Did God Crush His Only Son? — Making Sense of Isaiah 53, the Cross of Christ, and the Bible of the Early Church

Christians of all shapes and sizes believe that “Jesus died for our sins.” But the rub comes in trying to explain exactly what that means.

There is a song we sing in the non-denominational church my wife and I attend which has a line in it which has puzzled me recently. Written by Pat Szcebel, of Sovereign Grace Worship, back in 2003, “Jesus, Thank You,” the first verse goes like this:

The mystery of the cross I cannot comprehend
The agonies of Calvary
You the perfect Holy One, crushed Your Son
Who drank the bitter cup reserved for me

That third line is a curiosity: “You the perfect Holy One, crushed Your Son.” At the very least, it sounds pretty harsh. What does that even mean? Did God the Father really “crush” his only Son?

Where does this idea come from in the first place? Well, it turns out that explaining the answer to this question can take you down a very interesting rabbit trail.

However, the idea detailed here is not about some random trivia, meant to help you win some kind of Bible quiz or to impress a friend at some social gathering. Instead, it is about something really, really important in how we as Christians think what the Gospel is.

It involves a famous Old Testament passage, Isaiah 53, but simply quoting from Isaiah 53 is not enough to try to unpack what is going on here. It involves an exploration into how the writers of the New Testament make use of passages of the Old Testament like this. It also involves what translation of the Old Testament the New Testament writers were using. Once you dig deeper, you begin to realize that there is more going here than simply appealing to one Bible verse as a prooftext.

Put on your thinking cap with me…. and let us go for a ride. Shall we??

There is a debate in evangelical circles around “penal substitutionary atonement,” which continues to swirl in the social media world of YouTube. The controversy is also a favorite complaint made by atheists.

In this worship song, this line comes from Isaiah 53:10, part of the famous passage about the Suffering Servant, which according to the ESV (English Standard Version) translation reads:

Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for guilt,
he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days;
the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.

Well, you would think that this settles the debate once and for all: God did crush his only Son. But there are some who question this translation of Isaiah 53:10…. and for good reason.

The challenge is that the meaning of a God who would “crush” the Son is not inherently obvious. The logic can be a bit difficult to grasp, but please hang with me.  I promise you, even if you are not completely convinced by what I present here, if you stick with it until the very end, you will never read Isaiah 53 again in the same way.

 

Who is the Suffering Servant? Is it the Lamb of God, the unblemished sacrifice to take away the sins of the world? Christians will say, “Yes,”  that the Suffering Servant is Jesus:  But in what sense does it mean to say that Jesus is the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53?

 

 

Different Translations of Isaiah 53 ???

In fact, there are translations of Isaiah 53:10 which take a harder line, not simply saying that it was within the will of God that Jesus be “crushed,” but that God the Father took “pleasure” in it. The venerable KJV (King James Version) translation took it that way, and the CSB (Christian Standard Bible) is not that much different:

Yet the Lord was pleased to crush him severely.
When you make him a guilt offering,
he will see his seed, he will prolong his days,
and by his hand, the Lord’s pleasure will be accomplished.

The primary philosophical objection is that it would have been unbecoming of the character of God the Father for him to “crush” the Son of God, when Jesus died for our sins at Calvary, as it implies that the Father took some kind of pleasure in “killing,” or “crushing” Jesus.

After all, even Proverbs 17:15 says that God considers the punishment of an innocent person to be an abomination. If indeed Jesus, as the Son of God, was perfectly innocent of sin, then why would the Father punish Jesus? What do we do this?

Let us first acknowledge some fundamental Christian truth claims: Make no mistake of it: God really hates sin. Furthermore, humans are crushed by sin. God’s solution was for Jesus to take away the sins of the world.

Sinful humanity lives in rebellion from a holy God. But God has made a way for us to be reconciled to our Creator, through the work of Jesus Christ on the cross.

But to say that God the Father takes “pleasure” in crushing Jesus, the Son, can put a kink into a healthy, robust theology. In this approach, sinful humanity gets a reprieve from God’s wrath, but the innocent Son takes the full brunt of the Father’s anger. In response, the Father appears to be appeased with what occurs. Is that really how the death of Christ in dealing with human sin “works?” More importantly, is that the kind of God one ought to worship?

 

The Puzzle of Reading Isaiah 53 in Hebrew

As it turns out, the translation of Isaiah 53 can be quite difficult and tricky. Down the rabbit trail we go.

First of all, that word in Hebrew, “da-kha,” does mean to be “to be crushed” or “to be broken.” But there is also a figurative meaning of “da-kha,” as in “to be contrite.” So it is possible to interpret the first part of Isaiah 53:10 to say that God through Jesus became “contrite,” feeling deep remorse, guilt or sorrow for humanity’s wrongdoing.

Consider Isaiah 57:15 where this Hebrew word da-kha means “contrite”:

For thus says the One who is high and lifted up,
who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy:
“I dwell in the high and holy place,
and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit,
to revive the spirit of the lowly,
and to revive the heart of the contrite.

In the doctrine of penal substitutionary atonement, this is often understood to mean that at the cross Jesus took our sin upon himself, bearing the weight of deep remorse, guilt, and sorrow for the wrongdoing of humankind. This helps us to better understand those translations that say that God the Father took “pleasure” in “crushing” the Son. Instead of a picture of God as an angry Father taking pleasure in seeing the Suffering Servant; that is, the Son, suffer under being “crushed,” as in being beaten to death, a more positive picture emerges. In this more positive picture, God is pleased that the “crushing” weight of sin and guilt has been taken off of us sinful humans, to be dealt with by God in himself.

In this sense, the Lord is not taking pleasure as some sadistic pagan deity might in seeing pain inflicted on someone else. Rather, God is satisfied with the outcome, a restored relationship between God and the Creatures he made.

However, while this interpretation is plausible, there is a major problem with it. For this interpretation to work, it requires that it is sin and guilt doing the “crushing” of the Son, and that God the Father’s role is more passively allowing this “crushing” by sin and guilt to take place, while the Father is actively pleased with the result of this “crushing,” namely the satisfaction of having a restored relationship between the Creator and creatures made, putting back the pieces which sin and guilt tore apart.

But the verse really does not read that way. Instead, it would appear that God the Father is really the one in the active role of “crushing” the Son, and not the weight of sin and guilt. This raises again philosophical questions as to why God would take pleasure in crushing the Suffering Servant found here in Isaiah 53.

A variation of this interpretation suggests that when God seeks to “crush” the servant, that this is an effort to uphold the ultimate sovereignty of God in all things; that is, that nothing happens for which God does not have some type of contingency plan to address. But while God stands behind all things, as the indirect cause, there can still be an intermediate cause which directly results in some particular outcome. God is the ultimate cause, in a sense, but God’s involvement is indirect, as opposed to some other direct, intermediate cause being also responsible, in some way.

Consider the historical context which Isaiah is addressing in Isaiah 53.  The Babylonians had crushed the southern Hebrew kingdom of Judah, in the 6th century before Christ. Multiple prophets in the Bible have described this as God’s way of punishing the Jews, using the Babylonians as a vehicle for delivering that punishment.

Perhaps the Babylonians were crushing the Suffering Servant as an intermediate, more direct cause. However, the obvious problem here is that the verse indicates that God is indeed the cause of the Suffering Servant’s suffering without exception, with no mention of any other intermediate cause bringing suffering upon the Suffering Servant. This particular variation in interpretation thus ends up depending on an argument from silence.

 

Learning from Eastern Christians, as to How The Early Church Read the Old Testament

As it turns out, in Eastern Orthodox Christianity, the philosophical objection against God “crushing” the Son is more than just a philosophical whim. It actually has a textual basis in how the Old Testament is translated. If you pick up a copy of the NKJV Orthodox Study Bible, and read Isaiah 53:10, you get a very different sense of what is going on… a VERY DIFFERENT sense:

The Lord wishes to cleanse Him of His wound, and if You give an offering for sin, Your soul shall see a long-lived seed.

There are a lot of moving parts with this translation of Isaiah 53 as a whole, and how it all relates to the New Testament, so let us zone in on one particular problem. For the sake of simplicity, we can focus on the sense of the Lord wishing to “cleanse” the Suffering Servant. Here it suggests that what is going on with the death of Jesus is that rather than God the Father “crushing” his Son, it is God the Father “cleansing” the Son of his wound he endured on Calvary’s hill.

“Cleansing” versus “crushing.” The images these terms bring up are in stark contrast.

So, why is this translation that Eastern Orthodox Christians use so different?

The English Standard Version bases its translation of the Old Testament on what is called the Masoretic text, or Hebrew version of the Bible, preserved by the Jewish community down through the centuries. With the NKJV Orthodox Study Bible, the translators follow the so-called Septuagint, or the Greek translation of the Old Testament (Take a look at a previous Veracity blog post for more info on the Septuagint).

All of this plays into the reason why Isaiah 53:10 looks so different across different Bibles. Protestant Bibles typically preserve the Hebrew Masoretic reading of Isaiah 53:10 (where the Lord desires to “crush“) , whereas Eastern Orthodox Bibles follow the Greek Septuagint (where the Lord desires to “cleanse“). To make matters more complicated, to my knowledge what we have uncovered at Qumran with the Dead Sea Scrolls, particularly with the famous Great Isaiah Scroll, follows the Masoretic tradition for Isaiah 53:10.

 

The Bible of the Early Church Was Primarily the Greek Old Testament, Not the Hebrew

This brings up a very important point that most Christians completely miss. In fact, I went through multiple years of theological seminary and never picked up on this until long after I finished my degree.

The earliest Christians of the first century, particular as the Gospel spread throughout the Greco-Roman world, even outside of Judea, primarily spoke Greek. As a result, the Greek Septuagint translation, for the most part, became the “Bible” of the early church, not the Hebrew Bible, which not that many people understood, certainly among the growing number of Gentiles joining the Christian movement. The authors of the New Testament, who wrote in Greek, generally followed this tradition (There is one notable exception: the Book of Revelation, whereby the author fairly frequently directly transliterates Hebrew into Greek, but that is a story for another time).

Whenever a New Testament writer quotes from or alludes to Isaiah 53, the author uses the Septuagint reading and not the Masoretic reading. A couple of examples demonstrate the difficulty faced in understanding how the New Testament uses the Old Testament.

In Acts 8:32-33, Luke quotes from the Greek Old Testament (Septuagint), at Isaiah 53:7b-8. Here we read about Philip’s encounter with the Ethiopian eunuch , who was puzzled over Isaiah 53 (as many today still are):

Now the passage of the Scripture that he was reading was this:

“Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter
and like a lamb before its shearer is silent,
so he opens not his mouth.
In his humiliation justice was denied him.
Who can describe his generation?
For his life is taken away from the earth.”

But if you look back at Isaiah 53:7b-8, which in most English Bibles is translated from the Masoretic Hebrew, there is a difference which is striking:

like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
so he opened not his mouth.
By oppression and judgment he was taken away;
and as for his generation, who considered
that he was cut off out of the land of the living,
stricken for the transgression of my people?

Take note of the highlighted line: According to the Hebrew, it was “by oppression and judgment he was taken away,” indicating that the Suffering Servant received judgment (or “justice”) presumably from God, through an act of punishment. Contrast that with the Greek version, whereby “in his humiliation justice was denied him,” suggesting that the Suffering Servant did not receive justice.

In other words, according to the Hebrew, it was by judgment that he (the Suffering Servant) was taken away.  But in the Greek version, it was the judgment itself (not the Suffering Servant) that was taken away.

Or to put it another way, according to the Hebrew, God takes the Suffering Servant away (by judgment, through a form of punishment).  According to the Greek, God takes the judgment away, thus denying judgment to the Suffering Servant. In some versions of the Greek, the subject is explicit: “In His humiliation His judgment was taken away.”

So, which is it, was the Suffering Servant a recipient of justice…. or was he not?

You can look up several other examples which also can be puzzling (The New Testament reference quotes from the Greek Septuagint, whereas the Isaiah Old Testament passage is translated from the Hebrew):

A messianic Jewish scholar, Eitan Bar, provocatively brings out a particularly insightful observation concerning 1 Peter 2:22-25 which I had not seen before. Unlike the ESV translation, the NIV reads verse 23 as follows:

When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly.

This is an allusion to Isaiah 53, where the Suffering Servant motif has been understood by Peter to be a reference to Jesus, the one who suffered on the cross. But if God the Father was the one who crushed the Son, then why are those who hurled insults at the Son described in the plural, as with “they” with “their insults?”  The Father is always spoken of in the New Testament in the singular, and not in the plural. Who then is the “they?”

In the providence of God, it might be reasonable to say that the Father was an indirect cause of what happened to the Son on the cross, as though nothing escapes the plans and purposes of God. Fair enough. But the use of “they” might indicate the Roman soldiers, etc. were the ones who directly whipped and scourged Jesus. For if it were the Father who was the one who directly crushed the Son, why does Peter, one of the earliest Christians, not clearly come out and say this?

Mmmmmm…..

When I run into things like this when I am studying the Bible, it makes me think of that scene from The Wizard of Oz:  “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”

Wow. Indeed. So what does one do with all of this?

Some Possible Ingredients to Help Solve the Isaiah 53 Puzzle

What we do know are two things: First, words in the ancient world have indeed changed meaning over time, so scholars must be careful to consider this when we come to difficult Bible translation issues like this. If you do not believe me, then go and pick up a King James Version translation of the Bible, finished in 1611, and compare that to a modern translation, in say a well-known passage like Psalm 23:1.

