first day of practice. I just didn’t have the endurance for that kind of race, nor did I have much faith that I would survive long enough to develop that kind of endurance. So, I quit after a week.

My lack of endurance for track was of no real importance; it made no long term difference to either the coach or me that I quit. But, when it comes to our response to Jesus, endurance is crucial; it matters very much whether you quit or endure.

Hebrews 12:1–2 (ESV): 1 Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, 2 looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

The SEC — and certainly the Tennessee Volunteers — are known for packing football stadiums with rabid and noisy fans. The sheer number of raucous Vol-for-Life fans at Neyland Stadium does at least two things beyond filling the coffers of the UT Athletic Department: it energizes our team and it demoralizes and confuses our opponents. The Tennessee players are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses and that makes it easier for the players to lay aside fatigue, pain, self-doubt — anything that holds them back from victory — and play with endurance the game that is set before them.

Well, you see the analogy. We have a great race of faith before us — sometimes a sprint but always a marathon — and we too are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. Who are these witnesses? In the context of Hebrews 11, the witnesses are the faithful of generations gone before, what we might call the communion of saints. I see in this word witness/μαρτύρων a double entendre: a witness is one who has seen something and one who testifies to what was seen. They were witnesses in their day to the faithfulness of God and they testified to it in the faithfulness of their lives/response. And they are still doing so, because the witness of their lives is testimony to us. And, the implication is that they are also watching us, witnessing our struggles and victories, encouraging us as fans encourage the Vols.

But, the author moves from this great cloud of witnesses to a single witness, Jesus. To whom was Jesus a witness? Again, I think there is a double meaning at work. Jesus, in enduring the cross, was a witness to the powers and principalities — both human and spiritual — that God’s love was the unconquerable power victorious over death, sin, and all the would-be powers of this fallen world. And Jesus’s endurance for the sake of the joy to come is witness to those that follow him of what it means to take up the cross and follow him, and of the suffering and glory of doing so. If we are faithful, we are and will be seated in the heavenly places with Christ Jesus (see Eph 2:6). So, in the race of faith set before us, we keep looking to Jesus as the example of faithful endurance:

Hebrews 12:3 (ESV): 3 Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted.

This talk of endurance prompts some questions. First, where do all the struggles in our life of faith come from?

Our baptismal vows begin with a threefold renunciation:

Do you renounce the devil and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?

Do you renounce the empty promises and deadly deceits of this world that corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?

Do you renounce the sinful desires of the flesh that draw you from the love of God?

We often summarize these renunciations as a rejection of the world, the flesh, and the devil, a sort of unholy trinity. But that rejection is hard and it’s costly and it’s not one-and-done; it has to be renewed moment by moment. Take each of the renunciations in turn. What are we renouncing, and why is it difficult?

The world: How difficult is it to be out of step with the prevailing cultural expectations/norms?

The flesh: How difficult is it to curb our pleasures and to embrace sacrifice, lack, and suffering?

The devil: How difficult is it to discern and reject the lies of the devil?

So, we have these three powers ranged against us, and we are called to endure in our struggle against them. A great help in that is to see and understand this struggle as purposeful, even as a means of grace from God to us. Let me offer an analogy. In my twenties and thirties I studied and then taught karate. When a prospective student was seeking information about our school, I learned to expect two questions: What does it take to get a black belt, and how long will it take? I had a ready answer: ten dollars and about five minutes. I can sell you a black belt from our storeroom for ten dollars and we can complete the transaction in about five minutes, and then you will have a black belt if that’s what you really want. But, if you want to become a black belt practitioner of the art, then we’re talking years of hard work. You must submit yourself to the discipline of the art and endure the struggle of training day in and day out, trusting that it is for your good — not to make getting a black belt arbitrarily difficult, but so that you are transformed into a particular kind of person. Then, you can wear the belt legitimately and not as an imposter. To simply sell you a black belt would be to treat you and the discipline with disrespect.

Now, back to Hebrews. Why do we have to struggle so much against the world, the flesh, and the devil? Why such need for endurance? Because we are being submitted to a necessary discipline of transformation by God himself who loves us as sons and daughters and not as imposters (illegitimate children).

Hebrews 12:7–11 (ESV): 7 It is for discipline that you have to endure. God is treating you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline? 8 If you are left without discipline, in which all have participated, then you are illegitimate children and not sons. 9 Besides this, we have had earthly fathers who disciplined us and we respected them. Shall we not much more be subject to the Father of spirits and live? 10 For they disciplined us for a short time as it seemed best to them, but he disciplines us for our good, that we may share his holiness. 11 For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.

I think this is profoundly important for the spiritual life: to accept the struggle and suffering that come as if from the Lord, to accept it as God’s loving discipline — not as punishment, but as training — either allowed or sent because he loves us and wants us to grow into maturity as his sons and daughters. That at least provides a meaningful answer to the question of “Why?” that people struggle with in the midst of suffering and loss. Why is this happening to me/us? It is part of God’s loving discipline meant for your good and not for your destruction.

Given that understanding, how should we respond?

Hebrews 12:12–13 (ESV): 12 Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, 13 and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.

In Man’s Search for Meaning Viktor Frankl wrote, “Those who have a ‘why’ to live, can bear with almost any ‘how’.” To the extent we recognize and accept suffering as discipline, we have the “why.”

We do not have time to explore the remainder of this chapter, but I commend to your reading and reflection Hebrews 12:18-24; it is a glorious vision of where we stand in the New Jerusalem. I think about it often as we come together at the Eucharist.

Hebrews 13: Our Response of Sacrifice

The ESV provides a chapter heading for Hebrews 13: Sacrifices Pleasing to God. I’m a bit ambivalent about that heading; I understand it, and it makes sense on one level. But at a deeper level, I’m not so sure. Let me ask this. The pearl merchant in Jesus’s parable who sold all his other pearls to obtain the one: was that a sacrifice? Had the rich young ruler sold all his goods, given them to the poor and followed Jesus, would that have been a sacrifice? Did St. Francis who actually did renounce his former life of status, privilege, and wealth for a life of holy poverty consider that a sacrifice or a gain? Is it a sacrifice to give up a false identity based on the passing values of this world — the world, the flesh, and the devil — for a true identity as sons and daughters of God? Or is it, instead, a laudable exchange — a great and praiseworthy blessing?

