King and Corpse

Dear Christian, 

Are you afraid of death?

I have good news. It’s in a beautiful story with feet washing and expensive perfume.

The story of Jesus being anointed at Bethany carries bizarre imagery when you first read it. It appears in each gospel, with unique differences across all four, but I’m approaching this story from John 12.

Mary, the sister of Lazarus, the man who has just been raised from the dead by Jesus (11:1-44), takes a jar of perfume that is likely worth a year’s wages and pours it over Jesus’ feet. It is an act that recognizes Jesus’ kingship and glory on one hand, and his service to the world and God's clear mission on the other: Jesus is both the Son of Man and the Son of God, crowned in greatness but elevating (literally “raising” in Lazarus’ case) those suffering and suppressed with his position. (An important note: The “Son of man” references strongly link Jesus to the eternal humanlike figure who inherits kingship in Daniel 7, and the “Son of God” references link him to God’s son in Psalm 2. This is prophetic language.) 

There’s an Ebeneezer Scrooge-like character in the story, Judas Iscariot, who finds the symbolic anointing act wildly impractical and a waste of resources. Of course, John tells us plainly that Judas is Jesus’ betrayer, so we know right away that stewarding resources isn’t actually his concern: He could not care less about Jesus receiving honor and glory, as Judas is the one who will usher in immeasurable shame upon Jesus and use God’s resources to benefit himself. In a sense, he is the antithesis of Jesus in this story: Where Jesus uses his power and glory to elevate others (Lazarus, the lame man at the pool, the blind man, the 5000 hungry listeners, the official’s son), Judas uses his access to Jesus for the complete opposite.

But all of this leads us to something truly beautiful in the narrative, yet kind of hard to see unless you zoom out and remember the macro picture of the gospel of John. All the cues are given to us in the prologue: Jesus is YHWH, the God of the Cosmos, who entered His creation and intentionally made Himself vulnerable to elevate us to intimacy with Him (Phil. 2:5-11). He comes in a way where His glory can be observed, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. We observed his glory, the glory as the one and only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). Yet many people don’t notice this glory at first, and some never do: “He was in the world, and the world was created through him, and yet the world did not recognize him” (1:10). The author of John’s gospel warned us that Jesus is truly the full glory of God wrapped in flesh for our sake, but people don’t recognize Him and often completely miss what the source of His glory is. 

Let’s jump back to John 12: Jesus rebukes Judas for completely missing the point, but Jesus doesn’t correct him by saying, “I’m God, king of the universe, and I deserve all the kingly glory that comes from this lavish display of adoration.” Now, don’t get me wrong: this is absolutely a kingly, worshipful display, and Jesus does not reject it as such; he deserves every bit of it and more. But Jesus addresses an entirely different kind of glory: He says, “Leave [Mary] alone; she has kept it for the day of my burial. For you always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me” (12:7-8).

Jesus addresses and praises the act of anointing his feet, but says it’s for his burial.

Not to elevate him on his kingly throne, not to inaugurate his kingdom, not to ignite a chorus of universal worship—even though all of those things are certainly at play and on the table here.

The lavish display of worship finds fulfillment in his death.

What?

New Testament scholar Edward Klink perfectly coined this narrative: He says Jesus is anointed as both “King and Corpse.” 

This is where the narrative really hits, and where King and Corpse weave this beautiful truth into a garment that covers you and me forever. 

Kings are anointed for coronation.

Corpses are anointed for burial.

The road to glory is trodden through death. 

Not instead of death. 

Not around death. 

Not in spite of death.

Through it. 

John merges these two realities together. Scholars often note that John is reframing kingship itself here:
Jesus is not crowned first and killed later; He is enthroned through death.

Christians in the modern era have, in my humble opinion, lost sight of this. The very first gospel, the protoeuangelion, declared this reality in Genesis 3, when God told the serpent his head would be crushed, but man’s heel would be bruised. That bruising is physical, tangible death. But physical death for those who belong to the kingdom of God itself becomes the crushing and triumph over evil, accomplished in Christ first, the forerunner who prepares the way for us (Heb. 6:20). 

