As we begin our discussion of the “faith (or faithfulness) of Christ” versus the concept of “faith in
Christ,” it is good to go back to the source of all this contention.
Both the New and Old Testaments have much to say about faith, but our
ideas about it are shaped in large part by Paul’s letter to the Romans.
And within that letter, Romans 3 is most often cited in the debates
about “faith of” or “faith in.” Romans 3:21-22 will serve to illustrate
the point of disagreement. Here are the verses in the King James
Version:
“But now the righteousness of God without the law is manifested, being
witnessed by the law and the prophets. Even the righteousness of God
which is by the faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all them that believe.”
And the same verses in the NIV:
“But now a righteousness from God, apart from the law, has been made
known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. The righteousness
from God through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe”
And here, the English transliteration of the Greek, followed by my own translation:
dikaiosyne de theou dia pisteos Iesou Christou eis pantas tous pisteuontas, that is, “the righteousness of God through faith of Jesus Anointed towards all the believing.”
Which is it? The stakes couldn’t be higher. How we understand “pisteos
Iesou Christou” shapes our interpretation of the entire letter. But
more than that, if Western Civilization is based on a single concept, it
is justification. J. Louis Martyn writes somewhere that justification
is “God’s making right what had gone wrong.” How exactly is this
accomplished? How do we stand righteous before God? How are we made
right? The East emphasizes eternal life and the resurrection, but in
the West our longing, for better or for worse has always been to
understand justice. For over a thousand years, Romans 3 has drawn
students of the Bible to itself again and again as we struggle to
understand.
Objections to “The Faith of Jesus”
Nowadays a growing number of scholars contend that “pisteos Iesou
Christou, ought to be translated the “faith of Jesus,” but what’s the
argument on the other side?
The most basic issue might be grammatical. Consider the phrase,“the love
of my mother.” I might be writing of the love that my mother has, or I
might be writing of the love my sister and I have for my mother. The
latter example would be an “objective genitive.” Many scholars have
concluded that “dia pisteos Iesou Christou” is like that, an objective
genitive; the “faith of Jesus Christ” is the faith we have in Jesus. But
there are far more potent arguments to support, “faith in Jesus
Christ.” Two in particular come to the fore: First, most if not all,
of the earliest commentators take pisteou Iesou Christou to mean our
faith IN Christ. Augustine, for instance, took “pisteou Iesou Christou”
to be “faith in Jesus Christ.” Who are we to disagree? But second, an
even more compelling argument by the scholar Douglas Moo: In Romans 3
Jesus is passive, not active. If we translate pisteou Iesou Christou as
the faith or faithfulness of Jesus Christ, we are making Jesus active,
and this is out of line with the chapter as a whole. I can almost hear
Professor Moo saying to us with some exasperation, “Look at the context,
yes, look up and down Romans chapter 3, is Jesus active? In Romans 3
is Jesus Christ doing anything or on the other hand, is he presented as
passive?” Professor Moo is right. To take one example, Jesus is “set
forth by God a mercy seat,” while “God is “just and justifying” (vss.
25, 26). In other words, God is doing something whereas Jesus is “set
forth,” “presented.” Jesus’ obedience, Jesus’ activity or work is not
in view in Romans 3, rather it is God (the Father’s) work and activity
that is in focus. Jesus’ faithfulness, argues Moo, is out of keeping
with the chapter as a whole and indeed with all the early chapters of
Romans. Admittedly Jesus is most certainly faithful, most certainly
obedient, but here in Romans, Paul wants to emphasize something else.
Paul wants to emphasize the activity of God not Jesus therefore the most
likely translation of “pisteous Iesou Christou” is “faith in Jesus
Christ.”
Emboldened to Ask Further Questions
Emboldened by Moo’s challenge, the door is opened for scholars to
ask two important theological questions of the “faith of Jesus Christ”
crowd. First, “If Jesus is the faithful one, what role does the Father
play?” The historically inclined (may their number ever increase!) might
add a second follow-up question: “Isn’t it too easy to fall into
Anselm’s doctrine of atonement?” Anselm was a theologian of the 11th
century. Attempting to understand the cross philosophically, Anselm
asserted that God was like a great lord whose honor must be satisfied.
