Marcion

Back to Witherington, and nearly done. Several of his comments defend against my charge that pacifists tend toward Marcionism. He writes: “it is not Marcionism to recognize that the OT tells the story of covenants that Christians are no longer under, and which the NT says quite clearly reflects God dealing with the hardness of human hearts problem, God dealing with fallen humans where they are. God’s perfect will is not revealed in the blood and guts narratives of the OT and they provide no basis for Christian praxis. Christians are under the new covenant, not any of the old ones. What is most stunning about Leithart’s analysis is his complete failure to have any kind of sense of progressive revelation in the Scriptures, despite the fact that texts like Hebrews 1.1-4 tells us very clearly that the revelation in previous days was partial and piecemeal, but in Christ the will and character of God is fully revealed and evident.”

What is most stunning about Witherington’s criticism is how thoroughly he misses the point of the section of my book he’s reviewing. The thrust of the last chapter is to describe the “end of sacrifice,” that is, the end of an old covenant order centered on animal sacrifice. The whole point of the chapter is to suggest that Constantine’s conversion, and the transformation of Roman order that resulted, was a real “baptism” of Rome, a real transition from a Rome-under- stoicheia to a Rome-after- stoicheia , a Rome-come-of-age. As I try to elaborate in the book, drawing largely on the brilliant work of Guy Stroumsa, the end of sacrifice was an epochal moment in the history of civilization.

What’s intriguing, if not stunning, is the way that Witherington expresses the discontinuity between old and new. Much I agree with: Scripture describes covenants Christians are no longer under, the NT deals with the problem of hard hearts, there is progressive revelation, the old revelation was partial and piecemeal, Christ is the final Word and Will of God. Nothing I wrote in Defending Constantine suggests anything different. But I do contest the inference that the narratives of the OT “provide no basis for Christian praxis.” No basis? And this as part of a paragraph that attempts to rebut my charge of Marcionism?

According to Tertullian ( Prescription , 30), “Marcion separated the New Testament from the Old, he is (necessarily) subsequent to that which he separated, inasmuch as it was only in his power to separate what was (previously) united.” In Against Marcion (4.6), Tertullian claims that “the whole aim at which he has strenuously laboured even in the drawing up of his Antitheses , centres in this, that he may establish a diversity between the Old and the New Testaments, so that his own Christ may be separate from the Creator, as belonging to this rival god, and as alien from the law and the prophets.” I’m not claiming that Witherington, or pacifists, teach the full Marcionite heresy of two gods. Witherington confesses Jesus to be the eternal Son of the Creator. But on the question of the relation of the two testaments, I don’t think I’m imagining things to detect a wisp of Marcionite aroma in the air.

I cite a couple of NT passages that, on my reading, suggest that NT writers endorsed “blood-and-guts” actions of Old Testament saints. Hebrews 11:34 says that the saints of old conquered kingdoms, and in his sermon in Acts 7 Stephen endorses Moses’ defense of a Hebrew slave with lethal force. Witherington responds to these examples with these comments: “Heb. 11.34 tells us certainly that OT kings conquered kingdoms and administered justice through faith clearly enough but the focus is on their faith, and the reference is to OT rulers, not to Christians. There is nothing here that implies an endorsement of such activities by ordinary Christians. At most you could argue such a text might be applicable to a Constantine perhaps.” And on Acts 7, he writes: “Doubtless the Jews didn’t stone Stephen for mentioning Moses’ murdering of Egyptians an action which not incidentally Moses knew was wrong and fled the country for. But in any case Stephen’s critique is given to Jews who would evaluate it on the basis of the old covenant. He is not exhorting Christians here!”

Regarding Hebrews 11, the point I was making stands if Witherington acknowledges that the passage might apply to “a Constantine.” But again, he polarizes what applies to Christians and what applies to Old Testament rulers. Perhaps he has “private Christians” in view, but that is not clear. Regardless, the entire point of Hebrews 11 is to encourage ordinary Christians. The chapter is a review of the acts of faith by which saints of old “gained approval” (v. 2). They were not among those who shrink back (10:39), and, surrounded by the cloud of Old Testament witnesses, Christians should persevere in the race of faith set before us (12:1-3). Christians should take encouragement from the faithful deeds of Noah and Abraham and Jacob, from the faithful deeds of martyrs, but also from the faithful deeds of those who conquered kingdoms, became mighty in war, did righteousness, and put foreign armies to flight (11:32-34). Christians should be encouraged in faith by considering the faith of Gideon, Barak, Jephthah, Samson (11:32). My argument from this passage, directed against pacifism, is straightforward: The writer to the Hebrews says that faith can be expressed in military exploits; becoming mighty in war can be “by faith”; therefore, the writer to the Hebrews doesn’t think making war is inherently evil. The writer to the Hebrews, in short, provides evidence of early Christian views of war, especially of the wars of Israel. And the views he expresses are not pacifist views, nor, obviously enough, Marcionite.

My argument from Acts 7 is similar: Whether or not Stephen is “exhorting Christians” is irrelevant. Whoever he is exhorting, we can assume that his final sermon honestly expresses his own convictions. And Stephen, the first martyr!, expresses the conviction that Moses did not commit murder when he killed the Egyptian but instead “took vengeance for the oppressed” (v. 24), and act that, according to Stephen, Moses saw as the beginning of the deliverance of Israel from their Egyptian oppressors (v. 25). Would Stephen have said this if he thought all killing was sinful? Would he have said this if he was a pacifist?

One final, much-compressed, point: Witherington’s contempt for “allegory” is one of the signals of the Marcionite drift of his treatment of these subjects. How does one make sense of both the obvious and radical differences between Old and New, and the Christian conviction that the Bible is a united book? If one rejects allegory or typology, what is the alternative? Is the blood and guts just there to remind us of what we have transcended? If the blood and guts of the Old Testament is not part of an emerging portrait of the Christ, an opaque but clarifying portrait whose completion is admittedly astonishing and paradoxical, then what is it? Here is my antithesis: Choose whom you will serve, “Allegory” or Marcion.