The Sea/Laudable Exchange (St. Clare, adapted by John Michael Talbot)

Leave the things of earth for the things of eternity.
Choose the things of heaven o’er the goods of the earth:
To obtain the hundred fold in the place of the one,
and so possess a blessed and eternal life.

What a laudable exchange!
What a great and praiseworthy blessing!
What a laudable exchange!

Because of this I have resolved to always progress from good to better,
to be faithful in his service, to always progress from virtue to virtue:
To obtain the hundred fold in the place of the one,
and so possess a blessed and eternal life.

What a laudable exchange!
What a great and praiseworthy blessing!
What a laudable exchange!

Leave the things of earth for the things of eternity.

So, I think this chapter outlines a Christian discipline of sacrificing the ways of the world for the treasures of the kingdom of God, which, in the end, is not sacrifice at all, but a laudable exchange.

The author starts with the most fundamental discipline which is foundational to all that follows: Let brotherly love continue (Heb 13:1).

St. Thomas Aquinas defines love as “willing the good of the other,” in other words, as loving when there is no advantage to you in so doing, no good that will accrue to you. Who am I to disagree with the Angelic Doctor, as Aquinas is known? But it seems to me that there may be something beyond this or more fundamental: refusing to recognize anyone as other, realizing that God loves us all, and that there is such a thing as the common good to which we must be devoted. I don’t mean to introduce politics here, but before God my child is no more important than the child of a refugee huddled at the border. Love of the other is important, as we will see in the next verse, but it is not ultimate: brotherly love is both the foundation and the pinnacle of Christian love.

But, there are those who in this world are “others;” more accurately, there are those who are strangers to us. To them, we are to show hospitality (Heb 13:2). We think of showing hospitality to those we know, but the actual word used here — φιλοξενίας — literally means “love of stranger.” That is a challenge to us, because we live in a very different culture than that of the original audience of this epistle. Though I’ve done so, I would not want my wife to give a ride to a stranger, nor would I be likely to invite a homeless stranger to spend the night in my house. I am bound by a certain fear or caution. But I am also bound by this discipline of hospitality. So, I have to continue to struggle to see what that looks like in our cultural setting, as do you, as does the Church.

Imprisonment was a threat and reality for those to whom this letter came. In that time, prison was not punishment; it was where you waited for trial, where you waited to learn what the punishment would be. The conditions were brutal and your welfare was of no concern to the authorities. They did not supply your needs; you were dependent upon family and friends for food, clothing — all the necessities. So, the author writes almost certainly about Christian prisoners:

Hebrews 13:3 (ESV): 3 Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body.

But, what about our very different cultural context? We should still remember the prisoners, as many individuals and Christian organizations do. Knox CAM (www.knowcam.org) — the Knoxville Christian Arts Ministry — presents the Gospel of Christ through music, drama, and dance in Tennessee Prisons. Men of Valor “encourages [incarcerated men] with the hope of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, welcomes them into the family of God, trains them in the Biblical principles of manhood, and with a very structured plan, helps them to become the men, husbands, fathers, and members of society that God created them to be” (www.men-of-valor.org). There are ways in which we can still remember those in prison and support those who are already doing so.

Another part of our discipline is sexual purity:

Hebrews 13:4 (ESV): 4 Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous.

Our culture tells us that sex is a private matter, no one’s business but our own, and that casual, recreational sex — emotionally and spiritually meaningless sex — is quite harmless and even beneficial. It’s a lie. Marriage and the marital sexual relationship is an icon of Christ and the Church, an icon of utter self-sacrificing commitment. All sexual relations create a bond between partners: more is joined than bodies, and that has profound emotional, psychological, and spiritual implications. We live in a culture addicted to “casual, meaningless sex” and broken by that addiction. We have a better way, a discipline that promotes wholeness and integrity.

Then the author cautions us once again about greed — Hebrews 13:5 (ESV): 5 Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” — but I’ll pass over that since we have discussed it in some detail earlier.

Finally, the author moves to the inner dynamics of the Christian community:

Hebrews 13:7, 17 (ESV): 7 Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God. Consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith.

17 Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account. Let them do this with joy and not with groaning, for that would be of no advantage to you.

When a deacon or priest is ordained in our diocese, that ordinand must take an Oath of Canonical Obedience — both orally and in writing:

…I do promise, here in the presence of Almighty God and of the Church, that I will pay true and canonical obedience in all things lawful and honest to the Bishop of the Anglican Diocese of the South, and his successor, so help me God (BCP 2019, p. 485).

Now, most Christians are not ordained to vocational ministry, but the author still calls them to obedience to their spiritual leaders: not to abusive spiritual leaders or to manipulative ones, but to those way of life models that of Christ, whose faith is worth imitating, and who are caring for the souls of those for whom they have spiritual responsibility.

Conclusion

This must conclude our overview of the Epistle to the Hebrews in which we have considered the superiority of Christ: the superior revelation, the superior high priest, the superior sacrifice, and our superior response. I hope it has stirred in you a desire to explore this letter in more detail. It seems fitting to close with the final benediction of the letter itself:

Hebrews 13:20–21 (ESV): 20 Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, 21 equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in us that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever.

And the blessing of God Almighty — the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit — be among you and remain with you always. Amen.

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John Roop

Hebrews 9-10: Jesus, the Superior Yom Kippur Sacrifice

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

Almighty God, you gave your only Son to be for us both a sacrifice for sin and an example of godly living: Give us grace thankfully to receive his inestimable benefits, and daily to follow the blessed steps of his most holy life; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen (BCP 2019, p. 612).

Introduction

As you might guess, I drink a fair amount of coffee each day, not as much as when I worked for the government or for the school system, but a fair amount still. It has been said that a preacher is a machine for turning coffee into sermons; the same is true with teachers and lessons, at least in my case. I do not wash my cup after each refill; a coffee cup is like a cast iron skillet: too much cleaning kills the flavor. So, I generally do just a quick rinse every day or so. But, from time to time I notice that a more serious coffee stain has built up on the white inside of the cup; I know then that it is time for a deep cleansing to restore the cup to its pristine condition: soap and water and some scrubbing.