Our sin was a great debt, unable to be paid by mortals. Jesus,
infinitely worthy, pays our debt by dying on the cross. His sacrifice
ensures that God’s honor remains intact. God must be paid. Forgiveness
of one iota of wrong-doing dishonors him and violates his strict sense
of justice. One cannot help but be reminded of Edward I, the cruel
English king of the 13th century who collected what you owed him down to
the last pence. And woe betide him who couldn’t pay. It would seem
that Anselm pictures God as a kind of Edward. But the question must be
asked, is God really such a sourpuss as Edward I? To be sure Anselm
would never call God a sourpuss but doesn’t it come to the same? It’s
hard to sympathize with a God who is so loathe to release us from debt
that only the sacrifice of his only begotten son will reconcile him to
us. He’s the stereotypical German pater familias, strict, unbending,
immovable. A Catholic divine once wittily remarked, “God the Father
hasn’t been heard of since the Reformation.” And why hasn’t he been
heard of? The answer is because even if God the Father isn’t a crab, he
certainly doesn’t have his heart in our atonement. But this God is not
in keeping with the Bible. Jesus pictures the Father running towards
the prodigal son, all dignity forgotten. Isaiah sees God loving
foolish, deceitful Jacob with a love that throws caution to the winds
(Isaiah 43). The God of the Old and New Testaments is simply not
Edward I. He is not a sourpuss or a German pater familias. He is not
Anselm’s God. But we, all of us, from the guild of the theologians and
hopeful doctoral students, to the Sunday congregation, seem to forget
this God, the God pictured by the Bible. There’s a song called “Jesus
Loves Me,” but no song with title, “The Father Loves Me,” because the
truth is we often doubt it deep down in our hearts. Maybe he doesn’t
love us. Not really. All we like sheep have gone astray. Do
proponents of the “faith of Jesus” have anything, have any weapon in
their arsenal to fight this misunderstanding or does their theory
actually feed into it by emphasizing Jesus’ work at the expense of the
Father’s?
Everything You Want, Can Be Had, or Can It?
But this is not all that the proponents of faith in Christ have to
say. They hurry to assure the “faith of Christ” camp of two things.
First: Faith is a gift. Second, faith is not something we “do.” They
are saying, and again, I broadly paraphrase: “Look, everything you
‘faith of Jesus Christ’ people want, can be had! It can be yours, but
without departing from the traditional translation of the phrase as an
objective genitive. You are distressed by the implication of “faith IN
Jesus Christ” justifying us. You are worried that we “do” something to
secure our own justification. Nonsense! Luther himself knew very well
that our faith was a gift. As proof, read Luther's Small Catechism.
There it states: ‘I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength
believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Ghost has
called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and
kept me in the true faith; even as He calls, gathers, enlightens, and
sanctifies the whole Christian Church on earth, and keeps it with Jesus
Christ in the one true faith; in which Christian Church He forgives
daily and richly all sins to me and all believers, and at the last day
will raise up me and all the dead, and will give to me and to all
believers in Christ everlasting life. This is most certainly true.’
Luther refers to faith as a gift throughout his works, Calvin too,
thought of faith as a gift. Really, you ‘faith of Jesus’ people have
nothing to fear!” “Moreover,” they add, “the gift of faith is not in
itself a work of man. It is not something that we ‘do,’ in any case!”
It might be well to explain the last sentence. Luther wrote that our
faith “clasps Christ as a ring clasps its jewel.” Nothing more. To
borrow another oft used metaphor, it is “an empty hand.” Calvin wrote,
“We compare faith to a kind of vessel; for unless we come empty and with
the mouth of our souls open to seek God’s grace, we are not capable of
receiving Christ.” Karl and Markus Barth, following these Church
Fathers, and in my opinion, improving on them, imagined our faith was
like a vacuum. A vacuum, a “nothingness,” that is filled by God’s
grace. A vacuum is even “less” than a clasp. The instinct of both Karl
and Markus Barth was for us to do less, much less, and God to do much
much more. In Dr. Joel Beeke’s small but helpful article that can be
found online, he points out that faith is not even a condition of our
justification. Rather it is an instrument, “faith is not a builder but a
beholder; it has nothing to give or achieve, but has all to receive.