The KJV reads: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” But the CSB (Christian Standard Bible) reads “The Lord is my shepherd; I have what I need.

I have what I need” makes sense, whereas “I shall not want,” from the KJV, is the classic reading, but it can be confusing.

See what I mean?

I can draw out another example here: What does the word “halt” mean? I can think of lines in movies where someone says, “Halt! Who goes there?” In this modern sense, “halt” means an order to stop. Stop moving!!

But take a look at the King James Version (KJV) reading of  Luke 14:21: “…Bring in hither the poor, and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind.”

To say that Jesus wants to heal the “halt” in the modern sense, does not make any sense!

But in 1611, some 400 years ago, the word “halt” meant something completely different than what we think it means today. Back then, those who “halt” are those who are physically impaired in some way.

In other words, the meaning of the word “halt” has changed over the centuries. It is quite possible that the Hebrew word for “crush” might have changed meaning over the centuries, too, though there is some significant scholarly debate about this particular word.

Secondly, the ancient Hebrew language is way more ambiguous than its nearby rival language, ancient Koine Greek, the language of the New Testament. The number of words in the Hebrew lexicon is significantly smaller than the number of words in the Greek lexicon. Therefore, in order to determine a meaning of the word, Hebrew is much more context dependent than Greek.

Furthermore, as Old Testament scholar John Goldingay says in his The Old Testament for Everyone Commentary on Isaiah 53 (p. 3971), Isaiah 53 as a whole is one of the more difficult passages in the Old Testament to interpret. Gregory Beale and D.A. Carson, both well respected conservative scholars, flat out say that the Hebrew text of Isaiah is “far from easy to understand” (Commentary on the New Testament Use of the Old Testament, p. 573). The bigger picture of Isaiah 53 is clear, but it is possible to get bogged down in all of the details.

This should adequately explain why there are so many variations of Isaiah 53:10 when it comes to translating the Hebrew into English. Was it “the will of the Lord to crush him, he has put him to grief” as the ESV reads, or did the CSB version get it right: “Yet the Lord was pleased to crush him severely?” Apparently, the Hebrew is ambiguous enough to go either way.

However, what is left open deals with what to do with the “crushing” as opposed to the “cleansing” or “purifying” activity of the Father with respect to the wounded Son, as suggested by the Septuagint translators, an idea that the New Testament picks up on. So, why did the Septuagint translators go with “cleansing” and not “crushing?” That Greek word for “cleansing” interestingly is the root word for our modern English word “catharsis.” Is it possible that the Greek language for the term “cleansing;” related to our modern “catharsis,” changed meaning over time?

It is certainly worth thinking about.

But I am not convinced that this entire approach I just outlined is entirely right. As it turns out, there is yet another contextual concern which flips how Isaiah 53 is often read in the Masoretic version, which might better explain why the Septuagint version sounds so different. The reason why this is important is because a number of scholars, particularly of the Protestant variety, tend to elevate the Masoretic translation of the Old Testament as superior to the Septuagint. But since the New Testament writers tend to quote more from the Septuagint, as opposed to a straight translation of the Masoretic text, it does raise some problems for those scholars who prioritize the Masoretic at the expense of the Septuagint.

In my view, this other approach which I will advocate for has the greater explanatory power. Otherwise, you might end up concluding that the original meaning of Isaiah 53 has been hopelessly lost, due to conflicting variations of translations.

But I do not think we need to go there. There is a better solution to the puzzle.

We pick up the rabbit trail again, to see where it leads. ….

Did God the Father “crush” God the Son, as Jesus was dying on the cross for our sins? The answer to this questions takes on a wild ride, looking a Isaiah 53, the difference between translations, and how the early church read the Bible…. and what we can learn from all of this.

 

The Historical Context for Isaiah 53

As New Testament scholar Ben Witherington has famously said: “A text without a context is just a pretext for whatever you want it to mean.”

It is absolutely crucial to understand the context for Isaiah 53, and unfortunately, many Christians seem to miss this. Isaiah is describing a time when the nation of Israel will be allowed to return from exile. Years earlier, the cultural elite of what remained of the Israelites had been forcibly marched across the fertile crescent to Babylon, spending some seventy years in an area what we now know as part of modern day Iraq. The Babylonians in 587 BCE had successfully defeated the southern kingdom of Judah, destroying the Temple built by Solomon, and flattening the walls of Jerusalem, ruining the city.

The nations around Judah had mocked the survivors of this exile to Babylon. As onlookers to the demise of Judah, primarily “kings” of surrounding Gentile nations, they had concluded that the God of Israel had failed these people, and that these people had failed Yahweh, their God. Those from Judah had brought so much displeasure to their God that this God had sent these people off to Babylon to be punished for their sins.

These survivors who were marched off to Babylon had become the “Suffering Servant” as described in Isaiah 53. To the onlookers (or what some scholars simply describe as “the crowd), the sad plight of these survivors proved that the God of Israel was powerless to save these people….. or perhaps even worse, that the God of Israel just gave up on his covenant people, abandoning them to their fate in the hands of the Babylonians.

Nevertheless, a radical turn of events was being prophesied to take place. Now those Jews who were living in exile in Babylon, as the Suffering Servant, according to this prophecy of Isaiah, were to be given permission to return to their land, to restore their nation. This Suffering Servant was being given hope that God had not abandoned his people, contrary to what the onlookers (or “the crowd”) were claiming.

The exile was not a permanent situation, according to Isaiah. The Suffering Servant would be vindicated. While the onlookers had claimed that God had “crushed” his people, this was not the full story. It may have appeared that God had “crushed” the Suffering Servant. But instead, good news was at hand.

What really was going on was that God was taking his people through this time of great trial in order to give the land, back in Israel, a time for renewal and restoration. In this sense, a kind of cleansing and healing was happening back in the land while the people were off in Babylon living under exile. The prophet Isaiah was effectively announcing that the onlookers, who had mocked the Jews over their misfortune, were the ones in the wrong. Now, God was on the verge of returning the people from this exile so that they could dwell back in a fully cleansed and healed land.

This theme of exile and restoration, as portrayed by Isaiah 53, was picked up in numerous places in the New Testament. In this sense, the Suffering Servant of the 6th century BCE was typologically pointing towards the coming of the Messiah. The Messiah would be the true Suffering Servant, who would ultimately defeat the powers of sin, evil, and death. Christians know this Messiah to be Jesus, the one who died on the cross for our sins.

 

The Masoretic (Hebrew) Versus the Septuagint (Greek) Readings of Isaiah 53

With this context in mind, it can frame for us a better way of reading Isaiah 53, to account for why the Masoretic and Septuagint versions differ so sharply. Essentially, in Isaiah 53, we have a dialogue going on, shifting back and forth between the mockery of the onlookers versus the prophet Isaiah speaking on behalf of Yahweh, the God of Israel.

We have evidence for this starting back in Isaiah 52:13-15 (ESV):

Behold, my servant shall act wisely;
he shall be high and lifted up, and shall be exalted.
As many were astonished at you—
his appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance,
and his form beyond that of the children of mankind—
so shall he sprinkle many nations.
Kings shall shut their mouths because of him,
for that which has not been told them they see,
and that which they have not heard they understand.

Here the prophet Isaiah tells us of the perspective of Yahweh, the God of Israel. These neighboring “Kings” of other nations were “astonished” by the humiliation of the “servant.” Nevertheless, these “Kings,” these onlookers, see things “for that which has not been told.” They have supposedly understood things “which they have not heard.” In other words, these onlookers have been mocking the Suffering Servant, saying things about the servant which were not true. So, it is God’s intent to “shut their mouths” because of what God will eventually do with the Suffering Servant. The purpose of Isaiah 53 is to lay out what the onlookers mockingly say about the Suffering Servant and contrast that with what God through the prophet Isaiah is really saying about that servant.

In other words, the big takeaway from Isaiah 53 is that it is not a monologue coming from the mouth of the prophet. Instead, it is a dialogue between the prophet Isaiah and those onlookers who are mocking Isaiah and the God he worships.

However, what makes translating and interpreting Isaiah 53 so difficult is that there are no obvious markers to show where the onlookers were speaking versus where the prophet was speaking on behalf of Yahweh. In ancient Hebrew, there are no quotation marks like what we have in English which designate when and where a speaker changes in a dialogue. We only have the literary context to go on in order to figure out when, where, and who is speaking. As a result, different scholars have tried to reconstruct this dialogue, but there is no clear established consensus as to what this exactly looks like.

 

Reconstructing the Dialogue in Isaiah 53

One possible reconstruction looks like this: Isaiah 53:10 in the Masoretic version, at least in the first part of the verse, gives us a portion of the dialogue from the perspective of the onlookers:

Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
he has put him to grief (ESV)

Essentially, the onlookers understand the people of Israel to be the “servant,” and they mockingly say: “Look at those pitiful people. Even the God they supposedly worship is punishing them.” However, the prophet wishes to say that these onlookers were in the wrong, It may have appeared that God was actively “crushing” the Suffering Servant. But the reality was not the case. In the next verse, the dialogue shifts back over to the prophet speaking on behalf of Yahweh, correcting the “fake news” being spread by the ill-informed onlookers:

Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied;
by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant,
make many to be accounted righteous,
and he shall bear their iniquities. (Isaiah 53:11 ESV)

Here in verse 11, the suffering of the Suffering Servant will be vindicated. We can see how this theme resonates with the New Testament, as Jesus, who is called “my servant” in verse 11, will “make many to be accounted righteous” through Christ’s work on the cross where “he shall bear their iniquities.”

That word for “crush” shows up again earlier in Isaiah 53, which suggests that the onlookers had made an earlier comment, mocking Israel as the Suffering Servant. We can see this starting midway in verse 4 through the middle of verse 5:

(verse 4b) yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
(verse 5) But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities (Isaiah 53:4b-5 ESV)

Not only were onlookers mocking the Suffering Servant as being “crushed” by God, the passage begins by the onlookers judging that the Suffering Servant had been “smitten by God, and afflicted.” In other words, the onlookers believed that God had forsaken and forgotten Israel, sending the people off into exile into Babylon.

Some scholars then suggest in verse 5 that the mention of “crushed” is actually the prophet’s way of mocking the onlookers as a rebuttal. In this reconstruction of the dialogue, the prophet’s response to the mocking of the onlookers begins in verse 5 and extends through verse 6:

(Verse 5) But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was “crushed” for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
(Verse 6) All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all (Isaiah 53:5-6 ESV, quotes added)

Putting the “crushed” in quotes indicates that the prophet is mocking the speech of the onlookers; thereby, Isaiah is mocking their mockery! Again, remember, the original Hebrew text has no quotation marks. We must rely on the context to figure out what is going on.

Instead, the prophet is saying that this chastisement of the Babylonian exile turns out not to be what the onlookers think it was. Instead of it being God judging the Suffering Servant as hopelessly lost and ultimately deserving of punishment, the suffering of Israel was meant to bring about healing. The vindication of Israel was now at hand, showing that God had not forgotten the Hebrew people.

Bringing this into the New Testament context about the work of Christ on the cross, we see how the “wounds” of Christ on the cross were meant for good, in that “we are healed.” Those who have “gone astray,” which would include “every one,” were now given the opportunity to have their sins taken away from them, which fits in perfectly with the New Testament idea that Christ died for our sins.

Scholars still debate as to the best way to reconstruct this dialogue between the onlookers and the prophet, considering the ambiguity of the original Hebrew, where we have no obvious signals to help us. Yet hopefully you can get the idea that a flat reading of Isaiah 53, as being 100 percent voiced by the prophet, without any voice from skeptical onlookers, simply does not work well in a coherent fashion. These short snippets of Isaiah 53 demonstrate that we need to be careful with how we read the Old Testament, before trying to figure out how this famous chapter of the Bible fits in with the New Testament.

What then do we do with the differences found in the Septuagint version of Isaiah 53? The differences are not trivial. The fact that the earliest Christians defaulted to the Septuagint, and not the Masoretic reading, raises a number of questions which need to be addressed. Granted, in a few cases the writers of the New Testament did prioritize the Hebrew over the Greek translation of an Old Testament passage, but not here in Isaiah 53. The Greek Septuagint translation of Isaiah 53 is consistently referenced throughout the entire New Testament.

Scholars of the Septuagint do wrestle with this, but one thing to consider is that the translators of the Septuagint probably understood well the difficulty of translating Isaiah 53.  How were these ancient translators to bring the Hebrew thought over into the Greek language, and still have it make sense to Greek speakers in the ancient world?

One proposition that I find convincing is that the Septuagint translators thought it to be too confusing to try to reconstruct a sophisticated Hebrew dialogue into a Greek text. Instead, they sought to preserve the meaning of original Hebrew by flattening out the whole dialogue. Instead, the translators make Isaiah 53 to sound like the singular speech of the prophet, thus making it easier to understand for the Greek reader.

 

Reconstructing and Reconciling the Different Voices in Isaiah 53

At the risk of getting too lost in the weeds, compare what the Masoretic text version of Isaiah 53 says, versus below that, what the Septuagint version says. Focus on the highlighted portions. The Septuagint version is from the NKJV translation of the Old Testament found in the Orthodox Study Bible, used by Eastern Orthodox Christians. Let us start with the Hebrew version; that is, the Masoretic text.

Here is the Masoretic version:

(1) Who has believed what he has heard from us?
And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
(2) For he grew up before him like a young plant,
and like a root out of dry ground;
he had no form or majesty that we should look at him,
and no beauty that we should desire him.
(3) He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

(4) Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
(5) But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
(6) All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.