This same pattern can obtain with human relationships. Have you ever found yourself in a serious, heated argument with…well, it’s usually with a spouse over something that is really trivial, an argument whose intensity cannot in any way be justified by the triggering event? What is going on there? What has really made this relational landmine lethal is the accumulation of unresolved past hurts and slights and disagreements. They have built up; they have stained the relationship and only a deep emotional cleaning, only deep repentance and mutual forgiveness, will restore the relationship to its proper condition.

This pattern of accumulated stain or residue is fairly obvious in the physical and emotional realms of life, but what about in the spiritual realm? The disciplines and practices of the Church suggest that it is a spiritual phenomenon also. Each day in the Daily Office we confess our sin to God and read words of pardon. And yet, the weight of unresolved guilt and shame can — and for many does — accumulate until something more, a deeper cleansing, is required. And the Church provides for that in the Rite of Reconciliation of Penitents (Confession), in which one is encouraged to make a thorough self-examination and self-revelation so that the stain can be cleansed deeply; absolution the Church calls it. Or, on a more communal level, the Church offers the entire penitential season of Lent, a time for repentance, for setting aside harmful spiritual habits that have accumulated over the past year, for doing a thorough spiritual Spring Cleaning in preparation for Easter.

This understanding of the accumulating residue of sin and the practice of a deep cleansing of it — an atonement for it — were at the heart of the Jewish sacrificial system. Failure to account for the reality of the accumulated weight of sin, failure to deal with stain and residue of it, ultimately led to the exile first of Israel and then of Judah (see Lev 18:24-30, Num 35:30-34, Is 24:1-13, 2 Kings 17:1-23).

Here is the theological paradigm of sacrifice in simplified form.

It was, from the beginning, God’s intent to have a people for himself — all people ultimately — among whom he would dwell. That is the meaning of God’s rest on the seventh day of creation; God entered into his resting place, his habitation/abode in the midst of Eden with the proto-humans Adam and Eve. But, his presence with them — or their ability to remain in his presence — was contingent upon their obedience, their holiness. When they were disobedient, they were exiled outside the Garden, away from the immediate presence of God, not least for their own protection, lest they experience what some call “death by holiness,” the destruction of sinful man by the presence of a holy God.

Still, God’s intent to dwell among a people did not change. He created a people — through Abraham and his offspring — to be his own and among whom he might dwell. But, these people, too, bore the weight of sin. Those through whom God determined to resolve the sin problem were themselves part of the sin problem; the physicians were themselves infected with the terminal disease, so to speak.

So, God gave them a system for managing sin — not eliminating it, but managing it — so that he might dwell among them and they might live safely in his presence; God gave Israel the sacrificial system of the Law. There was a daily and seasonal round of sacrifices that, if I may use this language, “rinsed” the sins of the people much as I rinse my coffee cup. But, all that sin left a residue which accumulated over the course of a year until a deeper cleaning was required. This residue accumulated on the people, on the priests, on the tabernacle with its altar and other furnishings, on the mercy seat, on the land. And that had to be dealt with. Let’s try this analogy: think of the daily and seasonal round of sacrifices like a Dyson vacuum cleaner sucking up dirt and debris each week. Of course, all that “gunk” accumulates until finally the canister is full and must be emptied. How was the canister of Israel’s sin emptied each year? What act deep cleaned the residue of each year’s sin so that God and Israel might dwell together for another year? Yom Kippur — the Day of Atonement.

The ritual actions for this holiest day of the year are found in Leviticus 16; it is worth reading the entire chapter as the background for Hebrews. Since time won’t allow for that now, I will summarize.

Yom Kippur was the only day each year that anyone might enter the Holy of Holies and enter into the presence of God enthroned above the mercy seat. Only the high priest could do so and only with carefully prescribed sacrifices. He first offered a bull as a sin offering for his own sin and the sin of his house. He took the blood of the sacrifice and sprinkled it on the mercy seat. Then he offered a goat for the sins of the people and sprinkled its blood on the mercy seat in similar fashion. The high priest then moved outward from the Holy of Holies sprinkling blood and making atonement as he went:

Leviticus 16:16–19 (ESV): 16 Thus he shall make atonement for the Holy Place, because of the uncleannesses of the people of Israel and because of their transgressions, all their sins. And so he shall do for the tent of meeting, which dwells with them in the midst of their uncleannesses. 17 No one may be in the tent of meeting from the time he enters to make atonement in the Holy Place until he comes out and has made atonement for himself and for his house and for all the assembly of Israel. 18 Then he shall go out to the altar that is before the Lord and make atonement for it, and shall take some of the blood of the bull and some of the blood of the goat, and put it on the horns of the altar all around. 19 And he shall sprinkle some of the blood on it with his finger seven times, and cleanse it and consecrate it from the uncleannesses of the people of Israel.

There are other rites and rituals performed on the Day of Atonement, but they are all directed toward the same purpose: a deep cleansing from the residual stain of sin so that God might dwell with his people. Yom Kippur is as essential to the story of Israel as is the Passover. The Passover managed death; the Day of Atonement managed sin.

We are conditioned by the Gospels and by our liturgy to think of Jesus as the fulfillment of the Passover lamb. One of the earliest testimonies to Jesus, given by John the Baptist, was the proclamation: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29b)! And, at the Last Supper, Jesus enfolded the meaning of his death in the symbolic context of the Passover meal. In our own liturgy, at the fraction — the breaking of the bread — we say, “Alleluia! Christ our Passover Lamb has been sacrificed once for all upon the cross.” So, yes, Jesus is the reality that the signpost of the Passover lamb had been pointing toward throughout all those generations.

But, it is equally true — though rarely noted explicitly — that Jesus is also the fulfillment of the Yom Kippur bull and goat whose blood served to cleanse the Tabernacle, the people, and the land. And, in the overabundance of meaning characteristic of all things related to Jesus, he is not just the bull and goat, but also the great and final High Priest who offers the blood of the bull and goat as the atoning sacrifice. The author of Hebrews leaves the Passover symbolism to the rest of Scripture; his interest is in the Day of Atonement.

Hebrews 9: Christ as the Fulfillment of Yom Kippur

All this is the background for Hebrews 9 in which the author presents Christ as the fulfillment of the Day of Atonement and thus of the entire sacrificial system.