Faith is neither the ground nor substance of our justification, but the
hand, the instrument, the vessel which receives the divine gift
proffered to us in the gospel.” What are the “faith of Jesus Christ”
people worrying about?
Things To Be Worried About
First of all, looking at the context of Romans 3, a problem
emerges. In Romans 3, pisteos Iesou Christou is translated “faith in
Jesus Christ” but in the very next chapter we read “pisteos Abraam,”
that is, the “faith of Abraham.” It is exactly the same grammatically
as “pisteos Iesou,” and yet we translate one as “faith in” and the other
as “the faith of.” Is it possible that Paul, within thirty verses,
would use the exact same grammar in such disparate ways? Second, faith
as an instrument as elucidated by Dr. Beeke and many others, does not
satisfy. Think of the minister trying to explain to his congregation
that“faith is an instrument.” Even the Sunday school children listening
to the story of the Exodus might suspect that something is amiss. When
the Israelites see the bodies of the dead Egyptians wash up on shore,
“they believed in God and in his servant Moses.” Belief is not an
instrument here. It is a powerful change of heart. It is a seeing into
the nature of things; it is a glimpse of the truth: the children of
Israel grasping the truth with both hands. Moreover, Jesus clearly says
that our belief is a work: “Then they said to him, ‘What must we do to
perform the works of God?’ Jesus answered them, ‘This is the work of
God, that you believe in him whom he sent’” (John 6:28-29). Faith as an
“instrument” is impossible to preach on and defend because it is not
Biblical. Further, faith as an instrument is unsatisfying
philosophically. Even if faith is an instrument, it is necessary. Even
if faith is a vacuum it is necessary. Even if faith is but the hand of
the beggar, it is necessary. The Mayan children of Chiapas, Mexico
begged from me, their little hands reaching out for a coin or even a bit
of food. Without their hands I would not have had the opportunity to
give. If the beggar were not there to receive the divine gift, there
would be no gift. If my faith is necessary and essential for
justification it follows where there is no belief, no little hand
outstretched, there is no gift. Consider the following anecdote heard a
long time ago. It is said that in those towns in Germany where Luther
was most loved and his doctrines taken to heart, in those same towns
hundreds of years later, anti-semitism flourished most virulently. Even
if the anecdote is not true, it stands to reason that where “faith in
Christ” is embraced, anti-Jewish sentiment would easily spring up.
After all, if my faith is a little cog, even the tiniest of little cogs,
it is necessary to the great machine of justification. My Jewish
neighbors, so runs the unspoken and murderous logic, have no faith.
They do not believe, therefore they have no part in God’s justice. They
are not part of God’s righting of all that is wrong. What standing do
they then have? What worth? Are they not in fact, worthless? In
Hitler’s Germany and long before it, the Jewish people were often
compared with vermin. They were not human; they were roaches, rats.
And what is more intrinsic to the German soul than to clean and
exterminate vermin? This they did, I would argue, in the Shoah of the
1930’s and 40’s. But it was not only in Hitler’s Germany where hatred
of the Jewish people was reaching a fever pitch. All we like sheep had
gone astray, and there were none who remembered that Israel was and is
the apple of God’s eye. What doctrine might cause such willful
forgetfulness? Only one has the power and the might to oppose the clear
teaching of God, and that is the doctrine of faith in Jesus Christ.
The power of sin is often helped along with our doctrines, “man’s
imagination is evil from his youth.”
Anecdote from Scotland
Attending the Galatians conference in St. Andrews Scotland in 2012, I
was witness to a sharp exchange between scholars. Professor Bruce
McCormack of Princeton Theological Seminary was arguing hard for “faith
in Christ.” He repeated and refined arguments by Moo and James Dunn
among others, making a case that could not fail to impress. But he also
argued from a personal standpoint. Bruce McCormack is a Presbyterian
like myself. Both he and I have seen first hand the terrible distress
of our denomination. I am a seventeenth generation Presbyterian and I
suspect with a name like McCormack and the looks of a true Scotsman, his
entrenchment as Presbyterian might even be deeper than my own. He took
issue sharply with the scholars Richard Hays and N.T. Wright because
their efforts were undermining the doctrine of faith in Christ. The
apple cart of the denomination was shaky already, would the two worthy
theologians upset what was already greatly weakened? “We have no
unity.” he said, “Would you take away our one last remnant of it, would
you undermine our Book of Confessions?” The Book of Confessions forms
the first part of our denomination’s constitution and it clearly speaks
of our faith in Christ as the means of justification. But in the
Question and Answer period, N.T. Wright replied at some length, and his
last point was simple but cutting, the gist of it being, “Isn’t it the
doctrine of the faith in Christ that has caused such disorder, isn’t it
really that doctrine that has rent Presbyterianism to shreds?”