I’m not surprised the modern Christian view of death has shifted. The mid-nineteenth century saw some of the most frightening encounters with death in America: Cholera pandemics, Yellow fever outbreaks, Tuberculosis deaths across cities, and the Civil War, where around 750,000 people died, entire communities were devastated, families lost multiple sons, and the afterburn of battlefields looked apocalyptic. It’s no wonder William Miller promised people the rapture would happen between 1843 and 1844: Everyone wanted to escape death, and that spirit of fear hasn't loosened over the last century and a half.

But the early Church did not see death as defeat; they saw it as participation in Christ’s victory. Ignatius of Antioch saw death as the culmination of being truly united with Christ: “When I suffer, I shall become a freedman of Jesus Christ, and I shall rise free in Him” (Letter to the Romans: 6). Ignatius recognized what John is preaching, that Jesus is crowned as he’s killed. This finds even greater emphasis in the very next narrative when Jesus triumphantly enters Jerusalem and is celebrated by Galileans while being snubbed by Jewish elites. The Roman parousia (arrival) was an imperial display of power and glory: Caesar would receive a royal procession where he rides through the city gates on his war horse, touting his captives behind him in chains and proving his mighty victory.

But now, juxtapose that image with Jesus and his parousia:

Roman Triumph Jesus’ Triumph

War horse Donkey

Military victory Coming crucifixion

Captives displayed King who will die

Jesus rides in on an animal that symbolizes peace rather than war. He suffers under the violence of Roman crucifixion rather than inciting his own violence, but in doing so, he militarily conquers the spiritual powers of evil. He doesn’t display Roman governors or the Sanhedrin in shame behind him, but instead takes on all their shame at the cross, shaming evil and rebellious principalities instead (Col. 2:15). He truly is both King and Corpse, and disarms death by walking through it to resurrection. Through death, Jesus defeated the one who has power over death (Heb. 2:14-15). This is the very reality John’s gospel is preparing us for.

You might be reading this and thinking, “Joey, stop glorifying death. It’s evil and bad, and it hurts terribly.”

Yes, I agree. Death is an enemy, even personified as an evil being in the Old Testament, and it will be destroyed at the next great arrival of Jesus, the parousia. My point, and John’s point, and the apostle Paul’s point, and the prophet Hosea’s point, and the prophet Isaiah’s point (1 Cor. 15:55; Hos. 13:14; Is. 25:8), is that death has no sting, no power, and no reason to cause fear. Death is the operation through which death itself becomes life. It is entirely subverted for God’s glory.

Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?

So dear Christian, do not fear death. Remember the perfume at the feet of Jesus, where preparation for death was the coronation of the God of the universe, who paved the way for you to spend eternal life with Him in His new creation.

Reading Paul: The New Perspective and why it matters.

Some topics in biblical scholarship rarely, if ever, make their way outside of academic circles into the lives of everyday followers of Jesus. This breaks my heart. 

I get it, I do. 

But sometimes, these topics quite literally revolutionize the way the present-day church reads the bible, which will, in turn, transform Christian communities, worship services, prayer verbiage, outreach, and numerous other life elements for the people of God.

The New Perspective on Paul is one of those beautiful discoveries that rarely leaves academic circles but sheds light on some common misunderstandings about God’s mercy and the purpose of the Old Covenant (specifically, the law). 

This is my attempt to share some of the deeply valuable truths that came out of the New Perspective on Paul conversations over several decades and why this understanding can enrich your depth of love for God and scripture.

**Disclaimer** Many will take issue with my attempt to reduce this topic to such a narrow scope and explain it so minimally; however, I believe that in this brief overview, I have maintained the integrity of the arguments and have not misrepresented perspectives on Paul in my attempts to simplify and sum up the discussion.