Hebrews 9:1–10 (ESV): 9 Now even the first covenant had regulations for worship and an earthly place of holiness. 2 For a tent was prepared, the first section, in which were the lampstand and the table and the bread of the Presence. It is called the Holy Place. 3 Behind the second curtain was a second section called the Most Holy Place, 4 having the golden altar of incense and the ark of the covenant covered on all sides with gold, in which was a golden urn holding the manna, and Aaron’s staff that budded, and the tablets of the covenant. 5 Above it were the cherubim of glory overshadowing the mercy seat. Of these things we cannot now speak in detail.

6 These preparations having thus been made, the priests go regularly into the first section, performing their ritual duties, 7 but into the second only the high priest goes, and he but once a year, and not without taking blood, which he offers for himself and for the unintentional sins of the people. 8 By this the Holy Spirit indicates that the way into the holy places is not yet opened as long as the first section is still standing 9 (which is symbolic for the present age). According to this arrangement, gifts and sacrifices are offered that cannot perfect the conscience of the worshiper, 10 but deal only with food and drink and various washings, regulations for the body imposed until the time of reformation.

Let’s draw just a couple of major points from this passage. First, as long as the tabernacle stands with its veil of separation between the Holy Place and the Most Holy Place, as long as the Yom Kippur ritual is restricted to the human high priest on just one day each year, as long as the blood of bulls and goats is the only sacrifice offered, it all stands as witness of the impossibility of God dwelling fully among his people and of the people’s ready access to God. Further, the annual repetition of the sacrifice means that sin has only been managed temporarily and not dealt with once for all. The blood of bulls and goats can temporarily cleanse the worshippers, but it cannot solve the deeper sin issue; it cannot perfect the conscience. But, after all, these sacrifices were never intended to deal fully and finally with sin. They pointed toward the final Yom Kippur sacrifice in Christ. And it is to that reality that the author turns his attention.

Hebrews 9:11–14 (ESV): 11 But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and more perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation) 12 he entered once for all into the holy places, not by means of the blood of goats and calves but by means of his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption. 13 For if the blood of goats and bulls, and the sprinkling of defiled persons with the ashes of a heifer, sanctify for the purification of the flesh, 14 how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to serve the living God.

Hebrews 9:24–28 (ESV): 24 For Christ has entered, not into holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true things, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf. 25 Nor was it to offer himself repeatedly, as the high priest enters the holy places every year with blood not his own, 26 for then he would have had to suffer repeatedly since the foundation of the world. But as it is, he has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. 27 And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment, 28 so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.

The high priest enters into a replica — a copy — of the holy places year after year with the blood of bulls and goats to offer a temporary sacrifice for the cleansing of the people’s sin. But that sacrifice has no power to defeat sin or to change the heart of the people; rather it manages sin and reminds people of it. But Christ, the Great High Priest, enters into the reality of which the earthly tabernacle was but a shadow. And he enters both as priest and sacrifice, the High Priest bringing with him his own blood to make eternal redemption, to deal with the problem of sin once for all, and to purify the conscience — to transform the inner person — of all people whom he represents before the living God. That means that Christ’s priesthood is superior to the Levitical priesthood, as the author has already argued, and that his sacrifice is superior to those prescribed by the Law. The author summarizes that argument in Heb 10:1-18, which I commend to your reading.

I’ve noted that we most generally identify Jesus’s sacrifice as the fulfillment of the Passover lamb, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. But, I’ve also argued, along with the author of Hebrews, that Jesus must also be seen as the Yom Kippur bull and goat. I would argue further that these two great festivals come crashing together in the Passion-Resurrection-Ascension narrative, that they are fulfilled there.

There is an interesting exchange between Jesus and Mary Magdalene on the morning of the resurrection:

John 20:16–18 (ESV): 16 Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned and said to him in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher). 17 Jesus said to her, “Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ ” 18 Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”—and that he had said these things to her.

It seems from this passage that Jesus’s work of atonement is not yet complete and will not be until he ascends to his Father. We often think of the Ascension of Jesus in terms of his enthronement at the right hand of God; N. T. Wright even argues that Christ the King Sunday is superfluous — and even misleading — because we already celebrated his enthronement earlier in the liturgical year on the feast of the Ascension. But that is not all that the Ascension is. Before it is the enthronement of the King, it is the entry of the Great High Priest into the Holy Places in heaven where he presents his own blood for the atonement of the whole world. And that makes possible God’s dwelling among his people in the Person of the Holy Spirit: hence Pentecost immediately following the Ascension.

Now, all of this has great implications for us. The Yom Kippur sacrifices still left a barrier between God and man. The high priest could not enter the Most Holy Place for another year and the people could not enter either of the holy places. But, with the fulfillment of Yom Kippur in Jesus, the barrier was removed.

Hebrews 10:19–22 (ESV): 19 Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, 20 by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, 21 and since we have a great priest over the house of God, 22 let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.

The purpose of the Yom Kippur sacrifices was never to bring the people directly into the presence of God, but that is precisely the purpose and the effect of Jesus’s sacrifice. Our access to God is always mediated through Jesus, but it is direct access nonetheless; we can come confidently before God. This is precisely what we say in the Eucharistic liturgy each week:

As our great high priest, he ascended to your right hand in glory, that we might come with confidence before the throne of grace (BCP 2019, p.133).

So, to those Jewish Christians who might be contemplating a return to Judaism, the author reminds them of just what they are giving up: access to the holy places, direct communion with God the Father through the great High Priest Jesus Christ. We are to draw near to God (1) with a true heart, (2) in full assurance of faith, (3) with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience, and (4) with our bodies washed with pure water. Let’s think of these requirements from the standpoint of the original audience of the epistle:

True heart: not a heart divided between the Law and the Gospel, between Judaism and Christianity

Full assurance of faith: not wavering between works and faith but trusting entirely in the completed work of Christ

Hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience: with the inner transforming power of Christ’s sacrifice, with God’s law now written on our hearts

Bodies washed with pure water: with the cleansing that comes not from outer washings of the Law but from baptism into Christ

And now the author encourages those who might be wavering to hang on, not just in faith, but also in practice.