Strange Fruit
As many others have noticed, the doctrine of the faith in Christ
produces at least two rather fearful results, strange fruit from a
strange tree. First, the horror of an individualism, an individualism
that does away with community and isolates neighbor from neighbor.
After all, if it all comes down to “my” faith, doesn’t it all come down
to me? The “vacuum” of faith may approach nothingness but it is a
powerful nothingness that draws all eyes to itself. “Me” and “mine”
become central. And second, as the scholar Ernst Kasemann famously
noted, the doctrine of faith in Christ cuts us off from the Old
Testament. What real need do we have of the Old Testament when it’s all
about my faith, my belief. Why would I need to remember the story of
Adam and Eve or even the story of Abraham? All the stories of the Old
Testament are but props to support my own story and when my story is
firmly secured they can be kicked away and disposed with. It is worth
noting that the disciples of the theologian Rudolph Bultmann, following
the inner logic of the doctrine, were inclined to dispose with the “in
Christ” part of “faith in Christ.” Our faith was the only thing
necessary. Even the Messiah could be forgotten. But this kind of
self-centeredness is a nightmare. Proponents of the “faith of Jesus”
are striving against a kind of living nightmare.
Standstill
And yet, the battle has ground to a kind of standstill. There are
insuperable objections to both the “faith of Jesus” and “faith in
Jesus.” Some scholars, particularly those from Germany have sought a
third way. They argue that “pisteos Iesou Christou” is a metonym. What
is a metonym? The word metonym comes from the Greek words “meta”
meaning “beyond, and “onama” meaning name. The “faith of Jesus”
“transcends” the name, it goes “beyond” the name. “Hollywood” is
often given as an example. Hollywood is a place in California but it
goes beyond this, it is a way to talk about the whole movie business in
the United States. “Wall Street” is a street in New York City but it
goes beyond that. It’s a way of talking about money-making throughout
the nation and even the world. In the same way, the “faith of Jesus”
goes beyond itself; faith is the “Christ event,” faith is the “new
salvific reality” (The Faith of Jesus Christ, Binder, p. 169). Faith is
the “gospel message” (The Faith of Jesus Christ, Schenk, p.170). How
admirable are these scholars for seeing and sensing that something is
wrong with both the “faith in” and the “faith of” camps, and for seeking
a solution! And yet, I do not believe it is a new solution. In
Luther’s commentary on Galatians he often substitutes “gospel” and
“grace” for faith. Scholars today refine the idea one hundred fold but
it is still not clear how such a move is to be justified. Luther
himself seems to have sensed the difficulties that“faith in Christ”
presents. In his letters and in his preaching he does not refer to it,
rather he speaks of the promises of God. Perhaps this is why somewhere
in Calvin’s writing, Calvin speaks, rather astonishingly, of us being
“justified by the promises of God.” For Luther and Calvin it would seem
there is no consolation in the doctrine of faith in Jesus.
The “Other” Third Way
But what if the faith of Jesus Anointed (I translate “Christ” into
English), is not a metonym but shorthand? I want to propose another
“third way.” As my ballet teacher Fred Alexson once corrected me, as
the class tendued (a tendu is the extension of the pointed foot) to the
left and I went to the right, he laughed and said, “the other left, Amy,
the other left.” In Acts 13, Paul and his companions are asked by the
official of the synagogue at Psidian Antioch is they “have any word of
consolation for the people.” Paul stands, and with a gesture begins to
speak. He tells of the resurrection of Jesus Anointed. How was it
accomplished? Paul cites a specific promise, one found in the
Septuagint of Isaiah 55:3, “I will give you the pities of David, the
faithful ones” (13:34).