“The Problem of the Law” in Paul.

For centuries (pretty much since the Protestant Reformation), ancient Judaism was viewed as a “works-based religious system.” This means that if faithful Jews followed/obeyed God’s law (given to the Jewish people at Mount Sinai), they essentially “earned” God’s promises of provision, favor, and rescue in times of need. In other words, if we follow all the rules, we legally earn our right to freedom and blessing. Scholars also looked at Romans 7:7-25 and believed Paul was saying, “No one can actually follow the Law perfectly; it’s too challenging. If obeying the law is how we all get to receive God’s goodness, we’re all doomed because we just can’t.” Paul’s letter to the Romans seems to provide the antidote to this problem by contrasting “good works” that merited God’s favor with grace through Jesus Christ, a greater avenue for God’s favor.

In 1977, a scholar named E. P. Sanders challenged this understanding. In his famous work Paul and Palestinian Judaism, Sanders argued that ancient Jewish law functioned within a covenant framework where God is gracious and merciful, providing rescue through repentance and sacrifice. Sanders pointed out (correctly, by the way) that ancient Jews never believed the law could exist apart from God’s grace and mercy, and thus Jews never believed that people could be “saved” (or protected and blessed by God) simply by obeying the law. Sounds good, right? We focus so much on how the law falls short of what we need that we forget the Bible is riddled with promises in the Old Testament where God always made it clear; His grace and mercy make up for where we fail the Law. So Sanders gives us a “new perspective” from which we view God’s Law and covenant that recovers things lost over time.

Here’s the rub though. 

Paul seems to contrast the Law of Moses with the grace of Jesus Christ (Rom. 9:30-10:13). Paul makes it sound as though Jewish Christians are seeking their own righteousness through the Law, but not through grace and mercy. How is this possible if the Law includes God’s grace and mercy? There’s a contradiction here. Paul even says, “No one will be justified in his sight by the works of the law” (Romans 3:20a; see also Galatians 2:16, 3:10). Paul makes it sound as though God’s law requires perfect obedience for it to work. And since no one can perfectly obey, it doesn’t work.

Hang on. Keep reading.

Sanders decides in his book that because ancient Jews did not believe the promises of God were earned by good works, apart from His grace, then Paul’s theology is self-contradictory, heavily un-Jewish, and in conflict with the Old Testament.

You’re thinking, “So this guy decided that Paul, the author of most of the New Testament, has bad theology‽”

Yeah… Hence the phrase “The problem of the Law in Paul,” which showed up in academic circles.

Okay. So what are the solutions to this problem in the New Perspective?

Real quick, and stay with me here.

There were a few solutions presented over the last few decades that scholars offered to this supposed problem with Paul’s theology.

A renowned scholar, James Dunn, is actually the guy who coined the term “The New Perspective.” He argued that Paul’s “works of the law” do not mean moral commands of the Torah (first five books of the Old Testament) but only Jewish ceremonial markers, specifically circumcision, food laws, and sabbath keeping. Said differently, the things that made a person Jewish in a pagan world are the things that make a person right with God, according to Jewish opponents of Paul, and therefore, gentile Christians (and everyone else) cannot be included in God’s covenant. According to Dunn, Paul was just pushing back against this specific teaching but was not rejecting God’s Old Covenant entirely.

This perspective has been somewhat debunked over time. The biggest reason why? Paul is definitely talking about both Jews and Gentiles (Rom. 1:18-3:20) and specifically refers to moral works of the Law as well (Rom. 4:1-8). Paul cannot be referring only to pious Jews when all mankind is referred to as being “under sin” (3:9-20).

Other solutions were offered, and they created new problems instead of solving old ones.

So what is the answer? 

Ready?

Psalm 143.

Read it.

Paul is actually quoting from Psalm 143:2 in Romans, “No one alive is righteous in your sight” (CSB).