(7) He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
yet he opened not his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
so he opened not his mouth.
(8) By oppression and judgment he was taken away;
and as for his generation, who considered
that he was cut off out of the land of the living,
stricken for the transgression of my people?
(9) And they made his grave with the wicked
and with a rich man in his death,
although he had done no violence,
and there was no deceit in his mouth.

(10) Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for guilt,
he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days;
the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.
(11) Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied;
by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant,
make many to be accounted righteous,
and he shall bear their iniquities.
(12) Therefore I will divide him a portion with the many,
and he shall divide the spoil with the strong,
because he poured out his soul to death
and was numbered with the transgressors;
yet he bore the sin of many,
and makes intercession for the transgressors.

Notice how difficult it is to track where the dialogue transitions from one speaker to another. The pronouns themselves keep moving around so much, it can be terribly confusing to figure out what is really going on. Contrast that with the Septuagint version, translated into English, with the style of the NKJV.  Highlighted are the main differences you can find in the Septuagint versus the Masoretic version above:

(1) O Lord, who has believed our report,
and to whom was the arm of the Lord revealed?
(2) We proclaimed His presence as a Child,
as a Root in a thirsty land.
He had no form or glory, and we saw Him;
and He had no form or beauty.
(3) But in comparison to all men, His form was lacking in honor.
He was a man in suffering and knew how to bear sickness.
His face was turned away,
and He was dishonored and not esteemed.

(4) He bears our sins and suffers for us,
yet we considered Him to be in pain, suffering, and ill-treatment.
(5) But He was wounded because of our lawlessness,
and became sick because of our sins.
The chastisement of our peace was upon Him,
and by His bruise we are healed.
(6) All we like sheep have gone astray.
Man has gone astray in his way,
and the Lord delivered Him over for our sins.

(7) Although He was ill-treated,
He opened not His mouth.
He was led as a sheep to the slaughter,
and as a lamb is silent before his shearers, so He opens not His mouth.
(8) In His humiliation His judgment was taken away,
and who will declare His generation?
For His life is taken from the earth,
and because of the lawlessness of My people He was led to death.
(9) I will appoint evil men for His burial
and rich men for His death,
because He committed no lawlessness,
nor was deceit found in His mouth.

(10) The Lord wishes to cleanse Him of His wound,
and if You give an offering for sin,
Your soul shall see a long-lived seed.
(11) The Lord wishes to take away the pain of His soul,
to show Him light, to form Him with understanding,
and to pronounce righteous the Righteous One who serves many well;
and He shall bear their sins.
(12) Therefore He shall inherit many,
and will divide the spoil with the strong,
because His soul was delivered over to death.
He was considered among the lawless,
and He bore the sins of many,
and was delivered over because of their sins.

Notice how the Septuagint changes the meaning of what the onlookers say to reflect what the prophet Isaiah wishes us to understand. By doing this, the Septuagint translators are preserving the meaning of the entire passage, to fit within the singular speech of the prophet, assisting the reader by simplifying the text for the sake of a better understanding.

At best, one might conclude that the Septuagint translators still preserve both voices, namely that of the onlookers and the prophet, but that in their translation the onlookers are no longer mocking the Suffering Servant. Instead, they have now repented of their mockery and have aligned their thoughts with that of the prophet.

Look at verse 4b, first from the Masoretic:

yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.

Now from the Septuagint:

yet we considered Him to be in pain, suffering, and ill-treatment.

In the Masoretic version, the onlookers accused God of afflicting judgment upon the Suffering Servant. In contrast, the Septuagint leaves God out of it, simply acknowledging plight of the Suffering Servant.  If in the Septuagint, both voices are preserved, then the “we” moves from representing the mocking onlookers, to the “we” of the onlookers now in the state of repentance, for now they no longer accuse God of rejecting the Suffering Servant as being deserving of such a terrible plight.

However, if in the Septuagint, only one voice is preserved, namely that of the prophet, the “we” in the Masoretic is still that of mocking onlookers, but the “we” in the Septuagint is now the prophet and Yahweh; that is, God, whom the prophet is representing. While the exact state of the voice or voices is not completely clear in the Septuagint of Isaiah 53, the messaging in the Septuagint is more streamlined and consistent: God did not punish the Suffering Servant, but rather the Suffering Servant was punished by the enemies of God. In the end, the Suffering Servant will be vindicated, thereby silencing the mocking onlookers; that is,

Kings shall shut their mouths because of him

explicitly made clear in the chapter prior to Isaiah 53 (Isaiah 52:15).

I can concede that coming up with an exact reconstruction as to what the Greek translators of the Septuagint were trying to do is not easy. But we need not conclude with a pessimistic cynicism. Critics today on either side of the translation question may conclude that the Masoretic and Septuagint versions are in hopeless contradiction with one another. But when seen in the context of trying to parse through the debate of where and when the speaker changes in this passage, the contradiction evaporates.

Some even say that the Septuagint translators were rather sloppy, making them prone to mistakes, when actually, they were highly skilled in what they were doing. Others may say that the Jews of the early Masoretic textual tradition deliberately changed; that is, corrupted, Old Testament passages, such as the text of Isaiah 53, in order to rule out the Christian reading favored by the Greek readers of the Hebrew Bible, despite the fact that we have no evidence these early Masoretic Jews did such a thing. Neither of these cynical judgments about the difficulties of Isaiah 53 have any weight when considered in the light of this proposition, which I find convincing, even if some of the more specific details about where, when, and who are left unresolved.

Another Way to Sing “Jesus, Thank You”

Unfortunately, a lot of Christians, both lay persons and scholars alike, miss this careful and nuanced understanding of how Isaiah 53 works in terms of its literary flow and construction. This explains why we have worship songs like Pat Szcebel’s “Jesus, Thank You,” which leave us with lines like:

You the perfect Holy One, crushed Your Son
Who drank the bitter cup reserved for me

Can you work it out to make these lines fit together with what is really going on in Isaiah 53 as you sing it? Yes, you can. But it does take some reflective and deep dive bible study to flesh out what is happening in the text of Scripture.

In fairness, verse 2 of “Jesus, Thank You,” is much less problematic than the first verse. This verse rehearses the theme of Jesus, the Son of God, as the Suffering Servant, and it ties in well with a more robust theology of what happened on the Cross at Calvary.

By Your perfect sacrifice I’ve been brought near
Your enemy You’ve made Your friend
Pouring out the riches of Your glorious grace
Your mercy and Your kindness know no end

We, who were once enemies due to our sin, have been made friends of God, by Jesus’ sacrificial act upon the Cross. Because of the corruption of sin in the human heart, it is quite normal to think of ourselves as “enemies” of God. Like the onlookers of the surrounding Gentile nations who mocked the Jewish people and their God, it was at first understandable that the people who were marched off from Jerusalem to Babylon during the Exile had become “enemies” of Yahweh, their God.  The destruction of Solomon’s Temple and the fall of Jerusalem would have signaled to those Gentile nations that something had gone terribly wrong with these Hebrew people, and their God.

But Isaiah was given a prophetic understanding which undid all of that mockery. These despised and afflicted people would soon find restoration. They would be able to leave Babylon and go back and rebuild their holy city with its Temple. They would no longer be regarded as “enemies” of God, but rather as “friends.”

Isaiah turned out be right. The refugees who were marched off to go to Babylon were vindicated. The stories in Ezra and Nehemiah show that God had indeed orchestrated events such that the people did return to the land, rebuilding their Temple.

But the story is not simply about the Babylonian Exile and the restoration of the Jewish homeland.  For one thing, a lot of Jews during the Second Temple period did not feel like they had fully returned from Exile. Living under Roman rule did feel like the full restoration Isaiah had promised.

However, this was God’s plan all along, to give the Jews who heard Jesus’ preaching a hunger and a hope for an even greater Restoration.  What Isaiah had prophesied prefigured an even greater story which has changed all of human history:  the coming of the Messiah, Jesus, as the Suffering Servant, who would take away the sins of the whole world.

Typologically speaking, if you substitute in for the exiled Jewish people the peoples of all of the world, both Jew and Gentile, a picture of the Gospel emerges. Those who once appeared to be estranged from God, resulting from their sin, have now been brought back to God as friends, reconciled to God through the work of the new Suffering Servant, Jesus the Messiah.

Now, that is a song I can sing whole-heartedly!!

Just a word of warning: Trying to spell out all of how the mechanics work can get us into trouble. The big picture is what ultimately matters. It is sufficient to celebrate this as a glorious mystery.

 

Challenges to Reading Isaiah 53 as a Shifting Dialogue

Some might still not be convinced: The drawback to my position, in accepting the proposition of a dialogue in the Masoretic text between the mocking onlookers and the prophet speaking on behalf of God, is that there is no consensus view among scholars as to the exact places where and how the dialogue transitions from one speaker to another.

But we find some early church fathers adopting, to some measure, a variation of a type of dialogue taking place in Isaiah 53, even if that dialogue does not match up directly with the position I am advocating for. For example, early church teachers, such as Origen and Eusebius of Caesarea, picked up on the concept of shifting voices in Isaiah 53, without clearly identifying the perspectives of these various voices.

Since there were Christians in the early days of the Christian movement, who were trying to figure out how the Hebrew and Greek versions of Psalm 53 fit together, then the proposal which I am offering here is hardly “new.”

The other views, which suppose that either words have changed their meaning over time somehow, or that the language of “to crush” is more figurative in Isaiah 53, or that Isaiah 53 is concerned about God’s ultimate sovereignty as opposed to naming intermediate causes, are still possible but they are more speculative. Furthermore, because these other views do not consider the complexities of the Septuagint, they come across as more innovative across the long history of Christian thinking. Plus, these other views invite more skepticism among critics who are offended by the language of God “crushing” anyone. Why would God “crush” anyone he truly loves?

I have read where many fine evangelical scholars get fooled by the idea that God actively “crushed” Jesus, as in God punishing Jesus, simply because they have never grasped the plausibility of the “dialogue” view which I find convincing. These scholars may think that God the Father “crushed” Jesus, who was and is God’s Son, in the negative sense of God the Father unleashing the full extent of his anger against the innocent, kind, and more merciful Son.

In doing so, such scholars may conclude that God was somehow “punishing” Jesus, or that God “killed” Jesus. In a sense, Jesus as the passive Son of God was simply in the position of being a human “punching bag” which the Father could vent out all of his anger on, as opposed to punishing us truly sinful humans.

However, appearances can be deceiving, as the onlookers soon realized, according to Isaiah. For to conclude with such a negative reading of a God who “crushed [His] Son,” this can lead Christians into a theological quagmire, implying that God the Father and God the Son were somehow at odds with one another, acting with cross-purposes (forgive the pun!) at the Cross of Jesus. If someone comes to that conclusion, this effectively divides the persons of the Godhead from one another, severing the unity of God found in the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity. Yet the doctrine of the Trinity was articulated so beautifully and well at the Council of Nicaea, and it remains the standard for historic orthodox Christianity.

To attack the integrity of the Trinity is not a good idea…. and not a very appealing view of God’s character either.

Instead, what appears to be the act of God “crushing” the Son gets turned around. Our sin which crushes us gets crushed, and we get reconciled to God in the process.

Now, that kind of twist to the story is pretty cool!! What an awesome God we find in Jesus!!

(See my Veracity review of John R.W. Stott’s marvelous The Cross of Christ to get a better handle on this)

 

A Better Way to Read Isaiah 53, Understand the Meaning of Christ’s Death, and How the Early Church Read the Bible

For me, making the best sense of Isaiah 53:10, and how the New Testament writers saw Isaiah 53 as one of key Old Testament texts to unlock the meaning of Christ’s death for our sins, is to say something like this: God, the Father, in his sovereignty, according to his divine will, has always wanted the human creatures he created to be reconciled to him, and brought into fellowship with God. To do so, God had to deal with the problem of sin, to cleanse us from our sin, and therefore he was “pleased” that such a way could be found to do that through the sacrificial death of God the Son. Furthermore, the intentions of God the Son were in perfect harmony with the intentions of the Father.

The mocking onlookers claimed that Yahweh had “crushed” the Suffering Servant, implying typologically that God the Father “crushed” Jesus. But this perspective is wrong. Far from indicating that the mission of Jesus was a failure, as evidenced by the death of Christ on the cross, the crucifixion followed by the resurrection demonstrated that Jesus had victoriously conquered sin, death, evil, and the devil, in one fell swoop.

At first glance, it would appear that the Father was “crushing” the Son. But there is more to the story. Instead, God was effectively “cleansing” us from our sins, through the death of Jesus on the cross. The Father took no pleasure in seeing that the Son was crushed, in and of itself, but rather, was pleased instead with the outcome which resulted; that is, that sins would be forgiven and humanity reconciled to God, for all those who would cling to the Son. It was in this that God was satisfied: those who would believe in this Messiah would be reconciled to God, instead of receiving the just punishment they would have otherwise deserved..

God’s satisfaction in securing our salvation through Jesus’ death on the cross has been guaranteed. Satisfaction guaranteed.

There you have it. A line from a popular worship song leads us to grapple with how the earliest Christians incorporated the Greek translation of the Old Testament into their thinking, as they thought through the meaning of the death of Christ. Granted, this is all a little messy. But once you see what is really going on in Isaiah 53, it becomes difficult to un-see it. This is what can make a deep dive into the study of Scripture so fascinating and rewarding.

I would love to read about your thoughts here in the comments.

 

 


The Septuagint: What It Is and Why It Matters

Even people who only go to church around Easter and particularly Christmas probably know this story. Joseph is betrothed to Mary, and he soon discovers that Mary is pregnant…. and they are not even married yet.