Here is the English transliteration of the Greek in Acts 13:34,
“doso humin ta hosia David, ta pista” or as I translate, “the pities of David, the faithful ones”
Whatever the meaning of the “pities of David, the faithful ones” is, we do know this: Paul is saying that by their power Jesus was raised. But how?
To understand this we need to recall a story which I believe to be
essential to our understanding of “faith.” Look back in your Bibles to
Isaiah 55: 3. There it says, “I will make with you all an eternal
covenant, the pities of David, the faithful ones” (my translation),
clearly in Paul’s word of consolation at Psidian Antioch he is alluding
to this place in the Bible. But what does it mean in Isaiah? I think
we can answer that question. A commentator in the early part of the
20th century said that this phrase, “I will make with you an eternal
covenant, the pities of David, the faithful ones” sums up what is going
on two chapters before, in Isaiah 53.
Isaiah 53 is familiar to many of us. It tells of the man of sorrows,
who in Isaiah 52:13 and following is “exalted...and very high” and yet
is also “marred more than any man.” Isaiah 53 goes on to tell his
story. He will save Israel and even the nations of the earth. How? He
will bear our iniquities, he will carry our sorrows. Isaiah, who knows
himself to be a sinner (see Isaiah 6) says, “we esteemed him
stricken.” In other words, “we thought that God had struck the man of
sorrows for his own fault” but it was not so. We esteemed him stricken,
“but he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our
iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his
stripes we are healed.” The story continues as we read on in Isaiah 53,
the man of sorrows dies because of the transgression of “my people,”
“all we like sheep had gone astray.” But his death was not the death of
a criminal, by the power and “good pleasure” of God (vs.10a), he was
made a “sin offering,” that is a holy offering taking away the power of
sin. God says of this mysterious slave, “the just one my slave will
make many just.” Nor is the death of the man of sorrows the end. When
the Lord puts him to grief he will then “see his seed,” that is, his
descendants, and “prolong his days” and “the pleasure of the Lord shall
prosper in his hand.” He will “see the travail of his soul and be
satisfied by his knowledge,” (my translation) that is, he will know that
his suffering will accomplish so much. The chapter closes by
saying“because he hath poured out his soul unto death and he was
numbered with the transgressors” he will divide the spoil of the great
and the strong (translation, Jhan Moscowitz).
Now, what does this have to do with “I will make an eternal covenant
with you all, the pities of David the faithful ones”? I answer that
question with a question: How is it that the man of sorrows, this “root
out of dry ground” (53:2) is victorious? How is it that an ordinary,
depressing, death of a criminal (53:8-9) is turned into a holy offering
for sin that will make “many just”? That commentator in the early 20th
century that we spoke of earlier had the right idea. The power that made the man of sorrows into
a holy offering, the power that raised him from the dead so that he
would “see his seed” and “prolong his days” is the “pities of David, the faithful ones.”
Not only do the "pities of David, the faithful ones raise Jesus from
the dead, they are also the power that sent him into the world, the
power by which he ministered, the power by which he was saved in the
garden of Gethsemane and the victor on the cross. But at the salesmen
say on the infomercials, "Wait, there's more!" because Isaiah is also
saying that the power that did all this, “the pities of David, the
faithful ones” are for “you all.” What he gets we get, in other words.
But to really understand the “pities of David, the faithful ones” we
need to go further back. Isaiah himself is alluding to something. In
Second Samuel 7, David offers to build God a house. God has lived in
tent since the Exodus. David lives in a beautiful cedar house.
Shouldn’t God have the same thing? Nathan the prophet gives David the
green light. But that same night the word of the Lord comes to Nathan:
David is not to build God a house, instead, God will build David “a
house that will last forever;” “ David’s kingdom will be established...
forever”(vs.16) [A note on the Hebrew word for “established.” It is
based on the word “emun” or to make up an English word that most closely
approximates it’s meaning in vs. 16, “enfaithed.” David’s kingdom will
be “enfaithed” forever. I think that the KJV translation “his kingdom
will be established” is sufficient but we need to keep in mind the
Hebrew.] Moreover, God makes another astonishing promise, “if he
(David’s seed or descendant) commits iniquity I will chasten him with
the rod of men and with the stripes of the children of men, but my mercy
or “pity” (“hesed” in Hebrew) shall not depart away from him, as I took
it from Saul whom I put away before thee” (see verses 13-16).