Hebrews 10:23–25 (ESV): 23 Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. 24 And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, 25 not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.

Apparently, some of the audience of the epistle was beginning to absent itself from the Sunday Eucharist, neglecting to meet together on the appointed day. The author emphasizes that when life is hard, when we are suffering or facing persecution or wavering in our faith — as was the case with the audience of this epistle — we particularly need one another and the encouragement that comes from being part of a body. So we meet together, we stir up a spirit of love and good works in one another. Whether the “Day” to which the author refers is Sunday, the day of meeting, or the coming day of the Lord when Jesus returns is not clear; perhaps it’s both. But the message is the same either way: hang on, meet together, encourage one another. This is certainly a message for the Western Church today when attendance is plummeting and is seen as optional, at best. So dies the faith and so dies the Church.

What follows next is very sobering and cautionary. What of those who, having been Christ followers, have now abandoned the faith and returned to Judaism?

Hebrews 10:26–31 (ESV): 26 For if we go on sinning deliberately after receiving the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins, 27 but a fearful expectation of judgment, and a fury of fire that will consume the adversaries. 28 Anyone who has set aside the law of Moses dies without mercy on the evidence of two or three witnesses. 29 How much worse punishment, do you think, will be deserved by the one who has trampled underfoot the Son of God, and has profaned the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has outraged the Spirit of grace? 30 For we know him who said, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay.” And again, “The Lord will judge his people.” 31 It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

Suppose a Christ follower returns to Judaism. He will find in the Law no effective sacrifice for sins — as the author has been arguing — and so he will go on deliberately sinning. That way leads to judgment and punishment, not least because it is a repudiation of Christ, a proclamation that his blood his worthless. It is an outrage to and thus a sin against the Holy Spirit. And, as Jesus himself made clear, blasphemy against the Holy Spirit is not a sin that will be forgiven. This pulling back from the Church, this distancing of oneself from Christ is a life-and-death matter, not a viable option.

The author ends this section with a reminder of his audience’s former devotion and an encouragement to return to that same commitment.

Hebrews 10:32–36 (ESV): 32 But recall the former days when, after you were enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, 33 sometimes being publicly exposed to reproach and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated. 34 For you had compassion on those in prison, and you joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one. 35 Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. 36 For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised.

The author speaks of former days after their enlightenment. “Enlightenment” is baptismal language; the early Church spoke of baptism and chrismation (the anointing with oil for the gift of the Holy Spirit) as enlightenment. So, he is calling them to remember the time of their initiation into Christ, the early days of first and fervent devotion. He reminds them of how difficult it was: hard struggle, suffering, reproach, affliction, imprisonment, loss of property. But they happily endured those things because of the superiority of Christ and because of the great reward promised them in Christ. So, why do they seem on the verge of throwing away their confidence now? Nothing in Christ has changed. He will come. They will receive what he has promised if they endure.

Hebrews 10:37–38 (ESV): 37 For, “Yet a little while, and the coming one will come and will not delay; 38 but my righteous one shall live by faith, and if he shrinks back, my soul has no pleasure in him.”

The author immediately follows this cautionary word with an encouraging and hopeful one. It may be more prayer than actual observation.

Hebrews 10:39 (ESV): 39 But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who have faith and preserve their souls.

That expresses the reason for which this letter is written: an encouragement not to shrink back — to return to Judaism — but rather to press on in the faith.

Discussion

All this may seem like an interesting bit of cultural theology; at least, I hope it was interesting. But what does it mean for us in a far different culture?

How many of you were raised in church? What was the prevailing attitude toward God in the church of your youth? How would you describe your church’s understanding of the relationship between you and God: “warm and fuzzy” — cozy, distant, abstract, loving, fearful?

What did you call the main worship area of your church, what we call the nave here? In the Christian Church of my youth, we called it the “sanctuary.” I honestly never thought much about the connotations of that word when I was younger: did you? What does it connote to you now? Sanctuary comes from the Latin “sanctus” which means “holy.” The sanctuary, literally, is the holy place. But what else does sanctuary connote? If you’ve seen Disney’s version of the Hunchback of Notre Dame, you know. Sanctuary connotes a refuge, a safe place. I would suggest that this double connotation is true, but that it is only true because of Jesus. The holy place — the place where God dwells — can also be the safe place for us only because of Jesus and his great act of atonement for us in the last, great Yom Kippur.

Can you imagine being part of the Exodus generation. The tabernacle, with its sanctuary — its holy place — was set in the center of the people with the tribes camped round about. It was the place where God dwelt among his people. It was holy, certainly. But, was it safe? Was God safe? The whole edifice of the Law, the whole structure of the tabernacle suggested that God was not safe, or rather that because of sin it was not safe for man to enter into God’s presence. The sanctuary was a holy place, but not a safe place — not until Jesus. Jesus’s atoning sacrifice — this final Yom Kippur — both purified us and brought down the barriers between God and man so that the heavenly sanctuary — the heavenly holy place — might also be the heavenly refuge and place of safety for all those in Christ Jesus, for all those to whom his purifying blood has been applied. That is as true for us now as it was for Israel then. That’s what the author of Hebrews is defending. That is, in part, how it applies to us.

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John Roop

Hebrews 1-3: Jesus as the Superior Revelation

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

Almighty and everlasting God, whose will it is to restore all things in your well-beloved Son, the King of kings and Lord or lords: Mercifully grant that the peoples of the earth, divided and enslaved by sin, may be freed and brought together under his most gracious rule; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Introduction
To begin, a quote from C. S. Lewis:

Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important (C. S. Lewis, God In the Dock).

That is a classical and brilliant bit of Lewisian reasoning, but is it correct? From a theological perspective, I think it is. But, from a more existential perspective, from the perspective of lived experience, I’m not so sure. Let’s take it statement at a time.

First: Christianity, if false, is of no importance. That was the conviction of the new atheists championed by the Four Horsemen of that movement — Dawkins, Harris, Hitchens, and Dennett — and many others during their heyday in the decade and a half following September 11, 2001. But the new atheism proved to be not new at all, just warmed over ideas presented with sarcasm, bitterness, and mockery. It could not — and ultimately did not — stand up to scrutiny. But, more importantly, it could not provide a foundation for building a culture or a meaningful life. Now, some prominent atheist and agnostic thinkers — including Dawkins, historian Tom Holland, psychologist Jordan Peterson — conclude that all that is best in Western culture is absolutely dependent upon Christianity; some now even describe themselves as cultural Christians. So, even though they think Christianity is false, they think it is of great importance for culture building and stability and for the moral and ethical foundation of life.