Was there another man in the picture? Someone Joseph does not know about? Either way, Joseph as a betrothed man was in a pickle.[1]

The scandal of Mary’s pregnancy is “pregnant” with meaning. Old Greek translations of the Old Testament, which were familiar to the earliest Christians, help us to solve the mystery.

 

It will look sketchy for Joseph’s reputation if the baby is born less than nine months after the wedding. It looks even worse for Mary. Joseph was thinking that perhaps the best thing for everyone would be for him to divorce Mary quietly.

Then an angel appears to him in a dream, telling Joseph to chill out, for all of this had been foretold by the prophet Isaiah, hundreds of years before:

Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and they shall call his name Immanuel” (Matthew 1:23, quoting Isaiah 7:14).

Along with other passages, such as Galatians 4:4, this is where Christians get the idea of the Virgin Birth from.

But the story behind the story is even trickier than it sounds. If you go back and read what Matthew is quoting, Isaiah 7:14, most Bible translations say pretty much the same thing: “The virgin shall conceive.

We get the idea. Mary was a virgin when she became pregnant with Jesus. It was a divine miracle that happened.[2]

But if you read some other Bible translations, such as the NRSVue, there is a startling difference in Isaiah 7:14:

Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son and shall name him Immanuel“.

The “virgin” is no longer a “virgin.” She is simply a “young woman.” Well, it is possible for a “young woman” to be a “virgin.” But why is there a difference?[3]

The answer, in a nutshell, has to do with something called the “Septuagint.” Most Christians have probably heard about the(?) “Septuagint,” but only have some vague idea as to what it is or was.

Unpacking what the Septuagint is risks oversimplification. At the most basic level, the “Septuagint” is known as an ancient Bible translation, much like something like the NIV, the NRSVue, the ESV, or some other English translation. But in the case of the “Septuagint“, it was a Greek translation of the Old Testament, originally written in Hebrew, and it was effectively “the Bible” of the earliest Christians, before there was a “New Testament.

Already, the term “Septuagint” has become this rather slippery thing. So, what is this “Septuagint” all about…. and what does it have to do with the “Virgin Birth?”

 

The Septuagint: What It Is and Why It Matters, by Greg Lanier and William A. Ross gives the reader a solid introduction to the Old Greek translation of the Bible, which was effectively the Bible of the early church. However, even this designation can be misleading, as the real story behind the Septuagint is more complex and interesting than it initially sounds.

 

What Is A Septuagint?

Greg Lanier and William Ross have written an introduction to the subject: The Septuagint: What It Is and Why It Matters. Lanier’s and Ross’ fascinating book dives into the mystery of the “Septuagint,” so that you have a better idea of what is going on when you sit down and study the Bible, or at least, make better sense of what the whole controversy regarding the “Virgin Birth” story told at Christmas is all about.

The biggest chunk of the Old Testament was originally written in Hebrew, the ancient language of the Jewish people. After the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 C.E.,  Masoretic Jewish families eventually rose up within a few hundred years to effectively maintain the Hebrew Bible over the centuries, as Jews were scattered all across the Mediterranean and elsewhere. Today, we owe a huge debt to these Masoretic Jews for preserving the Old Testament in Hebrew. But much like the story of the rise and fall of Latin in Europe, Jewish communities were not always consistent adherents to their ancient language.

Prior to the time of Jesus, when Alexander the Great came along, in the 4th century BCE, the story of the Bible got quite a bit more interesting. When Alexander the Great conquered an immense part of the then known world, the lasting legacy of Alexander’s rise to power was the spread of the Greek language. In the centuries leading up to Christ’s birth, Greek had become the lingua franca, the language of trade in the ancient world of the eastern Mediterranean, much like how English functions today as the global language of trade.

The most famous city associated with Alexander the Great was a highly active port city on the coast of the Mediterranean in Egypt, Alexandria. In those centuries leading up to Christ’s birth, a large Jewish community settled in and around Alexandria, and up river along the Nile, as far south as an island in the river, named Elephantine.

A complete record is difficult to come by, but some historians say that there were perhaps a million, if not more, Jews living in Egypt during the earthly life of Jesus. Some say that the Jewish community in Egypt even dwarfed the size of the Jewish community that settled in and around Jerusalem, in Israel.

As a result, this large group of Jews in Egypt began to lose familiarity with their ancient Hebrew language. There was a huge need to have a translation of the Hebrew Bible into their common language, Greek. The so-called “Septuagint” filled that need.

The story of the Septuagint goes back to the Letter of Aristeas, though most scholars today highly question the historical accuracy of the letter. Nevertheless, some of the underlying ideas from the Letter of Aristeas ring true.

In the Letter of Aristeas, it documents a request made by Alexandrian Greek royal officials to find a way to get a Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible placed into the great library of Alexandria, perhaps the largest repository of books in the ancient world. In exchange for returning a group of Jewish prisoners of war, the high priest of the Jerusalem Temple was asked to send six scholars from each of the twelve tribes of Israel to come to Egypt to do the translation work. These seventy-two scholars lived on an island off of the coast of Egypt, independently from one another while they did their work. When the work was completed, they ended up with seventy-two exact copies, word-for-word of the Hebrew Bible now in Greek. It was deemed as a miracle of God.

Right off the top, there are problems with this story. First, the word “Septuagint” is derived from the Latin word for “seventy,” which in Roman numerals is “LXX.” Clearly, “seventy” is not the same as “seventy-two.” Furthermore, it was not the entire Hebrew Bible which was translated at this point. Rather it was the first five books of the Bible, the Pentateuch, which were translated.

The rest of the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek later. But the term “Septuagint” is often associated with the entire Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures, which did constitute “the Bible” for the earliest Christians, before the New Testament was completed and canonized. Scholars today generally call this the “Greek Old Testament,” but in common usage, the “Septuagint” or “LXX” has become the default term for this Greek Old Testament.

How Many Septuagints?

It is probably better to speak of multiple “Septuagints” as opposed to just one, but as Lanier and Ross say, we are probably just stuck with the terminology of “Septuagint” in the singular. Several efforts were made to translate the Hebrew Scriptures into Greek over several centuries before the birth of Jesus. Not only that, but several other texts originally written in Greek were also added to the Septuagint collection. Most of these texts became controversial in Christian history, as they lacked an original Hebrew source.

Among Protestants, these “Greek-only” texts are generally known as the “Apocrypha,” whereas in Roman Catholicism, these texts are known as being “Deutero-canonical,” meaning “second canon.” The Eastern Orthodox tradition has an even more expansive collection, depending on what branch of Eastern Orthodoxy you are talking about.

On top of that we have various translations of the Old Testament into Greek from Jewish scholars like Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion, on into the early Christian era. For example, in the second century, we find Christians citing the Book of Daniel as translated by Theodotion. One of Christianity’s earliest scholars, Origen of Alexandria, sought to make sense of all of these various forms of the Septuagint, in how the Hebrew was translated into Greek. Origen’s Hexapla sought to compare the major instances of these Greek translations, to figure out how well they drew from the Hebrew Scriptures.

As the Jewish and Christian movements began to spread apart, so did the overlap between the two communities regarding the status of the Septuagint start to fragment. In the wake of the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 C.E., rabbinic Judaism began to distance itself from the Greek Old Testament, as this was thought to be the Bible of the Christians. Instead, the Jews looked more towards a smaller canon of Scripture, the original Old Testament texts written in Hebrew. This “parting of the ways” between Jews and Christians had an impact on how Christians viewed the canon of the Old Testament.

The issue for the Christian community really came to a head in the early 5th century, when a series of letters were exchanged between the two biggest Christian intellectual voices of the day: Jerome and Augustine.

Battle Between Two Titans: Jerome Versus Augustine

Jerome was working on a translation of the Bible into Latin, but he preferred to only translate from the original Hebrew, following the pattern which the Jews had set. As a result, Jerome held to a lower view of the Septuagint, as it was only a translation itself, and for many books of the Septuagint, there were no Hebrew sources readily available behind these books, the Apocrypha or Deutero-canonical.

Augustine fired back his letters to Jerome, in defense of the Septuagint. Jerome felt the heat, as he went ahead and included numerous books from these “Greek-only” texts into his Latin Bible translation, the Vulgate, anyway. Augustine, on the other hand, while championing the Septuagint, was ironically not a skilled Greek reader. Augustine’s native tongue was Latin, and he knew little if any Hebrew, thus lacking the linguistic breadth of knowledge which Jerome had. It was an argument which would continue on well after the deaths of Augustine and Jerome.

In the 16th century in the Christian West, the debate ratcheted up to the point that the Roman Catholic Church at the Council of Trent formally argued in favor of Augustine’s position, that of acknowledging the so-called “Apocrypha,” including texts like Judith, Tobit, 1 and 2 Maccabees, etc. as at least having the status of “Deutero-canonical“. The Protestants, in turn, had taken the more restrictive approach, opting in favor of Jerome’s position, which is why Protestant Bibles today look the way they are, regarding the Old Testament.

Lanier and Ross suggest that the role of the Apocrypha or Deutero-canon has a parallel with something like the literature of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle-Earth stories. Any fan of Tolkien will tell you that the definitive canon of Tolkien’s works would include The Hobbit, and the three books which make up The Lord of the Rings Trilogy.

However, what does one do with The Silmarillion, the extended material which Tolkien began to write, but was only completed by the editorial work of Tolkien’s son, Christopher. Die-hard fans of Tolkien will tell you that you can not fully grasp the story of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings without having The Silmarillion as a background. Lanier and Ross also bring up the analogy of the “Director’s Cut,” regarding certain DVD versions of classic movies, to describe the Septuagint’s contributions to the Hebrew Bible (Lanier and Ross, p. 127).

Moses by Michelangelo, at the Church of San Pietro, in Vincoli, in Rome, Italy. Check out the horns on Moses’ head!! I took this photo from our trip to Rome in October, 2018.

 

Why Should I Care About the Septuagint?….  (Where Did Moses Get Those Horns??)

As Lanier and Ross note, there are several reasons why the Septuagint matters for Christians today. First, the Septuagint helps us to understand some of the ambiguities we find in understanding the Hebrew text, and how they should be best interpreted.

For example, in Exodus 34:29-30, when Moses comes down from Mt. Sinai, the Hebrew text uses a rare Hebrew word derived from “horn” to describe what Moses looked like, describing the luminescence of his face. This led some Renaissance artists to depict Moses as having horns on his head as he came down from the mountain with the Ten Commandments. But the Septuagint translates this obscure Hebrew word as “glorify,” to describe what happened to Moses (Lanier and Ross, pp. 118-119). The ESV translation renders this word from the verb “to shine.

The lesson here should be straight-forward. When Moses descends from Mt. Sinai, he is not physically growing horns out of his head. There is one place in the Bible where this obscure Hebrew word, “qa-ran,” really means “horn.” In Psalm 69:31, we read: “This will please the Lord more than an ox or a bull with horns and hoofs.” But that is not the meaning of the word in Exodus 34:29-30, because the context is different.

Instead, this obscure Hebrew word which is associated with “horn” has a wider range of meaning, which can appeal to certain kinds of metaphors. The use of a “horn,” as in “blowing a horn,” signifies that someone is in the presence of strength, majesty, and divine connection. The Septuagint translator picked up on this and translated the Hebrew as “glorify” instead of just “horn,” which illuminates the meaning intended by the ambiguous Hebrew terminology. Therefore, we are not talking about some kind of divine miracle whereby horns appear mysterious ex nihilo out of Moses’ head.

We do not need to invent a miracle and place it into the storyline of the text if there is no warrant for it. Rather, the meaning is closer to what is found in something like the ESV translation: “Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God.

Secondly, the Septuagint helps us to better understand how the writers of the New Testament made use of the Old Testament. More times than not, the New Testament quotes from a Greek translation of the Old Testament rather than from the Hebrew. As Lanier and Ross put it: “For such students of the Bible, the mysterious ‘Septuagint’ becomes a kind of portal to a whole new world ” (Lanier and Ross, p. 131).

However, it is important not to oversimplify the idea that the Septuagint was “the Bible” of the early church, as such a statement, while broadly true, can be misleading. For example, the ordering of the Ten Commandments in the Old Testament differs between the Hebrew text, as well as various versions of the Greek translations of the Hebrew, which even differ from one another.

Is the order of the Ten Commandments (partially) to read as not to commit murder, adultery, or steal in Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5? Or do you go with the Septuagint version of Exodus, as not to commit adultery, steal, or murder, or the Septuagint version of Deuteronomy not to commit adultery, murder, or steal?  You can get a flavor of this by looking at how different passages of the New Testament partially list out the order of the Ten Commandments, as in Matt. 19:18; Mark 10:19; Luke 18:20; Rom. 13:9; James 2:11.

Another example Lanier and Ross cite (p. 137) is when different Greek versions of the New Testament are used to quote from Daniel:

‘For instance, Matthew 26:64 describes the “Son of Man” coming “on [Gk. epi] the clouds,” reflecting the Old Greek of Daniel 7:13—while Luke 21:27 reads, “in [Gk. en] the clouds,” reflecting the tradition of Theodotion.’

One Greek “Septuagint” translation has the word “on” whereas Theodotion’s “Septuagint” translation has the word “in,” resulting in a slight change of meaning. While “the Septuagint” offers different readings at times, the basic tenor of the Greek translation efforts holds together rather well. But there were times that reading different Greek “Septuagints” can make for slightly different understandings of the text, when digging deep into the details.

