Use Lent to systematically “put off” the deeds of the flesh, so that you can enter into Easter by “putting on” the fruits of the Spirit. –Peter Leithart
Lenten Quote, Day 10
We acknowledge Lent in the same way and for the same reason we have a time of Confession at the beginning of each worship service. There is a time for lament over sins; there is a time for mourning our own depravity. But lament and mourning ought not choke out rejoicing in the goodness of God. –Peter Leithart
The Tree of Death and Salvation
Peter Leithart beautifully contrasts the tree of Eden and the tree of Calvary:
Adam fell at a tree, and by a tree he was saved. At a tree Eve was seduced, and through a tree the bride was restored to her husband. At a tree, Satan defeated Adam; on a tree Jesus destroyed the works of the devil. At a tree man died, but by Jesus’ death we live. At a tree God cursed, and through a tree that curse gave way to blessing. God exiled Adam from the tree of life; on a tree the Last Adam endured exile so that we might inherit the earth
Lenten Quotes, Day 6
Lent is a season for taking stock and cleaning house, a time of self-examination, confession and repentance. But we need to remind ourselves constantly what true repentance looks like. “Giving up” something for Lent is fine, but you keep Lent best by making war on all the evil habits and sinful desires that prevent you from running the race with patience.
Lent is a season for joy also because it is a motif in a larger composition. The rhythm of the church year follows the rhythm of the Lord’s day service. Each week, we pass through a small “Lenten” moment in our liturgy, as we kneel for confession. But we don’t kneel through the whole service, and in the same way we don’t observe the fast forever.
–Peter Leithart
Lenten Quote, Day 4
From the earliest ages, Christians have sought ways to soften the offense of the cross. Most of the Christological heresies of the early church arose not so much from philosophical speculation as from the effort to avoid the madness of a crucified Savior. Yet, this is the madness we confess, and celebrate, during Lent. We are the people of a crucified God, and as we confess the cross we also confess that the weakness of God is stronger than men, His folly wiser than all human wisdom, His madness saner than the clean sanity of all sophisticates of every age. –Peter Leithart
Concerning the Dating of Revelation
In a revealing article tracing the Domitianic date of Revelation back to JB Lightfoot (who, ironically, agreed with the 19th-century consensus that the book was written before 70), Christian Wilson notes that confidence in a date in the 90s increased after the first generation of English commentators adopted it at the beginning of the 20th century (Charles, Swete, Beckwith especially).
Wilson observes: “Confidence could still be seen in a commentary such as that of G.R. Beasley-Murray in 1974, who argues simply ‘Christian tradition unanimously represents Domitian to be the first persecutor of Christians after Nero.’” He wryly comments, “This statement is correct if by unanimous Christian tradition one means Eusebius.”
Of EF Scott’s 1940 statement that the book was written in 96, under Domitian, when “the church was subjected to the first serious persecution, which raged most fiercely in Asia minor, and was occasioned by the Christian refusal to worship the emperor,” Wilson says that “Not a single point in Scott’s statement is accurate.”
With Yabro Collins, we have the odd situation of a scholar who has abandoned the notion of a Domitianic persecution yet still clings to a Domitianic date for the book. ”Perceived” crisis and “relative” deprivation motivates the millennial vision: “the crucial element is not so much whether one is actually oppressed as whether one feels oppressed.” Wilson comments that she has trouble finding any specific “traumatic” events to pin the book to. She relies instead on later evidence (Trajan-Pliny) and on earlier evidence, oddly enough on evidence from the Neronian persecution and the destruction of the temple. In other words, Revelation itself seems to fit best in the 60s, but Yabro Collins remains convinced on other grounds that the book is from the 90s.
Leithart on rods of measuring…
In Revelation 11, John is given a rod to measure out the courts of the temple. That picks up on the imagery of Ezekiel 40ff, where a bronze man measures out the holy space of the new temple.
But there are other rods in the Old Testament. Egypt is a rod (Ezkiel 29:6), an unreliable rod that will only pierce the hand of Israel if they choose to lean on it. And behind that is the rod of Moses, used for “measuring” judgment to the Egyptians. That imagery is linked too to the imagery of the plumb line that tests whether Israel is “square” or not.
Rods have at least a double connotation – measuring holy space and carrying out judgments – and these two associations overlap, since it is the Holy One who does righteousness.
Leithart on Iconoclastic Charity
Muir again: “Images . . . ate up pious resources that could better be spent in assisting the poor, whom Zwingli described as the true ‘image’ of God. The hope of reformers such as Zwingli was that the assets devoted to paying for religious images, endowing perpetual masses, and supplying the ritual props of the liturgy could be transformed into ‘food of the poor.’ The true pious work of the Christian shifted from fulfilling certain ritual duties to fulfilling charitable obligations. Iconoclastic reformers destroyed oil lamps that required continual feeding, forbade expensive candles, and removed crucifixes to sell the wood as lumber, the proceeds from which became alms for the poor. Rather than the consequence of an irrational destructive urge, iconoclasm can be seen as part of a vast social project that reoriented Christian work toward solving the practical problems of the community. Charity became the pious alternative for image veneration.”
Up with iconoclasm! And, while we’re at it, kudos to Zwingli!
And Calvin too, whom Muir quotes to this effect:
“When I ponder the intended use of churches, somehow or other it seems to me unworthy of their holiness for them to take on images other than those that are living and iconic, which the Lord has consecrated by his Word. I mean Baptism and the Lord’s Supper, together with other ceremonies by which our eyes must be too intensely gripped and too sharply affected to seek other images forged by human ingenuity.”
Muir says that Calvin “wanted Christians to look at one another during church services rather than at alluring images.”
I reserve a cheer from Calvin, for two reasons: First, because he goes too far in excluding visual beauty altogether; second, because he unfortunately has subsumed sacramental actions under the heading of “visible words,” icons to be seen rather than acts to be done. Still, his main point is exactly right: The living, active images are the main ones, the ones for whom and for which churches are built.
Leithart on the Development of Doctrine
Does the church have a finished, changeless confession? No. Will it ever? No. Because the Head of the Church is a living Lord, and being alive means having the capacity to surprise (Jenson). As the living Lord, Jesus speaks through and to His church according to her needs, and the world’s.
Does this mean that doctrine is a wax nose, a free-for-all? No. Because the living Lord who is Head of the Church is utterly faithful. His Yes is Yes, His No No.
Constantine and Signs…
Peter Leithart observes in Defending Constantine:
If David Petraeus had recommended a surge in Iraq had recommended a surge in Iraq based on an eclipse or a sign in the heavens, he would have been forced into psychiatric treatment, followed by early retirement. Constantine, though, was a fourth-century Roman who, like everyone else in his time, believed that the gods guide humanity with signs and portents. He saw something, something he interpreted as a sign that committing himself to the God of the Christians would give him victory (79).