The New Testament in Seven Sentences

A Small Introduction to a Vast Topic

Gary M. Burge

• Publisher: IVP Academic
• Year: 2019
• ISBN:
  9780830856459
• Topic: Théologie et religion
• Subtopic: Études bibliques

We often explore individual passages of Scripture without seeing the whole. A verse may be inspiring and easy to grasp, but the sweeping context is often difficult and requires persistence. To understand the breadth of the gospel's message, we need to perceive the full tapestry of Scripture with its theological themes woven together. Otherwise, we miss the scope of what Jesus is doing in the New Testament, gaining mere glimpses of his activity or teaching but missing their significance.Gary M. Burge aims to weave this larger tapestry so that each part of the story takes on richer meaning. Using seven key sentences drawn straight from the New Testament, Burge demonstrates how the themes of fulfillment, kingdom, cross, grace, covenant, spirit, and completion set a theological rhythm for our faith. The seven include- "You are the Messiah, the son of the living God!"- "By grace you have been saved, through faith … not by works."- "You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession."- "I saw a new heaven and a new earth."These sentences are not only individually inspiring, but they outline the broader pattern of Scripture that illustrates what God has done—and is bringing to fulfillment—in Christ.The accessible primers in the Introductions in Seven Sentences collection act as brief introductions to an academic field, with simple organization: seven key sentences that give readers a birds-eye view of an entire discipline.

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FULFILLMENT

Simon Peter answered, “You are the

Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

MATTHEW 16:16

Each of the Gospel writers knew they were introducing a story that had enormous significance. They were not telling a story that might compare with the courageous or inspiring Jewish narratives that were well known in their day. Nor were they profiling a heroic character who brought a message to Israel but was rejected and martyred. They knew that they were saying something more. Something epic. Something that compared with the great stories of the Old Testament or perhaps even the Roman world. As we’ll see, this story was even a rival to the great story of the Emperor Augustus (but more on that later). Matthew wanted to write with an epic tone, so he imitated the style of Greek that they read regularly in their two-hundred-year-old Greek translation of the Old Testament. He was giving his story a “biblical” sound. It was like telling a religious story today and sounding like we just stepped out of the King James Bible.

These Gospel writers believed that a colossal shift had taken place in Judaism—and in the world—and they are about to tell us what it is. And they knew it was going to be controversial. The Gospel writers do not shy away from the fact that whenever this story is told in full by Jesus, crowds are either won over or they are resistant and disturbed. It reminds me of Rabbi Jacob Neusner’s popular book, A Rabbi Talks with Jesus.1 Neusner describes how he would have respected much of what Jesus taught but that he also would have disagreed with Jesus profoundly. He would have rejected some of the more important things Jesus was saying. If Jesus is new wine and Israel is the wineskin, an old wineskin no less, Neusner takes offense that the arrival of Jesus will break the old wineskin (Luke 5:37). And Neusner is exactly right. Jesus is not just one more teacher; Jesus is the Teacher who had shifted everything. Something epic was happening, and for many teachers in Israel, Jesus was a stone that would make many stumble (Romans 9:32; 11:11; Luke 7:23).

Mark opens this epic with these words: “The beginning of the good news about Jesus the Messiah” (Mark 1:1). Some ancient Greek scribes even expanded on Mark’s first verse in order to underscore its significance: “The beginning of the good news about Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God.” These words, “good news,” “Messiah,” even “Son of God,” are so loaded with meaning it is difficult to underestimate them. But they all point to this same premise: something enormous has happened, and it is good, very good.

WHAT THE GOSPELS ARE DOING

But first let’s be clear about what the Gospels are and what they are not. Despite the fact that the Gospels open the New Testament, they are not the oldest writings of the New Testament. The earliest Christians were not writing the story of Jesus during his lifetime. His closest followers (called apostles) followed him, carefully learned many of the things he taught, and imitated his way of life. But their most profound experience—the experience that truly converted them—was the resurrection. They understood that they were witnesses to something phenomenal (John 15:27; Acts 1:8; 2:32), and soon this exposure was coupled to an intense experience of the Holy Spirit that galvanized their faith and confirmed their commitment to be followers of Jesus even if they were abused, imprisoned, or killed. This was a story they could not walk away from. In other words, it was an experience, a transformative experience of Jesus in power that brought them to the faith that they had throughout their lives.