In other words, no one in the first century of Christianity was walking around with a single copy of “the Septuagint” that they picked up from Barnes and Nobles bookstore tucked under their arm. Just as Christians today might use multiple translations of the Bible today in English to gain a better understanding of the text, the earliest Christians did so as well.

 

Codex Sinaiticus, includes the earliest complete copy of the Septuagint (LXX), the Greek translation of the Old Testament used by the early church (credit: bible archaeology.org)

 

The Septuagint and Biblical Inerrancy: Requires Some Nuance

Understanding the role of the Septuagint can help in discussions about biblical inerrancy. For example, in Acts 7:14, Luke quotes Genesis 46.27 to say that when Joseph was assisting his brothers during the famine, Joseph sent for “seventy-five” of his family to come to Egypt. But in the Hebrew, Genesis 46:27 says “seventy,” not “seventy-five.” Does this indicate an error in the Bible?

One popular way to deal with this is to say that it was Stephen, in his speech in Acts 7, who was mistaken regarding the number of Israelites Joseph summoned from Israel. Nevertheless, Luke accurately and faithfully records Stephen’s speech, thereby guarding inerrancy. Stephen was wrong, but it was what Luke wrote down that matters, and Luke is without an error.

Well, sort of. I get this popular way of handling this difficulty, but I still am a bit cautious. This way of defending biblical inerrancy seems a little like cheating to me.

Lanier and Ross point to a better solution, namely that Stephen by way of Luke was following the Old Greek translation of the Genesis 46:27, and not the Hebrew. They say that there were different methods of counting Jacob’s descendants, and that the Hebrew and Old Greek version followed these different methods (Lanier and Ross, p. 151). In other words, along with Genesis 46:27, Stephen and Luke are both right, but in different ways, by following different counting methods to reach their respective conclusions.

 

The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Septuagint

This brings up a point that further upholds the importance of the Septuagint, and that is the relationship between Old Greek traditions with the Dead Sea Scrolls. The Dead Sea Scrolls, discovered in a cave in the 1940s, has revolutionized the study of the Bible in our day. As it turns out, in numerous places, the Dead Sea Scrolls align more with the Septuagint readings than the Hebrew reading preserved in the Masoretic Hebrew texts. What is so important about this connection is that the Dead Sea Scrolls predate our earliest copies of the Hebrew Masoretic tradition by about one thousand years!

Let us jump back to the previous passage to see how this works. The Septuagint (or “Old Greek“) version of Genesis 46:27 reads:

“And the sons of Joseph who were born to him in the land of Egypt were nine persons; all the persons of the house of Jacob who entered into Egypt were seventy-five.”

But we see the same reading in various Dead Sea Scroll documents, such as 4QExodb (4Q13) and 4QExoda (4Q1). All read “seventy-five.”

This in contrast with the Masoretic reading of just “seventy,” which interestingly is preserved in yet a different Dead Sea Scroll document, 4QpaleoGen-Exod (4Q11), which also reads as “seventy.”  This demonstrates that both the “seventy” and “seventy-five” readings were preserved in Old Testament documents before the arrival of the Christian New Testament.

 

“Adoration of the Shepherds,” by Gerard van Honthorst, 1622. (credit Wikipedia: The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202)

 

Back to the Virgin Birth: How the New Testament Uses the Old Testament

Let us circle back to where we started.

Underneath the Jerome versus Augustine controversy was the very heart of the matter; that is, the use of the Greek translations of the Old Testament by the New Testament authors themselves to make their case for Christianity. The Septuagint does differ in numerous places from the original Hebrew text. Returning back to the famous prophecy from Isaiah about the birth of the Messiah can help to illustrate the point.

Not too long ago, I listened to Eastern Orthodox priest and scholar Father Stephen De Young making an interesting claim about Matthew’s use of Isaiah 7:14, which affirms the Virgin Birth of Jesus. In Matthew 1:23, the Gospel writer is quoting from the Septuagint version of Isaiah 7:14, and not the Masoretic Hebrew version of Isaiah 7:14, the latter which uses the Hebrew word “almah” to refer to the woman who would conceive and bear a child. A translation like the NRSVue follows the Hebrew reading, and not the Greek reading. The Hebrew word “almah” simply means “a young woman,” and not necessarily a “virgin.

However, the Septuagint uses the Greek word “parthenos” which is typically translated as “virgin.” At first glance, it looks as though most English Bible translations today tend to “cheat” a bit when translating Isaiah 7:14, as normally such translations follow the Hebrew Masoretic and not the Septugaint. But when it comes to Isaiah 7:14, you typically find the word “virgin” and not the phrase “a young woman.

But when English Bible translations do this, are they really “cheating?

Stephen De Young suggests a provocative explanation as to what is taking place in this verse. He contends that while the word “parthenos” did have the meaning of “virgin” in the first century, when the Gospel of Matthew was written, “parthenos” originally had the meaning of “a young woman” a few centuries earlier when Isaiah was first translated into Greek, thus mirroring the mean of the Hebrew word “almah.” But in the providence of God, the meaning of the word “parthenos” changed over time, such that by the first century C.E., the meaning of “virgin” for “parthenos” had become normative. As evidence, De Young argues that by the second century C.E., the word “parthenos” was also used to refer to a male who was a virgin, and not simply “a young woman.

Not every English Bible translation does this, but if you look carefully in a Bible translation’s footnotes, they will often put a note saying “Septuagint” or “LXX” to indicate when the translator diverges from the Masoretic Hebrew.[4]

There is no ominous conspiracy here to “change” the meaning of the Bible. Instead, it is a judicious use of good scholarship to give you a Bible which you can better understand.

The Authority of the Septuagint?

The final question which Lanier and Ross raise in their book of less than 200 pages is about the nature of the authority of the Septuagint for Christians: Does the Septuagint have some kind of authority for the Christian, in their study of the Bible?  Two basic schools of thought have dominated the Christian world for centuries in this debate. One approach has been to favor the Hebrew text of the Old Testament, as found in the Masoretic textual tradition used by the ancient Jewish community. Some in this school tend to dismiss the Septuagint translators as clumsy or prone to error. Lanier and Ross would argue that this is a mistake, as they make the case that the Septuagint translators were quite competent in doing their work.

The other approach favors the Greek version of the Old Testament, which has prompted some extreme defenders to claim that the Jews purposefully altered the Masoretic tradition in order to eliminate Christian readings of the Old Testament. Lanier and Ross do not favor this approach either.

Given the fact that the New Testament writers, when quoting from the Old Testament, were sometimes users of the Hebrew, but who mostly favored Greek versions of the text should suggest that a more robust way to think about the Septuagint lies somewhere between the two extremes. This should also encourage some exegetical humility among Christians today who try to make sense of difficult passages of Scripture whereby we do not have complete agreement between the Hebrew and the Greek.

Lanier and Ross are hesitant to conclude that the Septuagint has normative authority for Christians today. That spot is reserved for the Hebrew Bible. But the Septuagint can be used like any good English Bible translation today, to help to clarify meaning. This “Old Greek” translation of the Hebrew served that purpose for the earliest Christians, including the authors of our New Testament.

This might sit uncomfortably among those who think that we should have some fixed text for what we know as “the Bible,” as though the Bible somehow dropped down out of the sky. Yet the Bible is what it is, and whatever we think of something like “inerrancy,” in that “inerrancy” must take into account the actual data of what we have in our Bible. It would simply be wrong to try to impose some kind of modern understanding of “authority” onto these ancient texts of Scripture.[5]

As a result, Lanier and Ross conclude that the Septuagint possesses derivative authority, much like our best English translations of the Bible today. The Septuagint’s authority is “downstream from its normative text.” The way they put it is this:

…the New Testament authors, in reaching a Greek world, prioritized the faithful communication of the meaning of an Old Testament source text higher than punctilious adherence to a set (Hebrew) wording (Lanier and Ross, p. 186).

The meaning of the text takes priority over the exact words, which is a nuanced way of how to think about the Bible. Kudos go to Lanier and Ross for giving readers a helpful introduction to such a perplexing, yet important topic.[6] [7]

Several years ago, I read and reviewed Timothy Michael Laws’ When God Spoke Greek: The Septuagint and the Making of the Christian Bible. It was this book that made me realize what the Septuagint was with respect to Christianity, broadly speaking. Laws’ book focuses more on the history of the Septuagint, whereas this book, The Septuagint: What It Is and Why It Matters, by Greg Lanier and William Ross, gives you the history along with a perspective of what Bible scholars have to say about why the Septuagint matters for studying the Bible.  Lanier’s and Ross’ book is the perfect introduction for anyone who wants understand what their Bible is all about.

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ADDENDUM: Lanier’s and Ross’ book brought out so many tantalizing tidbits, but I did not want to clutter the main body of the blog post with all of them. For the curious, check out some of the rabbit trail notes (below) I gained from reading this book, referenced in the main text of the blog post …..

Notes

[1] As early as the second century in the history of Christianity, the doctrine of the Virgin Birth was a scandal. Some early critics of Christianity, like the second century pagan Celsus, say that Mary was impregnated by a Roman soldier named Pantera. There is debate among scholars as to how this story originated and how Celsus was informed about it. But the basic idea is that when the Romans sacked and burned the city of Sepphoris, which was within walking distance of Nazareth, in Galilee, Pantera was presumably among the Roman troops who must have encountered Mary, who was from nearby Nazareth. After the death of Herod, which according to the standard chronology was in 4 BCE (scholars debate about the date of Herod’s death), there was a Jewish revolt. Syrian governor Publius Quinctilius Varus sent an army to crush the revolt, burn the city, and ended up selling its inhabitants into slavery.  Back to text

[2] In other words, there is no guy named Pantera in the picture….. Attacks on the Virgin Birth by skeptics are not only based on a denial of the supernatural, they also take aim against the inerrancy of the Bible. Sadly, some well-meaning Christian apologetics distort what we can confidently say about the inspiration of the Bible, and its relation to inerrancy. As I have argued before, there are different definitions of biblical “inerrancy,” and we should be careful not to get too hung up on trying to demand a kind of technical precision from the text which was not within the intended purpose of the original author.  Furthermore, understanding how the New Testament uses the Old Testament should encourage us to take a step back and look at the larger picture of how prophecy in the Bible actually works, instead of trying to use popular ideas about “300 prophecies” being fulfilled by Jesus as some kind of miracle of mathematical improbability.  Is the coming of Jesus really about beating the mathematical odds of getting certain predictions right, or is it more about veiling the truth about the coming of the Messiah in a way that would catch the powers of darkness off-guard? The latter is a more defensible approach to Scripture.  Back to text

[3] The first Bible translation in English to do what the NRSVue does was its predecessor, the RSV, back in the late 1940s and 1950s. Some people got really upset about this. I wrote about this in a Veracity blog post a few years ago. Back to text

[4] The YouTube video clip from Father Stephen De Young was taken from a longer video stream, which has timestamps. … .In the ESV (English Standard Version), there are  several other well-known examples of the Septuagint taking precedence over the Masoretic reading:      Genesis 4:8: The ESV adds the phrase “Let us go out to the field” following the Septuagint and other ancient texts (where the Masoretic Text lacks the phrase). 1 Samuel 1:24: The ESV translates “a three-year-old bull” (with the Septuagint and Dead Sea Scrolls) instead of the Masoretic Text’s “three bullocks“. 1 Samuel 14:1: The ESV includes missing text—”has not the Lord anointed you…“—which is preserved in the Septuagint but missing from the Hebrew. Deuteronomy 32:8: The ESV translates “sons of God” alongside the Septuagint and Dead Sea Scrolls, diverging from the traditional Masoretic reading of “sons of Israel“. Back to text

[5] This suggests that we would do well to realize that the New Testament does things with the Old Testament which do not often fit within our modern expectations of an “inerrant” text, due to its reliance on a Septuagint, “Old Greek” tradition, but that this should in no way diminish its authority. Sometimes the New Testament follows the Hebrew text and not the Septuagint reading, as when Matthew 2:15 quotes the Hebrew “my son” of Hosea 11:1, but not the Old Greek, which is rendered as “my children.”  Contrast with Psalm 95:7-11, where the New Testament follows the Old Greek, with words like “rebellion” and “testing,” unlike the Hebrew, which has words like “Meribah” and “Massah.” The New Testament even appeals to Jewish tradition not found in the Hebrew text, and not even in any know Septuagint text, as when 2 Timothy 3:8 mentions the Egyptian magicians Jannes and Jambres, and yet we have no mention of them in Exodus. Eastern Orthodox priest Father Stephen De Young gives several other examples. Back to text

[6] This understanding of “derivative authority” is significant in how certain key texts in the Hebrew Bible were handled by Septuagint translators, as a means of settling debates concerning biblical interpretation. For example follow this rabbit trail:

 Psalm 82:1-8, when reading it in the Hebrew has often lended itself to be about a critique of Israelite judges, referred to as “gods” in Psalm 82:1,6 ,  who judge unwisely. This is different from the Septuagint reading which suggests that the “gods” of Psalm 82:1,6 are really divine beings, members of God’s divine council.  These “gods” were created by the uncreated Yahweh, so they do not stand on par with Yahweh, but they are still divine beings. Psalm 82 is significant in that Jesus refers to it in John 10:34-35, as a defense of his divinity. Since the New Testament authors tend to favor the Septuagint readings of Old Testament texts over Hebrew readings, it would make sense to say that Jesus in John 10:34-35 is referring himself as the unique “Son of God,” a clear defense of his divinity, a view favored by the late Michael Heiser.  (Heiser is not alone in his conclusion).