Second: Christianity, if true is of ultimate importance. I suspect that many Christians — those who accept the truth of the faith — would agree wholeheartedly with that statement. But, would the evidence of their lives support their conviction? What does their actual practice and devotion suggest as their highest good: self, family, success, comfort, money, power, pleasure, honor, political party? Christianity, accepted as true, is still not always treated as of ultimate importance. Instead, the evidence suggests that it is the third option — the only one Lewis says in not viable — that is actually the one most nearly true: for many, Christianity, even accepted as true, is yet only moderately important. Lewis is perfectly logical and perfectly reasonable, but people do not readily follow the dictates of such logic. Lewis argues what should be, not what actually is.

Now, imagine being a first century Palestinian Jew presented with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. If the proclamation is false, it is of no importance at all, except perhaps in a negative sense; it may be blasphemous and misleading and worthy of opposition. That is certainly what Saul of Tarsus thought. But, what if on second or third hearing you find yourself believing it? What if you find your mind and heart opened to see Jesus as the messiah, as the fulfillment of the Covenants and the Law and the Prophets, the story of Israel brought to its proper conclusion? For those raised on the Shema — raised to love God with all one’s heart, soul, and might — then the Gospel might well be of ultimate importance and demand ultimate allegiance.

If so, how would that affect their lived experience? From what we can discern from historical writing, these Jewish Christians lived what we might call a double life, though to them it was just life; they were both orthodox Jews and faithful Christians. In fact, they were orthodox Jews precisely by being faithful Christians. That means that they would have maintained many of their Jewish customs and much of their Jewish worship. They would have kept kosher, circumcised their male children, observed the Sabbath, and worshipped in the Temple. But, they also would have worshipped with the church, likely in a home during the early years of the faith, on Sunday and perhaps at other times during the week. Those Christian gatherings would have included the Apostle’s teaching, the fellowship, the breaking of bread, and the prayers. At first, these would have been exclusively Jewish gatherings so that they were seen as simply an extenuation of Jewish life and worship. To get a sense of this integrated Jewish-Christian life, you might read the Benedictus (the Song of Zechariah) followed immediately by the Apostles Creed as we often do in Morning Prayer.

And that synthesis worked until it didn’t: until there grew increasing pressure from Rome to distinguish between Jews, an ancient and tolerated religion, and this upstart Christian group which was de-stablizing the Roman culture; until the larger Jewish community began to grow first skeptical and then hostile toward the Christians; until Gentiles began first to trickle in and then flood into the Church. So, pressures grew on the Jewish Christians to pick a side.

So, what were the options for a Jewish-Christian? Let me suggest three, based on Lewis’s trichotomy of no importance, ultimate importance, or moderate importance.

One might decide that the Gospel was not true after all and simply return to a full embrace of Second Temple Judaism sans Messiah. Christianity is false and is of no importance.

Or, one might decide that, since the Gospel is true, it is of ultimate importance and that full allegiance must be given to the Christian community. If it is no longer possible to maintain ties with those Jews who do not accept the Messiah, then so be it: as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord Jesus.

There is a third option: one could simply tone the Christian thing down a bit — stop talking so much about Jesus, stop going to the Sunday meetings, stop celebrating the Eucharist. It is not required to renounce Jesus, just to make him of moderate importance and to have one’s primary allegiance be with the Jewish community. That would really make life much simpler: the conflict with the Jewish community would end, the toleration from the Roman authorities would increase, and one could still be a Christian of sorts, just not fanatical, just not overtly. Of course, it is not far from this course to a total abandonment of the Christian faith.

It seems to be this latter group — those Jewish Christians who are tempted to see Jesus as only a moderately important add-on to Judaism — to whom the author of Hebrews addresses himself. His — and I am presuming that the author is male — his strategy is to show how Jesus is superior to the central elements of Judaism, how Jesus is the fulfillment of all the central elements of Judaism, and is thus of ultimate — not moderate — importance.

It would be interesting to explore some of the questions of authorship and dating surrounding this epistle, but we only have four class sessions, and it is more important, I think, to plunge headlong into the text letting this brief introduction suffice. I will simply say that God alone knows the author. To avoid the awkward wordiness of saying “the author of Hebrews” throughout these sessions, I will just say “Hebrews” or “the author.” The recipients are almost certainly Jewish-Christians in Palestine who are under a fair bit of pressure/persecution. The date of writing is almost certainly before the destruction of the Temple in 70 A.D. since portions of the book assume Temple worship.

Just a note about what we can and cannot do in this class. We have only four weeks allotted to us, and that makes a detailed study of the whole of Hebrews impossible. So, instead, I will try to develop four major themes of the epistle that are, I think, true to its purpose and also meaningful for us in our context. That means that many of your favorite passages will lie unexplored — mine, too. That is regrettable, but also unavoidable. Think of this class as a preview to entice you into your own study of the epistle.

Hebrews 1-3: Jesus as the Superior Revelation

How can we know about God? In what ways has he revealed himself to us?

A good Second Temple Jew might have answered these questions by quoting Psalm 19:

1 The heavens declare the glory of God, *
and the firmament shows his handiwork.

2 One day speaks to another, *
and one night gives knowledge to another.

3 There is neither speech nor language, *
and their voices are not heard;

4 But their sound has gone out into all lands, *
and their words to the ends of the world.

5 In them he has set a tent for the sun, *
which comes forth as a bridegroom out of his chamber, and rejoices like a strong man to run his course.

6 It goes forth from the uttermost part of the heavens, and runs about to the end of it again, *
and there is nothing hidden from its heat.

7 The law of the Lᴏʀᴅ is perfect, reviving the soul; *
the testimony of the Lᴏʀᴅ is sure, and gives wisdom to the simple.

8 The statutes of the Lᴏʀᴅ are right, and rejoice the heart; *
the commandment of the Lᴏʀᴅ is pure, and gives light to the eyes.