The psalmist believes it is impossible to be righteous before God apart from God’s covenant promise of mercy. The source of God’s mercy is not the Law or the sacrifices offered; it is God’s “covenant love and truth” (Exod. 34:6-7; Ps. 25:10, 40:11), and when the psalmist responds to God’s heartfelt love and mercy, he chooses to obey God. This means that in ancient Jewish thought, God always planned on human beings not measuring up, having them approach him with repentance, and forgiving them because He is merciful, something He promised to be within His intimate covenant relationship (Psalm 143:1, 6, 8, 9). In this view, God’s mercy is not a response to sacrifices and rituals. Instead, sacrifices and rituals are a response to God’s mercy.

To recap: Where Sanders was correct - 

Israelites never believed they could be saved by works alone. They always believed in God’s mercy to save them. Christians misrepresented Judaism for centuries by assuming otherwise.

Where Sanders missed the mark -  

Paul was not being incoherent or contradictory and was not misrepresenting ancient Jewish theology.

Paul was pointing out to all human beings that God’s grace and mercy are not a response to good works. Instead, God’s grace and mercy draw human beings into obedience and deeper love, and there is no obedience and good works outside of covenant love with God (See also Psalm 130:3-4; Isaiah 59:1-15; Daniel 9:4-19).

It is impossible to “observe the law” outside of the gracious framework of God’s covenant promises.

Okay, Joey, why does any of this matter? This sounds like it could have stayed in academic circles.

Here’s why it matters.

Many Christians misunderstand the Bible and think it teaches that God used to force people to try to obey laws they could never obey, just so he could guide them into wanting to accept grace through Jesus. In actuality, people in ancient cultures would have become very good at following laws like this. We blow out of proportion the difficulty of following the Mosaic Law. Paul himself points out how successful he was at being a law-following Pharisee (Philippians 3:4-6). Obeying the law is not Paul’s issue, and we are grateful to Sanders for pointing this out to us. Israel always believed that God’s promises needed His mercy for when the people veered into idolatry and made mistakes.

Now we know that the issue Paul was addressing is that many people believed they could obey the law of Moses apart from being in a loving, committed relationship with God Himself. Paul states that this simply isn’t possible because it is God’s loving grace that makes God’s Law profitable in the first place (Rom. 3:21-23), and that grace has now been perfectly revealed in Jesus Christ (Rom. 6:23).

In the end, ancient Jews did not believe good works could save them without God being merciful. They did, however, believe God’s mercy was a failsafe for sin, and Paul set the record straight: All those who confess Jesus is lord are, in fact, saved by God’s law, because God’s law always depended on Him being merciful first, and sought our obedience second (Rom. 10:9-10).

By the way, biblical scholars Frank Thielman, Andrew Das, Jean Noel Aletti, and N. T. Wright are to thank for these beautiful solutions to “the problem of the law in Paul” proposed by E.P. Sanders.

Okay, that was longer than I wanted it to be. But now you can appreciate what the apostle Paul did for us in the New Testament, and hopefully, you have a more robust understanding of God’s beautiful grace, the Law of Moses, and how Christ perfectly fulfilled it all.

Sexual Immorality, the Human Body, and Community Holiness.

Paul’s first address to the church in Corinth articulates a unique theology of the human body and its purposes in God’s inaugurated kingdom on earth. In examining 1st Corinthians 6:12-20,  Paul addresses boundaries and abuses of freedom in the Christian life (6:12-13), God’s purpose for the human body in Christ (VS 14-20), the sinful practice of sexual immorality against both the body and the Lord (VS 14-18), and communal holiness for the collective church as Christ’s body (15-20). This paper will endeavor to explain and support the position that Paul’s theology of the human body, explicitly expressed and supported in this passage, was unique in Paul’s day and is coherent and consistent within greater Pauline literature. It will begin by addressing the wider issue at stake in Paul’s entire letter to the Corinthians.