Now, let’s page forward to Isaiah. What does Isaiah mean when he speaks
of the “pities” (“hesed” in Hebrew) of David, “the faithful ones”
(“na-emun-im” in Hebrew). The answer is clear. Isaiah is alluding to
this story in 2 Samuel 7. When he writes that God will give us “the
pities of David, the faithful ones” he is alluding to that story in 2
Samuel 7, expecting us to know it and study it.
Let’s see where we are. How does knowledge of this story that we have
just traced from 2 Samuel 7 to Isaiah 53-55 help us to understand Romans
3? The long and short of it is that Paul is alluding to this story
when he writes the words, “the faith of Jesus.” He is cluing us in to
how we are justified, how we come to believe, how we are declared right,
how we are made right before God. If we understand the story of 2
Samuel 7 and the revelation that God gave to Isaiah about it, we
understand justification. We are not justified by our faith in Jesus
but rather by a sequence of events stemming from God’s promise to David,
by a plan of salvation that was fulfilled in Jesus’ birth and ministry,
in his cross, resurrection the exaltation into heaven to receive the
Holy Spirit. Although I have not detailed how the Holy Spirit comes
into the story, we find allusion to the Holy Spirit in Isaiah 55. In
other words, the outline of the whole story of justification is there in
poetry form in Isaiah 53-55.
Questions
We might have a question, why does Paul speak of it in Romans as “the
faith of Jesus” that is, why not continue to speak as he did at Psidian
Antioch, of the “pities of David, the faithful ones?” There is an
answer to that in Isaiah as well. Not in Isaiah 53 this time, but in
Isaiah 11. Isaiah 11 speaks of the Messiah and it is clear that as
Isaiah writes he thinking of 2 Samuel 7. Isaiah says of the “rod of
Jesse” who has the “spirit of the Lord” has “establishment” ( ha-emunah)
as his war-belt (vss. 1,2 and 5) The imagery is vivid. Isaiah sees
that the faithfulness that we just read about in 2 Samuel 7, this “emun”
will be like a war-belt to the Messiah. These days we may not be
familiar with a “war-belt” but I know that some of us have been to
nursing homes. Think of what you may have seen some of the staff
wearing. They are wearing those striped belts around their waists. The
belts help them to lift the patients out of bed. The belts protect
their backs. The belts help them bear the weight of those for whom they
are caring. A war-belt does much the same thing. It is the Messiah’s
support. It allows him, if you will, to support the enormous burden of
sin.” When we look at Romans 3 and wherever “the faith of Jesus” is
spoken of we are to be reminded of this story. This is why Paul in
Romans 3 speaks of “pisteous Iesou Christou” he wants to remind us not
only of the story outlined in Isaiah 53-55 but also the story in Isaiah
11.
Another question arises in relation to Romans 4. Romans 4 speaks of
“the faith of Abraham” (vs. 16). What does this mean? It means that
Abraham too was established, was supported and won the victory. Abraham
lived thousands of years before Jesus, before us, but he was given “the
mercies or pities of David, the faithful ones” ahead of time. He is
truly the “father of us all” (vs. 16). To explain, we are given,
according to the promise of Isaiah 55:3, “the pities of David, the
faithful ones” and we are justified and we believe because of them but
Abraham was given these mercies ahead of time, he was a glimpse of what
was to come for us.
One more question. It says in Romans 4 that“Abraham believed and it was
reckoned to him for righteousness” (vs. 3) Doesn’t that mean that we
are justified by our faith in Christ? There is no doubt that our trust
in the Lord saves us. When we believe we are “reckoned righteous”
before God. This is clear. Later, in Romans 10 Paul will say, “if thou
shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus and shalt believe in thine
heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved” (vs.
9). We most certainly are saved when we believe. Belief, like all our
good deeds, is taken into account by God because God is, after all, a
good God; how could he not see and reward the good that we do? However,
Paul is saying that the primary way that we are justified, made
righteous is, through “the faith of Jesus” and all that that means, and
not through our belief.