The life of Jesus certainly was compelling, but the resurrection of Jesus was profoundly confirming that God was at work here in ways they could barely measure. Notice the speeches of the book of Acts: when these early believers preach about Jesus, the resurrection is the critical element in every presentation. It is the power of Jesus that converts, not well-reasoned presentations about his public life.

The earliest writer to reflect on these things may have been Paul. We cannot be certain whether other letters in the New Testament (James?) came earlier, but it is in Paul, an early Jewish convert to Christ, that we hear the earliest explanations about what Jesus meant to Judaism and the world. For some scholars, Paul’s letter to the Roman region of Galatia (“Galatians”) is the earliest Christian document we own, and here we can see Paul formulating an explanation of Jesus that guided early believers who did not own a Gospel. But note carefully that in his letters we find virtually nothing about the earthly life of Jesus. No birth or baptism, no record of Jesus’ miracles, nor even any specifics about the cross and resurrection. Paul announces Jesus’ betrayal, death, and resurrection, but he doesn’t point to the details of the story about it.

At some point the community of Christians recognized that if their faith was anchored to the resurrected, living Jesus, they wanted to know more about him. If it was Jesus in power who was transforming the world, then it made sense that reflection on his earthly life was necessary as well. The resurrection forced the early church to rethink the meaning of what they had seen during Jesus’ earthly life.

Throughout the Gospels much of Jesus’ teaching and activity seemed incomprehensible to his followers. When he told a parable, they struggled to comprehend it (Mark 4:13). When he fed the five thousand, they simply couldn’t understand its deeper meaning (Mark 6:52). They found the cross to be completely beyond their ability to take in (Mark 8:32-33; 9:32). But after Jesus died, after he had been raised from the dead and the Spirit awakened their minds to what was really happening, everything became clear.

The story of the disciples on the Emmaus road illustrates this. On Easter Sunday Jesus encounters two people who believed in him, and yet the cross had dashed their hopes. They knew about the cross and had heard rumors about an empty tomb. But these men hadn’t seen the resurrected Jesus themselves. They were discouraged. Then Jesus—unrecognized at this point—began to explain everything to them. “He said, ‘How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?’ And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself” (Luke 24:25-27). However, the men still didn’t recognize Jesus. But they stopped to eat in a village, and when Jesus broke bread and prayed in his customary way, suddenly it happened—“then their eyes were opened and they recognized him” (Luke 24:31). Notice that the resurrected Jesus explains his true identity and opens their minds to comprehend it.

John’s Gospel makes this experience explicit. The disciples could not understand the cleansing of the temple when Jesus drove out the money-changers. It was his resurrection that enabled them to remember and interpret what Jesus meant in his public life. “After he was raised from the dead, his disciples recalled what he had said. Then they believed the scripture and the words that Jesus had spoken” (John 2:22). Likewise, John tells us that the disciples barely understood Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem (John 12:16). Then John says, “At first his disciples did not understand all this. Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize that these things had been written about him and that these things had been done to him” (John 12:16). It was the resurrection that prompted research and reflection on Jesus’ earthly life, and this effort would be guided by the work of the Holy Spirit (John 14:26). Note again the twin points of early Christian thinking: resurrection and Spirit. Both together led the church to revisit and comprehend Jesus’ preresurrection life.

This investigation into Jesus’ life resulted in the collection and preservation of Jesus’ story. We think of the leadership of the earliest community as the custodians of “the Jesus Tradition.” In the Gospels, they are called “apostles.” Sometimes they are called “The Twelve.” They were committed to the archive of stories that circulated from Jesus’ life. Were Jesus’ sayings collated and collected? Were many memorized? Were they circulating in oral form? Were written memoranda kept? A wide number of scholars would affirm each of these.

But the great task before them was not only the important custodial work of preserving and passing on what Jesus had taught and done. The great task was writing an explanatory narrative that organized and interpreted what all of this meant. And this is when we come to the Gospels themselves. Their authors’ aim was to put some form to the meaning of Jesus’ life from the very beginning. The collection of materials at their disposal may have been far larger than what we see today in the New Testament. But in their selection and ordering of events from Jesus’ life, they were painting a portrait of him using the building materials of the “Jesus Tradition” that had been preserved within the community. Think of this as an artist who is building a two-hour film on a complex set of stories—perhaps a war or a person’s life. When the artist selects one story over another, or chooses an arrangement of these stories, it all contributes to the final picture we get to watch.

Now here is a key: the Gospel writers were not just compilers stringing together a long list of events from Jesus. They were theologians, or perhaps artists, writing up the story so that it made interpretative sense to anyone who would read it. Jesus had to be explained for audiences in later generations who had never heard him. And while that first generation was still living, they could serve as eyewitnesses for what everyone knew to be true about Jesus.