In the Naked Bible Podcast, Episode 109, Heiser argues that the reference to “gods” here in John 10 as mere humans actually undermines the force of Jesus’ argument. For if the reference to “gods” in John 10 were to describe mere humans, as the Jewish leaders were, it would be as though Jesus is saying something like, “Well, if you Jewish leaders, who are mere humans, can call yourselves ‘gods,” then why can I not do the same?

In contrast, Heiser makes the argument that Jesus is classified himself as a divine being, just as Psalm 82 declares. In other words, Jesus is not soft-pedaling an earlier claim that he as the Son is one with the Father (John 10:30). Rather, Jesus is not backing down!  Some scholars observe that Jesus is indeed quoting from the Septuagint version of Psalm 82 as opposed to the Hebrew reading (see John Beasley-Murray, Word Biblical Commentary on John, p. 640-641). The ESV translation of Psalm 82:1-8 lends itself to more naturally follow the Septuagint understanding of the Psalm 82, whereas the NASB 1995 follows a more Hebrew reading. It is important to note that the NASB revision in 2020 has been altered to follow the Septuagint reading.

Ironically, the notes in the ESV Study Bible favor the human judges interpretation of John 10:34-35, despite how the translation of Psalm 82 actually reads in that translation.  D.A. Carson rejects both the divine council reading, via the Septuagint, as well as the human judges reading, but instead prefers the view that Jesus’ reference to Psalm 82 in John 10 is to the receiving of the Law by the Israelites at Sinai. Carson holds this based mostly on v. 35 where Jesus says: “If he called them gods to whom the word of God came,” which for him recalls the Sinai context. Granted, there are rabbinical traditions which acknowledge this interpretation, something which in my reading of Michael Heiser, Heiser does not address.  But it could equally be said that the psalmist in Psalm 82 also received the word of God, just as much as those at Sinai did as well. Ironically, Carson admits that the use of “to whom the word of God came” is not an unusual theme throughout the whole Old Testament, as “most naturally [it is] to be understood as those to whom the message was spoken, and is frequently so used in the OT prophets, especially in Jer and Ezek)” (Carson, p. 643). Furthermore, there is no description of those at Sinai being referenced as “gods,” whereas the text is explicit about referencing “gods” in Psalm 82. In rejecting the divine council view, Carson pushes back by saying “the Fourth Gospel fails to mention angels or Melchizedek” (Carson, Pillar Commentary: Gospel of John, p. 398). However, the force of Carson’s counter-argument is lost in that the Gospel of John never elsewhere identifies the term “gods” with any mere human beings.

Interestingly, John Piper accepts Michael Heiser’s thesis that the “gods” of Psalm 82 are indeed divine beings (contra Carson). Like Heiser, Piper reads Psalm 82:7 to indicate that these “gods” are not human beings, as the verse says these “gods” will “die like men.” For if humans were indeed in view, it would make no sense for these “gods” to “die like men” if they are already men, and not gods. But it would make perfect sense for the Psalmist to say that these divine beings, who are presumably immortal, who also fall under God’s judgment, will become mortal like human beings as part of their punishment. Yet Piper’s position is that these divine beings are lesser “gods” than Yahweh. Therefore, in Piper’s view, Jesus’ reference to Psalm 82 is to deflect the conversation by suggesting that Jesus’ divine claim is not something that should necessarily lead to the charge of blasphemy, as one can be considered a “god” without being identified strictly as Yahweh, who stands above all of the other “gods.” By giving his hearers a theological puzzle to consider among themselves, Jesus is enabled to escape his accusers (John 10:39). This sort of works, except that in John 10:38, Jesus repeats the divine claim he made earlier in John 10:30. Furthermore, it would be odd for Jesus to use a passage of Scripture in order to confuse his listeners, in order to divert attention away from himself, in order to make his escape.

However, in contrast to both Carson and Piper, Heiser’s point is not simply that Jesus is making a divine claim in John 10:34-35. The claim is more concrete than that. Rather, Jesus is making the claim that his role in the divine council is one of executing judgment against the supernatural powers that are in rebellion to Yahweh. For Psalm 82 is all about a pronouncement of judgment against the “gods” who have failed to obey the will of Yahweh. By referencing Psalm 82 in John 10:34-35, Jesus is announcing the day of judgment is coming that he is the “Enforcer” of this judgment (See Heiser’s scholarly paper defending his view, along with Heiser’s powerpoint slides).  Not only is the coming of Jesus the coming of God into the world, it is a divine coming intent upon exercising judgment against those spiritual forces which are in rebellion to Yahweh. Contrast this with what the ESV Study Notes have for John 10:34-35:  “John 10:34 Jesus’ point in quoting Ps. 82:6 is that if human judges (Ps. 82:2–4) can in some sense be called gods (in light of their role as representatives of God), this designation is even more appropriate for the one who truly is the Son of God (John 10:33, 35–36).”

The ESV Study Notes have this for Psalm 82:  “Ps. 82:6 You are gods. John 10:34–35 tells how Jesus cited this text in a debate (see note on Ps. 82:1) to deflect criticism for calling himself the Son of God. Since the title “Son of God” is sometimes a designation of David’s heir (see note on 2:7), Jesus is probably inviting his audience to reflect more deeply on its implications. sons of the Most High. If these are Gentile rulers, they serve the purposes of God, who is the highest of all powers. This may suggest that Israelite rulers are especially in view, since Deut. 14:1calls God’s people his “sons” (i.e., the whole people is God’s “son,” cf. Ps. 80:15; and the members are each “sons”). In this latter case, the injustice is even more reprehensible since it defies the gracious covenant of God.”  

Which interpretation is the more convincing? …..  I have written on Veracity several book reviews that the Hebrew Bible have readings in them that are quite ambiguous, partly due to the flexibility of the Hebrew language itself, and its high dependence on literary context to determine its meaning, more so than Koine Greek (the language of the New Testament) and even English. Lanier and Ross make a good argument that the Septuagint should play a more significant role in clarifying the ambiguities we find in the Hebrew Bible. My point here in this example of Psalm 82 and John 10 is to say while there is evidence from both sides of the debate to support either side, the derivative authority of the Septuagint plays a role in this debate which is often not discussed, which in my view should tip the scales more towards Heiser’s view than Carson’s (and to a lesser extent, Piper’s). Back to text

[7] Handel’s Messiah has a famous quote from Isaiah 9:6 which I have heard dozens of times sung and performed. However, except for some vague allusions, the New Testament never quotes from Isaiah 9:6. The Hebrew text found in the ESV translation reads these famous words which Handel popularized:

For to us a child is born,
    to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
    and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” 

The original context for Isaiah 9:6 is in reference to King Hezekiah, one of the few “good kings” in ancient Israel history, with divine sounding names.  The Jewish Study Bible comments on this verse:

The Mighty God … ruler”: This long sentence is the throne name of the royal child. Semitic names often consist of sentences that describe God; thus the name Isaiah in Heb means “The Lord saves”; Hezekiah, “The Lord strengthens”; in Akkadian, the name of the Babylonian king Merodach-baladan (Isa. 39.1) means “the god Marduk has provided an heir.” These names do not describe that person who holds them but the god whom the parents worship. Similarly, the name given to the child in this v. does not describe that child or attribute divinity to him, but describes God’s actions. (Berlin, Adele; Brettler, Marc Zvi. The Jewish Study Bible: Second Edition (p. 900). (Function). Kindle Edition).

So, it makes sense for Handel to see a connection between Isaiah 9:6 and the divine identity of Jesus. But why did no New Testament author reference Isaiah 9:6, for such a positive affirmation of Jesus’ divinity?  If you compare this Hebrew version with the Septuagint reading, a possible explanation might emerge:

Because a child was born for us, a son also given to us, whose sovereignty was upon his shoulder, and he is named Messenger of Great Counsel, for I will bring peace upon the rulers, peace and health to him.” ()

It is evident that the superlatives used to describe Hezekiah, for the original context, and Jesus, for the New Testament context, lack the more explicit divine kind of connotations. A YouTube video done by a skeptic suggests that this difference between the Hebrew text and the Septuagint casts some doubt on the credibility of the New Testament. Yet I am not persuaded. Rather, this shows that the New Testament authors followed standard Jewish interpretive practices of the day in reading their ancient texts, in ways that aligned with their gift of Holy Spirit inspiration. Unfortunately, too many Christians remain unaware as to how these New Testament authors made use of the Old Testament, and what the role was for the Septuagint in reading and interpreting the Old Testament, in ways that made sense to them in their historical, Second Temple Judaic context. Back to text


Did the Father Turn His Face Away From Jesus on the Cross?

How much do we really think about the songs we sing in church?

There is a popular Christian worship song which I have sung for years, which I admittedly have not thought too much about until recently. Written by Stuart Townend about 30 years ago, “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us” begins with this verse:

How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure,
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure.
How great the pain of searing loss –
The Father turns His face away,
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory.

There is one line in that verse which really puzzles me now: “The Father turns His face away.” What is that all about?

As I first started to think about it, I mused that it might mean that the Father was so filled with grief about his Son dying on the cross that he could not bear to look upon the sight of seeing Jesus suffer like that.  The line before it gives me a clue: “How great the pain of searing loss.”

Perhaps that is what Stuart Townend had in mind.

I am quite fine with interpreting this line in the song this way. When my mother was nearing her death about 11 years ago, extended family members of mine, who loved my mother very much, would not come to visit my mom once she was nearing being put on hospice. One cousin told me that she could not bear to see my mother suffer in her final days, as the cancer of glioblastoma slowly took away her humanity day-after-day, as she was loaded up with morphine.

My mom still recognized me up until the last day or two before she died, but during those last few weeks, she hardly knew who anyone else was. My mom was always the gracious “Southern lady,” offering hospitality to everyone she met. But the cancer had robbed that zest for life, and the morphine had dulled her senses. That was tough for members of my extended family who knew my mom for years, so I get it.

But is this what it really means to say that “The Father turns His face away?”

 

 

 

The “Father Can Not Look Upon Sin, So the Father Turns His Face Away from Jesus” Logic

There is another, more common explanation as to why the line “The Father turns His face away” is in Townsend’s song. Taken at face value, this other explanation seems straight-forward. Yet frankly, this explanation should trouble us, as it can give us a wrong understanding of God’s character.  There is more to it as one dives more deeply into the Bible.

In this view, “The Father turns His face away” is in reference to Jesus’ cry of dereliction on the cross:

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34; Matt 27:46).

Admittedly, once you read that, it may seem quite obvious. Jesus, as God’s Son, feels abandoned by the Father. After all, as an expression of Jesus’ humanity, it is quite natural for any human to have a sense of desperation at such a moment.

But what does this say about the perspective of the Father? This is where a common theological assumption has stirred up significant debate:  So why does Jesus feel abandoned?

Explanation: Because the sin of the whole world is laid upon Jesus, and God the Father can not look upon sin. So, God the Father turns his face away from Jesus.

This makes sense. Right?

Not so fast.

Well, there is more going here than what meets the eye. This passage of the Bible has been controversial for centuries. Yet it all comes down to how the Gospel writers use the Old Testament, particularly Psalm 22, to reveal the truth about the heart of God.

Jesus’ cry of dereliction has puzzled lay readers of the Bible and scholars alike. At the beginning of the 20th century, the German biblical scholar Albert Schweitzer would broadly take Jesus’ cry of dereliction on the cross as a sign that the mission of Jesus had failed. Jesus had predicted that God the Father would intervene before Jesus’ death by bringing about the end of the world, pronouncing judgment on Israel for Jewish disobedience and bringing calamity on the Roman empire. Instead, Jesus was left alone to die on the cross.

Albert Schweitzer, one of the 20th century’s most influential liberal Christians, was struck by this. Schweitzer took this to mean that Jesus was a failed apocalyptic prophet, who only realized at the very end of his life that the promised cataclysmic end of the world would not come, and that God the Father had abandoned him. Alas, though Schweitzer was a great biblical scholar, even he misunderstood the significance of Psalm 22 for understanding this cry of dereliction.

Perhaps a better explanation is a simpler one. The Gospel writers want to point our attention to Psalm 22, which is where this line comes from. Not only that, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” is the first verse of Psalm 22. The idea of numbering the psalms only began once the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek, roughly about the time of Christ and a few centuries prior to that. It is not clear as to when the psalm numbering actually caught on across the Second Temple Judaism audience of Jesus’ day. So until the idea of a “Psalm 22” actually caught on, you typically referenced a particular psalm by citing the first line of that psalm.

Pretty simple.

But that is just the beginning as to why this idea — namely, of the Father turning his face away from the Son bearing the load of sin on the cross, because the Father can not look upon sin, — can be terribly misleading.

New Testament scholar Jason Staples has a great blog post on his Substack, which explains what is really going on with how Psalm 22 ties into the crucifixion narrative, so I will just summarize his research here. Psalm 22 is attributed to King David, written hundreds of years before Jesus roamed about Israel, about someone who undergoes great affliction. A careful read through Psalm 22 reveals a number of parallels we find in the Gospels:

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
    Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning?
O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer,
    and by night, but I find no rest (Psalm 22:1-2; the first verse clearly quoted in Mark 15:34 and Matthew 27:46).

All who see me mock me;
    they make mouths at me; they wag their heads (Psalm 22:7; alluded to in Matthew 27:39 and Mark 15:29).

My strength is dried up like a potsherd,
    and my tongue sticks to my jaws;
    you lay me in the dust of death (Psalm 22:15; alluded to in John 19:28, when Jesus says, “I thirst“).

They divide my garments among them,
    and for my clothing they cast lots (Psalm 22:18; alluded to in (John 19:23–24; Matthew 27:35; Mark 15:24; Luke 23:34).