But how do we believe? The way that sinners come to belief is also
through “the faith of Jesus” that is “pities of David, the faithful
ones.” We believe in the same way we are justified: through the work of
the Father and the Lord Jesus. This is nothing new. Remember the
story of the Israelites. When they saw the bodies of the dead Egyptians
wash up on shore, they believed in God and in his servant Moses. How
did they believe? Through God’s work. Look at Romans 3:21-22 at the
beginning of this pamphlet once again. As my teacher Dr. Miller of
Princeton Theological Seminary told me so long ago, “the faith of Jesus”
results in “all the believing.” He did not know what “the faith of
Jesus” was, but he know that whatever it was it results in the believer.
Let’s sum up. I want to try to be as clear as possible here. When we
believe we are reckoned righteous. Our belief comes from the “faith of
Jesus” but this reckoning as righteous is secondary. The primary way
that we are made righteous is through the “faith of Jesus.” As all of
us know, our belief can fail. Think of Peter when he saw the waves.
His belief failed, but we have a rock that can never be shaken, that
rock is “the faith of Jesus,” shorthand for a story that spans the Old
Testament and is fulfilled in the New.
There are many more questions, and much to explore. Think of all the
places in the New Testament that speaks of the “faith of” Jesus. My
paper is the briefest of sketches concentrating on one small place in
the New Testament. Yet, I think the idea has promise. I have found the
idea of “the faith of Jesus” as “shorthand,” as an allusion to a much
larger story, answers many of the questions that come to mind as we read
Paul’s letters and the New Testament in general.
As an exercise I once read Galatians through aloud but when I would come
to the places where it spoke of the “faith of Jesus,” I would read
instead the “establishment” of Jesus. “Establishment” is a better
translation of “pisteous” or “faith” for the simple reason that it
reminds us of 2 Samuel 7 and the whole story of justification that
springs from that place. Reading through Galatians in this way, I was
conscious of a huge mental burden lifting and it was as if a window had
been opened and finally light and air were streaming through.
No Old Testament
But there is a huge problem to overcome. New Testament scholars today
are generally wary of letting the Old Testament interpret the New. Some
of this wariness is wise. We want to be careful not to read Old
Testament allusions into the New Testament where there are none. We
want to avoid flights of fancy and irresponsible imaginings. We want to
be scientific. I see no problem with caution, however, I am afraid
that there is a much larger problem. A huge pit has been dug between
the Old and New Testament. I have written before of how Kasemann said
that “faith in Christ” put a wedge between the Old and New Testaments. I
am afraid he is right. If it is all about my faith, all about me, we
are step by step forced to ignore the Old Testament. The Old Testament
simply does not tell a story like the one we have made up to explain
justification; how a little something of ours (clasp, vacuum,empty hand
or vessel) grasps the grace of God. The overall narrative of Paul’s
Bible (the Old Testament) is about how God saves and how his Messiah
saves a people who were trapped in sin; how he revives dry bones
incapable of life. The overarching story Old Testament is about a
sinful people, a sinful world and God’s reconciling work through the
mysterious “man of sorrows.” What if the caution of the scholars masks
an inability to really see the Old Testament? What if “faith in Christ”
makes us unable to bridge the gap between the New Testament and the
Bible of Paul and Jesus?
Morna Hooker
There is more to it of course. In 1959 a brilliant doctoral student
wrote a dissertation called “Jesus and the Servant” that roused the
theological world from their lazy sleep. It had been taken for granted
that Isaiah 53-55 described the cross and resurrection and that Jesus
understood himself to be the man of sorrows in his suffering, death and
resurrection. Morna Hooker questioned this and in large part continues
to question it to this day. Although I do not have time in this paper
to address these issues, I believe that all of her well-founded doubts
can be set to rest. There is a way. Moreover, I would like to call
attention to a desire that she expresses early in her dissertation. She
wanted the death and resurrection of Jesus to have a broader basis than
Isaiah 53-55 alone. In other words she want the whole Bible to play
into Jesus’ death and resurrection. I believe that this desire was an
excellent one, a desire that I share but that I believe is satisfied if
“the faith of Jesus” is shorthand, an allusion to a much larger story, a
story spanning the Old Testament and elucidated in the New.