9 The fear of the Lᴏʀᴅ is clean, and endures for ever; *
the judgments of the Lᴏʀᴅ are true, and righteous altogether.

10 More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; *
sweeter also than honey, than the drippings from the honeycomb.

11 Moreover, by them is your servant taught, *
and in keeping them there is great reward.

12 Who can tell how often he offends? *
O cleanse me from my secret faults.

13 Keep your servant also from presumptuous sins, lest they get the dominion over me; *
so shall I be undefiled, and innocent of great offense.

14 Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be always acceptable in your sight, *
O Lᴏʀᴅ, my rock and my redeemer (BCP 2019, pp. 289-290).

So, what are the two most fundamental sources of revelation we have? Nature and the Law, with the Law taken in a broad sense to mean God’s special revelation of himself to Israel in covenant, Exodus, Law, prophets — all the different means God used to make himself know to his people.

Let’s take these two, nature and Law, in turn. What can we know about God through nature? St. Paul takes up that question in Romans:

Romans 1:18–20 (ESV): 18 For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. 19 For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. 20 For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse.

So, what does nature tell us about God? That God is, but that his existence is not like ours; his nature is divine, of a different order than ours. He is not directly visible to us, but we infer his attributes from what is seen. God is eternal and he is powerful. What we cannot know from nature is whether God is good or just or merciful or loving. Nature — red of tooth and claw — is ambiguous on all that. The evidence is so ambiguous to some that they reach a different conclusion about the existence of God entirely. Richard Dawkins, an evolutionary biologist and one of the Four Horsemen of the New Atheists, wrote this in his book Out of Eden:

The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is at bottom no design, no purpose, no evil, no good, nothing but blind, pitiless indifference.

Of course, St. Paul would contend that Dawkins knows better and is simply suppressing the truth. And, Dawkins himself acknowledges that he interprets nature this way in large part as a matter of preference; he prefers a natural explanation to a supernatural one.

So, we — at least the Jews — turn from the general revelation of nature to the specific revelation made through calling/election, covenant, Exodus, Law, prophets, all of which is summarized under the general heading of Law. This adds specificity to our understanding of God’s nature; we can now know him as good and just and merciful and loving and frightening and wrathful and jealous. In other words, we can know him not as a thing, but as a person, as the Person among persons.

That — the Law — is a great step forward in knowing about God. But even the Law placed God’s people at one degree of separation from God; there was always an intermediary between God and man, always a barrier of separation. You can think of the barrier as the sin of man or else as the righteousness of God, but either way the knowledge was direct but mediated. As we will see, the mediators were the angels. That is where Judaism leaves us. But what of Christianity?

Hebrews 1:1–4 (ESV): 1 Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, 2 but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world. 3 He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high, 4 having become as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs.

In the past, God spoke many words in many ways to his people, summarized here under the term “the prophets.” But all of these communications were mediated, at one degree of separation at least. But now at last in the Son — in Jesus — we have the unmediated, unseparated perfect revelation of God himself to us: the radiance of the glory of God — the shekinah, the settling or dwelling place of God’s glory in flesh — and the imprint of his nature, the character of his Personhood. The one through whom the cosmos was created, the one who presently holds all things in being, the one who made purification for sins so that the wall of separation between God and man was eliminated, that one has made God known by making himself known. So, faith in Jesus offers a superior revelation than what is on offer in Judaism. Why embrace the shadow when we have the light? Why mess around with maps when we can live in the territory itself?

One way the author shows the superiority of the revelation we have in Christ is to insist that Christ is superior to the angels: “having become as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs.”

Hebrews 1:5–14 (ESV): 5 For to which of the angels did God ever say, “You are my Son, today I have begotten you”? Or again, “I will be to him a father, and he shall be to me a son”?

6 And again, when he brings the firstborn into the world, he says, “Let all God’s angels worship him.”

7 Of the angels he says, “He makes his angels winds, and his ministers a flame of fire.” 8 But of the Son he says, “Your throne, O God, is forever and ever, the scepter of uprightness is the scepter of your kingdom. 9 You have loved righteousness and hated wickedness; therefore God, your God, has anointed you with the oil of gladness beyond your companions.”

10 And, “You, Lord, laid the foundation of the earth in the beginning, and the heavens are the work of your hands; 11 they will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment, 12 like a robe you will roll them up, like a garment they will be changed. But you are the same, and your years will have no end.”

13 And to which of the angels has he ever said, “Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet”?

14 Are they not all ministering spirits sent out to serve for the sake of those who are to inherit salvation?

Why all the talk of angels? Though it is not clear from Scripture itself, there was a common understanding among Second Temple Jews that God gave the Law to Moses not directly, but rather through the mediation of angels. That is the view of the Book of Jubilees, an apocryphal Jewish work from the first century B.C. or quite possibly earlier. That work was well known by the early Christians and Church Fathers, and the notion that angels were intermediaries between God and man is accepted and stated in Scripture: see Acts 7:53 (St. Stephen’s speech) and Galatians 3:19.

So, the author takes this tack: to show the superiority of the revelation of Jesus over that of the prophets it is enough to show that Jesus is a superior mediator over the angels. His argument has these points:

Jesus is the Son; the angels worship him and serve him.

The Lord is eternal in a way that the angels are not.

The Son sits at the right hand of God — the position of power and authority and rule — while the angels are his ministering spirits.

The author’s point is simple: a better mediator implies a better revelation. He continues this theme in what is for us chapter 2.

Hebrews 2:1–4 (ESV): Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. 2 For since the message declared by angels proved to be reliable, and every transgression or disobedience received a just retribution, 3 how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation? It was declared at first by the Lord, and it was attested to us by those who heard, 4 while God also bore witness by signs and wonders and various miracles and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his will.

In Heb 2:1 we see a summary of the purpose of the epistle. If I may use anachronistic language, the author says, “The Christian revelation is superior to the Jewish revelation — as Jesus is superior to the angels — and you must not drift away from it.” We are back to where we started: this superior revelation cannot be merely moderately important. If Jews were accountable to God for keeping the Law mediated by angels, how much more will those who have received the revelation through Christ be accountable if they neglect it — relegate it to unimportant status?