All the ends of the earth shall remember
    and turn to the Lord,
and all the families of the nations
    shall worship before you (Psalm 22:27; does this not remind you of the Great Commission, Matthew 28:18-20?).

But when you read Mark’s version of the Gospel, it stands out more clearly as to what is going on with the references to Psalm 22. In Mark’s Gospel, the disciples of Jesus are typically portrayed as being relatively clueless regarding what Jesus is all about.

Here is a sample of verses, which according to Jason Staples, shows just how clueless  the disciples were:

Jesus: “Beware the leaven of the Pharisees.”
Disciples: “And they began to discuss with one another that they had no bread.” (Mark 8:15–16)

Jesus: “The son of man is handed over to men, and they will kill him, and when he has been killed, he will rise three days later.”
Disciples: “But they did not understand this saying, and they were afraid to ask him.” They then proceeded to argue about which of them was the greatest. (Mark 9:31–34)

James and John: “Grant that we may sit, one on your right and one on your left, in your glory.”
Jesus: “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink?”
James and John: “We are able.”
Jesus: “You will drink the cup that I drink … but to sit on my right or on my left is not mine to give but is for those for whom it has been prepared.”

The Gospel of Mark is filled with irony, so much that it is quite evident that while the disciples seem really clueless as to who Jesus really was, the reader instead is clued into understanding Jesus’ true identity as God’s Son, whose mission included dying for our sins.

But here is where the irony of Mark’s Gospel shines most clearly. Whereas Stuart Townsend’s song suggests that the “The Father turns His face away,” a look at Psalm 22 indicates just the exact opposite.

Did you catch that?

Psalm 22 shows that this common idea of the Father turning away from looking upon Jesus, because the Father can not look upon sin, is misleading. In fact, it means the very opposite.

Right after the psalmist writes about the garments being divided and those who were casting lots for the afflicted one’s clothing in verse 18, in verse 19 the afflicted one offers a prayer in response to all that is happening to him:

But you, O Lord, do not be far off!
    O you my help, come quickly to my aid!

Then later we read this, arriving at the “punch line”:

I will tell of your name to my brothers;
    in the midst of the congregation I will praise you:
You who fear the Lord, praise him!
    All you offspring of Jacob, glorify him,
    and stand in awe of him, all you offspring of Israel!
For he has not despised or abhorred
    the affliction of the afflicted,
and he has not hidden his face from him,
    but has heard, when he cried to him (Psalm 22:22-24)

That next to the last line in verse 24 should startle the reader: God “has not hidden his face from” the one who is afflicted.

Wait a minute… I thought…. Huh???…..

This line is shocking.

In contrast with the claim that “The Father turns His face away,” Psalm 22 indicates that just the opposite is true. God the Father has not turned his face away from Jesus.

In Jesus’ affliction, God the Father has not turned away from the Son. Rather, the Father looks upon the Son with love, mercy, and compassion. Instead of rejecting the Son, the Father extends the tenderness of the divine towards Jesus. The desperation of Jesus, as one who was fully divine and fully human, upon the cross is quite real, but the reason why Jesus experiences such desperation can be easily misunderstood.

To think that the cry of dereliction uttered by Jesus on the cross shows that God’s hatred of us as sinners has been transferred to Jesus, by Jesus taking our sin upon himself, such that God now hates Jesus, is to read something into the text that is not there. It completely misses the irony that the Gospel of Mark is trying to show us, in that while it might appear that the Father has forsaken the Son, just the opposite has taken place.

God hates our sin. God does not hate us. God loves us. God hates that our sin has gotten in the way, and so God has found a way through Jesus to deal with sin, so that we might be reconciled to God.

If there was any doubt as to the significance of Psalm 22, the psalm itself ends in verse 31:

they shall come and proclaim his righteousness to a people yet unborn,
    that he has done it.

Is it merely a coincidence that John 19:30 records the last words of Jesus as “It is finished?”

Hardly.

Rather, the lesson for us, for those of us who are believers, who identify with the work of Christ on the cross, as the perfect expression of God’s love for us, is that we can remain confident that God the Father has not turned his face away from us. God has not allowed his legitimate anger towards our sin to keep him from showering us with his grace. God’s hatred is towards our sin, and not towards us. We may indeed abandon God at times (because our sin), and there are surely times where we might feel abandoned by God (when we have been sinned against).  However, the Gospel story announces this: God has not and will never abandon us.

God turns away from our sin, as our sin turns us away from God. But God never turns away from us.

This is truly Good News!! Is it not??


Why Should the Death of Someone 2,000 Years Ago Matter to Me Today? (The Atonement, by Jeremy Treat. A Brief Review)

The question stopped me in my tracks….

Back when I was a college student, I worked as an usher at a movie theater over the summer break. It was a hot, muggy July night, as I recall. Business was slow.  A friend of mine walked in and we started chatting.

My friend had grown up in church, but he blurted out this question which has stuck with me all these years later:

Clarke, why should the death of someone 2,000 years ago matter to me today?

I had been an active follower of Christ for several years at that time, but I was stunned by the question. As Christians, we often take for granted the thought that “Jesus died for our sins” as being vitally important, and evidently self-explanatory. But as the conversation continued I realized that I really did not have a very good answer to give.

The death of a wandering Jewish preacher in the Middle East back in the first century seems so remote and unconnected from my life as an American nearly 2,000 years later. Those worlds appear to be so far apart, particularly in our day when Artificial Intelligence is transforming our world, persistent mental health issues plague so many people, families in the midst of crisis try to make ends meet, and media reports of never ending wars all over the globe numb us. What made it even more bothersome was that this friend of mine had grown up going to church all of his life, and he did not know a good answer either.

So, does the death of Jesus, many, many years ago, in a distant culture, really matter? If so, how?

Jeremy Treat’s The Atonement: An Introduction is a concise, accessible theological examination of what the death of Christ means, for the forgiveness of sins. A perfect book for anyone, lay person or scholar, who needs a good explanation for why the death of a Jewish carpenter some 2,000 years ago is relevant to you and me today.

 

At moments like these, I wish I had a book like Jeremy Treat’s The Atonement: An Introduction available to hand to someone. At first, Treat’s book might seem daunting, as it is part of Crossway’s “Short Studies in Systematic Theology.” But it really is not. The book is short and accessible, less than 200 pages. I read it as an audiobook in about 4 hours. It is perfect for college students, pastors, and other lay people alike.

The topic of Jeremy Treat’s book, The Atonement, is one that sparks a lot of conversation. The early church never came up with a formal statement as to the particular meaning of Christ’s death on the cross. The Nicene-Constantinople Creed, the great ecumenical creed of the early church, is pretty brief on the subject:

….For us humans and for our salvation he came down from heaven, and was incarnate… ….For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate, he suffered death and was buried….,

….I confess one Baptism for the forgiveness of sins…

As far as exactly how those ideas like the crucifixion, heaven, and the forgiveness of sins are exactly connected together, nothing is explained. But the mystery has inspired many pages of theology to be written over the centuries, with competing theories articulated to try to figure this all out.

Over the next few months, here on Veracity, I hope to bring out some of this theological discussion, interacting with a number of Scriptural texts and a few books which have attempted to make sense of one of the most intriguing questions anyone could ever think about.

But for now, I would like to start with Jeremy Treat’s excellent introduction to the topic. How would you answer the question?

Why should the death of Jesus some 2,000 years ago matter to someone today?

Jeremy Treat is a pastor for preaching at a church in California, and an adjunct professor of theology at Biola University. I am sure Treat runs into questions like this all of the time with his students.

The answer Jeremy Treat gives is reasonably thorough without being overwhelming. It is not overly technical, but it is theologically rich. Here is Jeremy Treat’s main idea: the death of Christ is the central act of God’s work to accomplish salvation for all of humanity, part of what Christians call the doctrine of atonement.

William Tyndale, who interestingly published the first mechanically printed New Testament into English, exactly 500 years ago from this present year (2026), coined the English word “atonement” to translate a difficult Hebrew word from the Old Testament. Tyndale’s idea of “atonement” comes from piecing together a phrase “at-one-ment.” Essentially, Jesus’ death on the cross 2,000 years sought to reconcile humanity to God, making us “at-one” with God.

Christians all believe that “Jesus died for our sins,” but unpacking that simple statement is really not that simple. For Jeremy Treat, the death of Christ is God’s multi-dimensional work done by God, as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, within the story of the Kingdom of God being revealed to the world.

The concept of substitution is at the heart of the cross, as substitution holds all of these various dimensions together, which theologians debate about. The cross is about forgiveness. The cross is also about victory over sin, death, and evil. The cross is also about renewal. The cross reconciles us not only to God but to each other as well. Substitution connects all of these themes together. As to substitution, this is all about Jesus dying in our place for our sins. As Treat puts it:

Our society is aching for atonement. How can we deal with our guilt and shame? How can we be set free from our past? How can all that is wrong be made right? The assumption in these questions is that we can atone for our sins. But the message of Christianity is not about what we ought to do for God but what God has done for us. The good news is that God has sent his Son, empowered by the Spirit, to atone for our sins and make right all that our sin has made wrong. And the gospel goes far beyond merely “making amends” (which is how the word “atonement” is often used today). Through the sacrificial death of Christ, forgiveness, freedom, healing, and restoration are available not only for broken people but for all of creation. This is good news” (Treat, The Atonement, p. 14)

 

One of the most memorably moments in world history.  But what does it mean for people living in the 21st century?

 

Critics of Christianity might want us to think that atonement is some kind of antiquated and even barbaric notion, but everyday life and even the big issues of our day would suggest otherwise. Everytime I have mistakenly cut someone off in traffic while driving, raised my voice with my wife, or loaned something out to a friend and they never pay me back, I fall back on the language of atonement, and you probably do, too. When bombs are inadvertently dropped on schools filled with elementary aged children, when millions of pounds of discarded plastics in our garbage threaten sea life in our oceans, earthquakes shake shoddily built high-story apartment buildings to the ground, along with thousands with them, and mass shooters kill innocent bystanders, we process concepts of atonement in our minds, whether we are aware of it or not.

Jeremy Treat offers a theological framework for dealing with all of this stuff. Treat’s primary dialogue partners in thinking through atonement are the 4th century North African church father, Athanasius, the 19th century Dutch theologian, Herman Bavinck, and the 20th century British pastor-theologian, John R. W. Stott. Having cut my teeth in thinking about the atonement from John Stott’s masterful work, The Cross of Christ, I resonated with Treat throughout this excellent work of deep yet accessible theology. Even better, Treat takes the same framework Stott was known for and distills it down into a concise work that can be read over a couple of afternoons, making a rich theology accessible to a new generation.

There are quite a number of theories out there that try to make sense of the atoning work of Christ; such as, penal substitution, moral influence, and “Christus Victor”. Jeremy Treat does not go into any rigorous analysis of the virtues and vices of each theory as compared to the others. He prefers to think in terms of “dimensions” of atonement as opposed to “theories.” Treat is thankfully allergic to an over-simplified reductionism, while also rejecting a cafeteria approach whereby we can merely pick and choose from different dimensions which we may like or dislike. Instead, Treat sees value in the many dimensions of atonement, and how they effectively integrate together. He offers concise definitions of twenty of these various dimensions, including propitiation, healing, and adoption. I would consider Treat’s view of atonement as a kaleidoscope approach, whereby looking through the prism at different angles, you can see different dimensions which color a rich and practical theology, a most helpful way of thinking about the meaning of the cross of Christ.

For example, in his chapter on the “Coherence of Atonement,” Treat comments on Romans 3:23-25:

Paul uses three different metaphors from three different realms of society to explain the meaning of Christ’s death. But again, he is not saying the same thing in three different ways. He is drawing from different conceptual worlds to explain different, yet mutually enriching dimensions of what Christ accomplished. ‘For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God and are justified (law-court), by his grace as a gift, through the redemption (marketplace) that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation (temple) by his blood to be received by faith’.

Treat also considers unhelpful ways to think about atonement. For example, some preachers use the analogy of a train speeding down a train track, where a group of children are playing, and if not stopped the train will probably hit and kill the children. But there is a rail switch between the moving train and the children, which if triggered, can send the train down a different track and spare the lives of the children. A rail switch operator has the opportunity to flip the switch and save the day. However, standing on that other train track is the son of the rail switch operator, playing by himself. The father makes a split second decision, flipping the switch, whereby the train almost instantly kills his son, but spare the lives of the other children.

While the analogy does articulate the concept of substitution, whereby the son stands in the place of the other children, giving up his life to die in order to spare the life of the others, the analogy unhelpfully distorts the Christian view of atonement. For one thing, the fate of the son is not tied together with the fate of the father, whereas in a biblical view of the atonement, the Father and the Son, through the Holy Spirit, work in concert together to save humanity. Furthermore, the analogy stresses a kind of utilitarian solution to an ethical dilemma; that is, a sacrifice of the one for the many, and ignores God’s purpose to have a family by seeking reconciliation among a people divided against one another and alienated from their Creator.

Some Christians, when thinking about Isaiah 53, a key text for atonement theology, appear to have no problem thinking that it is somehow okay for God the Father to “crush” the Son, thereby putting God the Father and God the Son somehow in conflict with one another. Thankfully, Jeremy Treat is careful enough to say that while the Suffering Servant; that is, the Son, was indeed “crushed” in Isaiah 53:10, Treat does not say that it was “God” who “crushed” the Suffering Servant. It might appear at first glance that God did crush the Suffering Servant, but a closer look tells a far more compelling story (something to be explained further in a future blog post). Wrath is not a distinct attribute of God, but rather it is a consequence of God’s love and holiness, in response to human sin.

