... things into which
angels long to look
Stephen
Curkpatrick
There is a curious phenomenon
concerning Christian Scripture: if the last part of our Scriptures were ceased
to be read, the first part could be made to say almost anything. If the last part
is heard, the first part everywhere gives hints and testimony to the need for
this slender but crucial last part—things of which the prophets made careful
search and inquiry … things into which angels long to look (I Pet.).
Prophetic testimony is given to days
that are coming when God will be the source of a new level of engagement with
the good and the true as a possibility inscribed on human hearts. This possibility
is given by God alone as the one able to rewrite the human heart—also attested
by the same prophet as being desperately deceitful yet entirely culpable.
Jeremiah gives testimony to another
kind of writing—transformative writing—not on stone but in the inner being of
humans. The heart is inscribed by God in an intimacy that by-passes the privileged
criteria of knowledge and information. This writing is as accessible to the
least, who are deprived of opportunity or education, as to the greatest,
who are endowed with knowledge and rhetoric. The living word is not bound by any
human construct, regardless of how some have thought Scripture should be read.
v
Today, with our horror at Marcion’s truncated little canon
that excluded everything explicitly Hebrew (c. 150), any imbalance of focus in
the use of both testaments of Christian Scripture has rightly been addressed.
It is not a new thing for Christians
to be living amid pluralism. Is there nevertheless a reticence to use the last
part of Scripture, with its explicit claims to the uniqueness of Jesus Christ
in our self-consciously pluralist era? It would take the audacity of Marcion,
in reverse of course, to quell the New Testament’s enthusiastic announcement that
something truly momentous and unique has occurred with its focus on Christ the
Lord. The gospels are everywhere bursting with excitement concerning the time
fulfilled and good news that something truly momentous has occurred.
In John, the stakes are raised considerably
or at least explicitly, with testimony to the Son who comes from God in filial
intimacy—whoever has seen me has seen the Father. Pertaining to
the Son, the Spirit continues to be the triune presence and teacher within the
believing community.
Acts is permeated with news of a
new-day dawned. Surrounded by a plethora of religious possibilities, this narrative
of an exuberant church declares that no other name under heaven
is finally adequate to the extraordinary testimony concerning human transformation
they proclaim.
In Pauline witness, Christian affirmations
are fully-fledged as the fullness of time now present—the time of life
in the Spirit, in tangible participation in days that were always coming.
This is eschatology, by which is meant the future of God anticipated and now begun
to be experienced in the Spirit.
Hebrews too, gives this primary testimony,
citing the many and varied ways in which God has spoken but now having
spoken definitively in Jesus Christ. Hebrews twice recites Jeremiah’s announcement
of a new covenant as it weaves a narrative that was always anticipated.
Other epistles and Revelation consolidate
the exalted themes of Christ as Lord of creation in whom all things have come
into being and continue to cohere until the final drama in which God
will make all things new through Christ, the Alpha and Omega of
our existence.
v
The seeds of anticipation are everywhere sown—the longing
or desire for a day when God will declare a new thing within creation.
Yet this anticipation is accompanied by an ever-present divide between liberation
and faithfulness, prophetic word and tangible deed, call to uniqueness and distinction
among the nations.
Where then does the uniqueness of
Israel find its final purpose? Where are the promises fulfilled? Where does a
nation sustained alone by Yahweh’s loving-kindness have its integral end? Where
does a chosen people who are called to be out of nothing by a word that
was always on the cusp of the new have its realisation? How will Israel be
a blessing to the world so that after the Psalmist, God’s name is honoured
among the nations? In what circumstances does Jacob’s nocturnal wrestling
have its correlation in testimony, from the least to the greatest, that we
have beheld his glory?
The first hearers of the word of
God sought a word and a time that would clarify these issues and inklings.
With its message of judgment and
salvation in both testaments, Christian Scripture never promises to deliver the
self-justifying word for humans. What then does it mean to hear the prophets tell
us variously, that all our righteousness is as filthy rags? What does it
mean for us to hear the word of breaking down as a precursor to building
up? What does it mean for us that the prophets looked forward to another time
in which God will initiate a new thing, summoning the human good through
redemptive grace and transformative life in the Spirit?
What does it mean that the many words
to and about God have their final focus in the Word who was always with God,
who became flesh as the definitive expression of grace and truth for all
our words and deeds? What then do we confess concerning the biblical story that
is unique and distinct from any other explorations of this veritable library,
however interesting these might be? What do we declare concerning a story that
can be written indelibly on human hearts, simply, yet with profound dignity—in
the delight of faith, as an imperative to tangible deeds and as a joy in our articulation
of good news in Christ the Lord?
Anticipation of the last part of
Scripture and the need for it is already installed, excessively, in the first
part—the longing or desire for a day when God will give the possibility and resources
for a radically new horizon in human life.
The last part of Christian Scripture
is the antiphonic response to the first part with its anticipation of a day when
God will do something entirely new.
v
It is somewhat trendy to cite the sheer diversity of thought
and expression in the writings of Israel. This is misleading if within a Christian perspective, diversity is
assumed to be an end in itself. Either diversity that never finds a point of coherence
or speculative hypotheses for coherence are inevitable in engagement outside faith
that biblical testimony calls forth from its hearers.
Pervasive anticipation in the Old
Testament exhibits a call to distinction. To what is Israel called? To what are
we called in the same hearing of Scripture?
Human destiny in the call to distinction
lies in the future and most specifically in the grace of God, not in any selected
motif of culture or civic life, the focus on which is potentially idolatrous.
Abraham is called from a world of idolatry to the future of God in faith, not
knowing where and to what he is called, trusting God as the creative future of
this call.
If on the cusp of anticipation, the
call of God in Scripture is always forward in time that is never repeated, response
will also be crucial, even as many complementary strands are interwoven with singular
anticipation of God’s future disclosed in Jesus Christ.
If the story anticipating the future
of God in Christ remained things into which no less than angels long
to look, its eventual disclosure could only be a source of tremendous joy
for the world.
Marcion (c. 150) constructed the first canon of Christian
Scripture. Marcion articulated a theology of two gods—one of law and wrath (Jewish
writings) and the other of grace and love (Gospel), with a docetic form of Christology
(Jesus was not born a human but merely appeared like an angel in human form).
His selection of writings consisted only of selected and edited Pauline letters
and an edited version of Luke.