Now it is as if the author anticipates some “push back” against his assertion that Jesus is superior to the angels. What is the apparently weak point in his argument? Jesus’s humanity and his suffering on the cross. He didn’t look superior to the angels and the notion of a suffering, crucified Messiah is foolishness to the Greeks and a stumbling block to the Jews.

This has always been a sticking point in the proclamation of Jesus. The author does not shy away from this objection but instead grasps the nettle with this argument.

It is true that we did not see Jesus in his glory, nor do we see clear evidence of his present reign over all things. Instead, we saw his humanity in which he was made, for a time, lower than the angels so that he might be the perfect representative of mankind, so that he might taste death for everyone and destroy death, so that he might sanctify mankind, and so that he might become the great high priest for those whom he calls brothers. This last notion of the high priest is a preview of coming attractions.

So, the author argues that what we saw of Jesus is fitting, that it makes narrative sense: the Son of God becoming fully human — apart from personal sin — to save humans, and then himself to be exalted to God’s right hand where he continues to intercede for those he calls brothers. There is nothing quite like that is Judaism.

Now, the author has established that Jesus is superior to the angels. If the Law — the revelation — they mediated is worthy of attention, then how much more the revelation given in and through the Son. But there is a more towering presence in the history of God’s revelation to his people, more central than angels, the most prominent figure in Jewish thought: Moses. How does Jesus fair in comparison to Moses?

Hebrews 3:1–6 (ESV): Therefore, holy brothers, you who share in a heavenly calling, consider Jesus, the apostle and high priest of our confession, 2 who was faithful to him who appointed him, just as Moses also was faithful in all God’s house. 3 For Jesus has been counted worthy of more glory than Moses—as much more glory as the builder of a house has more honor than the house itself. 4 (For every house is built by someone, but the builder of all things is God.) 5 Now Moses was faithful in all God’s house as a servant, to testify to the things that were to be spoken later, 6 but Christ is faithful over God’s house as a son. And we are his house, if indeed we hold fast our confidence and our boasting in our hope.

Let’s paint this picture in broad strokes. Think of God’s people — first Israel, later the Jews, and now the Jewish Christ-followers — as a household, an extended family. The household needed a patriarch: someone to care for it, provide for it, protect it. The paradigm of that patriarch under the Law was Moses. And yet, he wasn’t the patriarch — the father — in the full classical sense for one primary reason: the household was not his. He didn’t create it; it didn’t belong to him. As Moses often reminded God — particularly when he was weary or disgruntled — the people were God’s people, God’s burden to bear. So, what then was Moses’ position in the household? He was a faithful servant, a surrogate for the Patriarch, and he is worthy of honor for his faithful service.

But, there is a new household now, visibly smaller but potentially much more expansive — the household of those faithful Jews who follow Jesus. Who is the patriarch of this family? Not Moses, but Jesus. It is God — and remember that Jesus is the Son of God, is God incarnate — who has created this household. The Messiah/Christ is the faithful patriarch of it not as a servant, but as the Son, not as a surrogate for the patriarch, but as the patriarch himself. Therefore, Jesus is counted worthy of more glory than Moses.

The blessing of being part of this household comes with a caution, with a warning: And we are his house, if indeed we hold fast our confidence and our boasting in our hope (Heb 3:6b). Membership in the family is conditional.

The author reminds his readers that this same conditional membership obtained with Israel under Moses. Those who hardened their hearts in the wilderness, those who rebelled and provoked the Lord, died in the wilderness and did not enter the promised rest (see Heb 3:7-11). And that is a cautionary tale for those who have begun to follow Christ but are now look backward longingly toward Judaism as the Hebrews looked back longingly toward Egypt:

Hebrews 3:12–15 (ESV): 12 Take care, brothers, lest there be in any of you an evil, unbelieving heart, leading you to fall away from the living God. 13 But exhort one another every day, as long as it is called “today,” that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. 14 For we have come to share in Christ, if indeed we hold our original confidence firm to the end. 15 As it is said, “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion.”

Stay the course. Do not let Jesus become only moderately important or, worse still, of no importance whatsoever. What you have in Jesus is vastly superior to what you seem to have left behind: Jesus is superior to the angels, superior to Moses, and the household you have entered is superior to the household you left behind.

Conclusion
So, what does this have to do with us?

The great temptation of the world, the flesh, and the devil is not so much focused on getting us to renounce Jesus entirely, it seems to me, but rather on getting us to relegate Jesus to the moderately important category, on getting us to build our lives around something or someone else and then fitting Jesus into our lives when and where and if it is convenient. So, my focus is on building my career, raising my family, checking off items on my bucket list — all while affirming my faith in Jesus, of course, and even practicing that faith when it doesn’t interfere with my career, my family, my bucket list. It is not that these other things are bad — angel intermediaries weren’t bad, Moses wasn’t bad, Israel wasn’t bad — but rather that they are not ultimate. The challenge is to recognize Jesus as superior to all things and to let that recognition shape our lives. As C. S. Lewis wrote:

The longer I looked into it the more I came to suspect that I was perceiving a universal law… The woman who makes a dog the centre of her life loses, in the end, not only her human usefulness and dignity but even the proper pleasure of dog-keeping. The man who makes alcohol his chief good loses not only his job but his palate and all power of enjoying the earlier (and only pleasurable) levels of intoxication. It is a glorious thing to feel for a moment or two that the whole meaning of the universe is summed up in one woman — glorious so long as other duties and pleasures keep tearing you away from her. But clear the decks and so arrange your life (it is sometimes feasible) that you will have nothing to do but contemplate her, and what happens?

Of course this law has been discovered before, but it will stand re-discovery. It may be stated as follows: every preference of a small good to a great, or partial good to a total good, involves the loss of the small or partial good for which the sacrifice is made.

Apparently the world is made that way… You can’t get second things by putting them first; you can get second things only by putting first things first (C. S. Lewis, “First and Second Things,” God in the Dock (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1970), pp. 278-280).

You may know that I am critical of the theology expressed in many old hymns and the lack of theology expressed in most new ones. But there is an old American Spiritual I first heard sung by Fernando Ortega that summarizes the purpose of this portion of Hebrews quite well. The very simple chorus says:

Give me Jesus.
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
But give me Jesus.