Some preachers make use of a famous ethical dilemma in moral philosophy, the so-called “Trolley Problem,” as a way of describing God’s reasoning for the atoning work of Christ on the cross. Jeremy Treat believes this to be a faulty illustration to use in trying to explain the meaning of Christ’s death.

 

Treat’s book on The Atonement is not meant to be exhaustive. It is but an introduction, after all. So, if you are looking for an exegetically rigorous text which sorts out all of the nuances of the debates about particular bible passages regarding atonement, then The Atonement: An Introduction is not the book you will want to read. Or, if you want to parse through all of the philosophical controversies surrounding atonement theology, you would be better looking off elsewhere. But if you want an easy to read, broad yet modestly brief look at the question as to why the death of someone 2,000 years ago might matter to you, then Jeremy Treat’s The Atonement: An Introduction is the perfect book. I came away from the book strengthened in my faith.

So, I return back to the starting question: Does the death of Jesus some 2,000 years ago matter to me today, and if so, how?

I left work that hot summer night, working through my mind as to how to answer my friend’s question. I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, reading my Bible, still puzzled. If only I had a copy of Jeremy Treat’s The Atonement: An Introduction available to me back then, I probably would have slept better that night.

Over the next few months, stick around the Veracity blog if you want to explore with me more about this all important question.


Jews vs. Rome: By Barry Strauss, A Review (Why the Middle East Conflict Never Seems to End)

Just a few weeks ago, President Trump announced a cessation of hostilities with Iran, however tenuous it appears, a conflict having an existential impact upon the modern nation state of Israel and threats upon other Middle Eastern nations as well. But the story goes back a long, long, way….

In 63 BCE, the Roman general Pompey (not to be confused with the city in Italy, Pompei, and its famous volcano) laid siege to the city of Jerusalem. Following the collapse of competing and aging Greek empires, the Ptolemaic in Egypt and the Seleucid in Syria, Rome took advantage of the power vacuum and took an interest in the ancient land of the Bible.

Pompey, a religious outsider to the Jews, after defeating some Jewish resistance, entered the Jewish Temple and even walked into the Holy of Holies, thus desecrating it. Interestingly, Pompey did not take anything. Instead, he ordered that the Temple rituals be continued, as he claimed victory over the city. A little over a century earlier, the Maccabean revolt had shaken off the shackles of their Greek overlords. but now that period of Jewish self-rule came to an end, with Pompey’s conquest of the holy city. Nevertheless, the Romans did not destroy the Jews as a people or their Temple. What then was Pompey’s objective in taking Jerusalem?

Neither the Old nor the New Testament tell us about this remarkable turn of events. Rarely do Christians hear about this in evangelical churches. But this story of Pompey sets up the narrative which stands at the center of controversy over Jesus of Nazareth, who would be born just a few decades later.

The Romans and Jews were at odds with one another. To the Jews, the Romans were idolaters, worshipping many gods. To the Romans, the Jews were peculiar in their religious practices. Yet the Romans wanted to maintain some control over Judea, as Rome detected a growing threat rising in the East. The Parthian empire, whose power was centered in modern-day Iran, challenged that of Rome.

As the Romans grew to prominence, they kept bumping into their Parthian neighbors in the East, and the two did not get along well. The relatively small Jewish nation had become sandwiched between these two great empires. Though Rome now had control of Judea, it was not without some difficulty. For there were still Jews living in the East in Parthian territory, remnants of those who stayed mostly east of the Euphrates, and did not return back to the area of Jerusalem following the decline of Babylon.

Rome needed Judea as a buffer against the Parthians. But they did not want to alienate the native Jewish population of Judea such that it would raise sympathies with those Jews still living in Parthian lands. For those eastern Jews might enlist with the Parthians to push back against Rome.

 

Barry Strauss’ Jews Vs. Rome: Two Centuries of Rebellions Against the World’s Mightiest Empire, tells the story of the ancient conflict between the Jews and the Roman Empire.  Not only does Strauss’ book give us essential background material for understanding the Bible, it helps us understand the complexity of current events in the Middle East.

 

Historian Barry Strauss outlines this background material in his Jews vs. Rome: Two Centuries of Rebellion Against the World’s Mightiest Empire, which tells the tale of tensions between these two peoples, between Pompey’s arrival in Jerusalem in 63 BCE, and the ultimate destruction of Jewish nation in the land of Judea, through Emperor Hadrian’s crushing of the Bar Kokhba revolt, in the 130’s CE. The first century of the Christian movement is smack dab in the middle of it all, and yet you hardly hear much about this in many evangelical churches.

In our New Testament, Christians read about a bunch of people all named “Herod.” When first reading the New Testament, it is easy to think there was this one person named Herod who kept popping up all of the time throughout the stories of the Gospels. It can be difficult to track with the “Who’s Who” of the Herods. The New Testament itself barely tells us much about who these people really were, and how they got to be the Herods of the New Testament.

The Romans were in a quandary about what to do with Judea following Pompey’s victory. The Romans were hesitant to bring in a pagan Roman to rule a people with such strange religious habits and beliefs, such as male circumcision, eating a restricted food diet, and worshipping only one God. But within a few years, the first Herod, Herod the Great, emerged as the client ruler of choice for the Romans. Through Herod, an Idumean and not really a full Jew (though he tried to position himself as one), the Romans found someone who could look after Rome’s interests in Judea without provoking intervention from the Parthians off to the east.

In some ways, Barry Strauss likens Herod the Great to having a particular “Donald Trump” transactional quality, that of celebrating the art of the “deal.” Herod believed that he could make a deal between Rome and the Jews, where both sides could get something that they wanted, though not everything, and still both Romans and Jews can somehow live in peace together, even if it was a fragile peace.

Herod was a builder, who constructed a deep-water port in Caesarea, along the Mediterranean, as well as greatly enhancing the architecture and grandeur of the Jerusalem Temple. These marvels were attempts to show Rome and the Jews that he was on both of “their” sides. Herod was also extremely paranoid and ruthless. The Gospel of Matthew lets New Testament readers know of this reputation through the Massacre of the Innocents in Bethlehem.

After Herod’s death, around the time of Christ’s birth, Herod’s realm was divided into three pieces, one piece given to three of his sons. The New Testament tells us about Herod Antipas ruling up in Galilee, who stayed in power for a number of years. But then there was Herod’s other son, Herod Archelaus, who ruled over Judea, after he traveled to petition Rome for the right to rule in Jerusalem, following his father’s death. Mathew 2:22 gives the reader a sense that this Herod was just as ruthless as his father.

Unfortunately for Herod Archelaus, while he had his father’s ruthlessness, he did not have enough tactfulness to know when too much was too much. By 6 A.D. (CE), he was recalled by Rome, as complaints by the Jews were made against Archelaus. This led the Romans to finally bring in leadership from the outside, bringing the land of Judea under direct Roman control. The most famous of these leaders was Pontius Pilate.

Pilate had his run-ins with the Jews, but it was nothing compared to the crisis precipitated by Gessius Florus, the Roman governor appointed by the infamous Emperor Nero to rule in Judea during the years 64-66 CE. When Gessius raided the Jerusalem Temple for cash, this instigated an uprising among the Jews. Josephus, the Jewish military leader who turned traitor during the Great Jewish Revolt, blamed Gessius for the start of the conflict, which eventually led to the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE by the Romans.

Josephus remains our best source for this period, though Strauss is careful enough to acknowledge that Josephus would at times fudge the facts to make himself look better. But the record that Josephus leaves provides a detailed tale of how the Jews, in seeking to defend against the Romans, were in many ways more at war with one another. Much of the conflict among the Jews were between those who believed that Rome should be resisted at all costs, whereas other more moderate Jews believed that Jewish resistance to Rome was futile.

Ultimately, the latter group proved to be right, as the Romans led by the future emperor Titus destroyed Jerusalem and left the Temple in ruins. This was followed up by the dramatic siege by the Romans of the mountain fortress by the Dead Sea, Masada, of the last of the Jewish rebels. However, though Josephus leaves us the most detail regarding the tragedy of the Great Jewish Revolt, the outcomes of two later revolts caused more death and destruction across a much wider area.

Arch of Titus

Temple plunder depicted on the Arch of Titus, Rome, a must-see artifact at the entrance to the Roman Forum, which my wife and I visited in 2018.  Titus brought back thousands of defeated Jews as slaves to Rome, after he defeated Jerusalem and destroyed its Temple in 70 A.D.

 

The Jewish Diaspora revolt, sometimes known as Second Jewish-Roman War, or the Kitos War, from about 116-118 CE, mainly involved the Jews in and around Alexandria, Egypt, the area which supplied a vast majority of food for Rome. Tensions between these Alexandrian Jews and the Romans in Egypt erupted, soon after Rome went to war against the Parthians. Thousands of both Jews and Romans died in the conflict, with Rome eventually gaining the upper hand.

Then finally, there was the Bar Kokhba revolt of 135 CE, sometimes called the Third Jewish-Roman war, led by the messianic leader Simon Bar Kokhba against the pagan Emperor Hadrian, who decisively defeated the Jews. Hadrian had renamed Jerusalem as Aelia Capitolina, placing a temple to Jupiter on the Temple Mount, and even renamed Judea as Palestine, which even today is taken by some Jews as a slur. The cost was certainly heavy for the Romans, but the greatest loss was for the Jews, who were effectively exiled again from much of their homeland, by the end of 135 CE.

Nevertheless, as Strauss paints it, it was the Jews who survived in the long run, while Rome ultimately failed. The Jews lost their Temple, the core element of their faith, but in the wake of the Temple’s destruction, and finally with the defeat of Bar Kokhba, the surviving Jews basically found a way to reinvent Judaism, retaining an embrace of the Law of Moses, without a Temple at its center. Furthermore, the Jews were able to do so, living as a minority in a culture dominated by those who were not like them in their beliefs and practices.

Strauss’ Jews vs. Rome weaves a fascinating story of those three great Jewish revolts, and the consequences which followed. Having this story in mind sheds a lot of light on the background for the New Testament, and the world in which figures like Jesus, Paul, and the other early disciples of Jesus lived.

One particular story stands out to me regarding the time of Jesus in Galilee. Roughly about the time that Jesus was born, there was a city, Sepphoris, just a few miles from Jesus’ boyhood home of Nazareth, which had undergone a revolt against Herodian rule. But the Romans came in and destroyed the city, taking the inhabitants off to become enslaved. A new population, more friendly to the Romans, occupied the remains of the city, which was rebuilt during the early years of Jesus. Unfortunately, the New Testament never mentions Sepphoris, despite its proximity and walking distance from Nazareth. Some historians speculate that Jesus may have accompanied his carpenter father to help rebuild that city.

Strauss’ work also helps us understand what is going on in Israel today, particularly in view of the crisis of the October 7, 2023 attacks on Israel by Hamas, and Israel’s aggressive response in Gaza for over two years, including military conflicts in southern Lebanon and with Iran. In a 2025 YouTube short video of Benjamin Netanyahu, the Israeli Prime Minister comments about his reading of Barry Strauss’ book, and why he desired to read the book. Netanyahu responded with, “Well we lost that one, and we have to win the next one.” The video pops every now and then on YouTube, but at times the video has been taken down. The last version I know about is linked here.

Veracity blogger, on-site, at the Roman Forum, in 2018, where the “pagan” culture of Rome reigned supreme, until the story of the Crucified and Resurrected One superseded it. On the opposite side of the Roman Forum, at the entrance, stands the Arch of Titus, which depicts the defeat of Jerusalem, in 70 A.D., which among the Jewish people was pretty much the equivalent to the “9-11” attack in the United States, for Americans.

 

What is so eerie about reading Jews vs. Rome is how relevant Strauss’ book is to current events. Not too long after reading Strauss’ book, the United States and Israel made pre-emptive strikes against the Iranian Shiite regime, in late February, 2026. While the war has been greatly debated in the United States, as to its legitimacy, it would appear that for the Israelis, there is less controversy (though clearly not everyone in Israel agrees with Netanyahu). One can read from Netanyahu’s comments about Jews vs. Rome, that Netanyahu believes that Israel today can not afford to make the same mistakes made some 2,000 years ago. Israel’s foreign policy understands that the Shiite regime in Iran is the rough equivalent to first century Rome. I will leave it to the news commentators and political analysts, who know better than I do, as to what Netanyahu has been thinking, and if he has been right or not.

My primary takeaway from Jews vs. Rome is historical, in how the story of this ancient conflict can help us to better comprehend the historical context of the Bible. Understanding the conflict between Rome and Jews helps Christians to better understand why so many of Jesus’ followers were hoping him to be a military and political Messiah, who would rise up against Rome, and remove the Romans from the land. The period of the Jews versus Rome conflict represents the zenith of apocalyptic writings and thinking among the Jews. The Jews were expecting a messianic figure to come, bring an end to the current world order, and start something new, with the liberation of Israel as the focal point. However, in the case of the early Christian movement, that did not turn out exactly the way many Jews were anticipating. The announcement of the coming Kingdom of God by Jesus of Nazareth took on a completely different dimension, one that would forever change the trajectory of human history.

Many thanks go to Barry Strauss for giving the reader an enthralling account of the conflict, which became the fertile ground from which the Christian faith took hold in the world, some twenty centuries ago. The fact that the situation regarding the fate of ancient Israel stills holds immense narrative power should tell us why the conflict in the Middle East seems like it is never ending.

Want more details about the book? Listen to historian Victor Davis Hanson’s interview with Barry Strauss.