THE FIRST PRIMARY IDEA

When Peter refers to Jesus as “the Messiah” or when Mark opens his Gospel with a reference to Jesus Christ as the Messiah, we quickly uncover one of the central claims of the New Testament. Messiah is a Hebrew word that simply means someone who is anointed. It is translated into Greek as “Christos” or in English “Christ.” Anointing is simply putting something (such as oil) on something else (such as someone’s head). Anointing could be ceremonial, such as when David is anointed the king of Israel (1 Samuel 16:13). Or it could be a social courtesy, such as when guests are greeted at a dinner party (Luke 7:46). In ceremonial anointing for kings (1 Samuel 16:12-13), priests (Exodus 29:7), or prophets (1 Kings 19:16), the anointing is symbolic of God’s Spirit, who is empowering the work of the person and confirming their role. When that anointing is jeopardized through misconduct, such as David’s sin with Bathsheba, then this risks the removal of God’s Spirit (Psalm 51:11).

Therefore, the first fundamental affirmation of the New Testament is that Jesus is an “anointed one,” bearing God’s Spirit. “Christ” (Christos) is used almost five hundred times in the New Testament to describe Jesus. It is the central affirmation of every Christian confession from the beginning. Following Peter’s sermon at Pentecost—the first Christian sermon—the crowd wonders what they should do. Peter says, “Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:38). Belief is centered on “Jesus Christ,” or perhaps, Jesus the anointed one. Jesus Christ is not Jesus’ full name. It is an affirmation of belief. Jesus is the Messiah.

But what about the backstory to this name? The New Testament is not claiming that Jesus is simply one more anointed figure in Israel’s history. He is not “a messiah.” He is the Messiah. And this takes more explanation.

THE PROBLEM AND THE SOLUTION

When I was a student I was once on a Swiss train traveling from Geneva to Zurich. I was traveling alone for the day, and an older Jewish rabbi sat next to me. He immediately struck up a conversation. And after I disclosed that I had been studying in the Middle East for a year and was on my way home in a roundabout way, he enquired more about my personal studies. I told him that I had worked in both political science and religion and was interested in how these interfaced in the thorny world of the Middle East. And I said I was a Christian. Immediately he lit up. “And why are you a Christian?” Perhaps each of us needs to answer that question someday, preferably in front of a European rabbi!

I opened a well-worn leather Bible and turned to that blank page between the Old Testament and the New Testament. There I had listed every Old Testament verse “proving” that Jesus was the Messiah. (I had found these in an old copy of Halley’s Bible Handbook.) He was intrigued. “We have two hours till Zurich. Let’s look those up and see what we can make of them.” He opened his Hebrew Bible, and we were underway for what felt like an eternity. And there I was on a Swiss train, with an Orthodox rabbi, trying to explain the most ancient question that Jews and Christians have ever discussed. And to say the least, it didn’t go well. I still have that Bible and I’ve kept the page as a token and reminder of good intentions gone wrong.

I thought that Jesus’ messiahship was self-evident and that his fulfillment of a list of prophecies would make his identity plain. And I’d always wondered why more people in the first century never figured it out. Now I knew. It was complex.

Jewish teachers in the biblical period viewed history through a cycle of experiences. And when we see this fully played out and woven into Jesus’ own identity and life, suddenly new ideas emerge. This historical cycle involves five parts: First, promise. God comes to Israel with a promise of goodness and blessing. Second, settlement. God’s people settle into this promise and enjoy the goodness of God’s grace. Third, sin. Israel departs from the covenant expectations that accompany this blessing. Fourth, exile. Israel risks the loss of these blessings, whether it is the land or privileges of the temple. Fifth, restoration. Israel repents and experiences renewal, and God raises up an anointed leader who will guide Israel to its restoration.

This brief outline summarizes every generation in the book of Judges and can be used to explain Israel’s national history from the promises to Abraham to the return from exile under Ezra. And at any given time, we can ask where Israel lives within this cycle of promise–restoration. Suddenly Isaiah makes sense as he deplores the sin of the northern kingdom of Israel. Jeremiah makes sense as he provides hope of restoration after the Babylonian exile. God’s promises are linked to his covenant relationship with Israel: Israel can ruin the blessing of these promises through sin, but God is faithful and eager to restore Israel to what has been promised in the beginning.

Therefore, when national catastrophe fell on Israel either through a l...