02. Formative Influences in St Paul's Conceptions of The Last Things
Chapter II FORMATIVE INFLUENCES IN ST PAUL’S CONCEPTIONS OF THE LAST THINGS In the preceding chapter we have attempted to show that St Paul does not possess anything in the nature of a balanced or well-defined system of eschatological beliefs. But from the necessity of his Christian standpoint, as one who holds an ethical view of the world and human life, and as a firm believer in the future of the Kingdom of God, that Kingdom which has already begun to take shape, he will often have to deal with the Last Things. For the moral order and purpose of the universe, which have been illumined by the revelation of Jesus Christ, must be clearly vindicated to the Christian consciousness. Hence, although his conceptions of events and processes in this obscure realm find an utterance simply as the occasion prompts, and although no questions as to the due proportions or the respective prominence of separate subdivisions of Eschatology ever concern the apostle, we may be prepared to discover certain fundamental lines of thought which usually regulate his eschatological discussions. Thus we are not dealing with casual statements which St Paul has thrown off without reflection, statements to which he would not assign the weight of firm conviction. Eschatological considerations, as we have seen, occupy a foremost place within his mental horizon. They must have been constantly emphasised in his missionary preaching, as may be gathered from the letters to the Thessalonians and Corinthians. Probably the lacunæ, which sometimes puzzle us as we read these discussions, could often be filled up by his readers from their recollection of his oral instructions.1 [Note: Cf. Bornemann on Thessalonians (Meyer, 5-6), p. 534.] Famous passages like 1 Corinthians 15:1-58 and 2 Corinthians 5:1-10 are sufficient proof that St Paul had devoted careful thought to the events of the End. Accordingly, there are certain clear landmarks which serve to guide us through the domain of his Eschatology. These may come into view, at times, in the most isolated fashion. The apostle may never have occasion, at least in his extant Epistles, to follow out his main positions to their logical conclusions. But there is a group of crucial certainties among the “Things to Come,” round which his thought invariably revolves.2 [Note: Titius remarks with justice that St Paul selects for special treatment the two aspects of Eschatology to which a saving interest belongs, the Resurrection and the Judgment (involving, of course, the Parousia). In each of these he can sum up salvation as a whole (pp. 50, 51).] They may be roughly classified as the Parousia or Final Advent of Christ, the Resurrection from the dead, and the Consummation of a redeemed and glorified humanity, in which the universe reaches the goal of the Divine purpose. Obviously, these great conceptions will draw others in their train. Death and Eternal Life, the State after death, Judgment and Retribution, the Inheritance of the Saints-all are implicated in the data with which he starts, although we cannot forecast, from their relative importance to our minds, the proportions which they will assume in the discussions of the apostle.
As soon as the primary conceptions of which he treats are stated, we recognise that some of them at least are common to all systems of religion.1 [Note: “Eschatological conceptions seem generally, in all religions, to belong to the most ancient animistic group of ideas” (Schwally, Leben nach d. Tode, p. 6).] In one shape or other, eschatological beliefs belong to primitive man. In several ancient faiths they occupy the forefront. In all they are necessarily interwoven with men’s fundamental religious ideas. And they will usually be linked to these in their cruder forms.2 [Note: Cf. Jeremias (Babylon.-Assyr. Vorstellungen v. Leben nach d. Tode, p. 107): “In no province of religious thought has the original Semitic popular tradition so lastingly endured in the Old Testament as in the ideas of the fortunes of man after death.” See also Davidson on the Old Testament idea of death: “This idea is not strictly the teaching of revelation … it is the popular idea from which revelation starts; and revelation on the question rather consists in exhibiting to us how the pious soul struggled with this popular conception and strove to overcome it, and how faith demanded and realised … its demand that the communion with God enjoyed in this life should not be interrupted in death” (onJob 14:13-15). This general consideration is largely normative for the methods of Pauline Eschatology.] Accordingly, we ought to mark the essential difference in origin between them and other prominent factors in St Paul’s theology. Justification may be taken as an instance in point. No doubt it would be true to say that we find the roots of this epoch-making doctrine to some extent in the Old Testament, and to a greater still in Judaism. The righteousness of God and His demand for righteousness in men are paramount ideas in prophets and psalmists. And to the Hebrew mind, righteousness “is not so much a moral quality as a legal status” (W. R. Smith, Prophets of Israel, p. 72), a judgment of God that we are right with Him. In the later extra-canonical literature, righteousness according to the law is the chief aim of every devout Jew. His deeds of obedience procure merit for him with God. God weighs his actions in the balances, and one side or other prevails. He is accepted or he is condemned.1 [Note: See, e.g., 4 Ezra 3:34 : “Now, therefore, weigh our sins and those of the inhabitants of the world on the balance, that it may be discovered to which side the turn of the scale inclines”; Enoch xli. 1, lxi. 8. Cf. Weber, Lehren d. Talmud, pp. 272, 273 et al.; Volz, Jüdische Eschatologie, p. 95.] It is easy to discover that in these ideas we have the mental atmosphere in which St Paul’s great doctrine originates. But its centre of gravity is wholly changed. So many new factors intervene, that the transformation of the conception is far more conspicuous than its connections with pre-existing Jewish thought. Faith in Jesus Christ as the sole ground of justification alters so completely the older views of the soul’s relation to God, that we are ushered into a new world of spiritual phenomena. The very terms employed have been filled with a fresh content. In essential respects, the doctrine has become the converse of its counterpart in Judaism. It is natural that it should be otherwise with the data of St Paul’s Eschatology. While a truly recreating power has entered that domain also, we may still expect to deal largely with current beliefs and current imagery. An Eschatology will not call so quickly for change as a Theology or a Soteriology. It will adapt itself but slowly to the higher stages of spirituality which may have been reached in the doctrines of God or salvation. The reasons are obvious. Men represent the Last Things to their minds by means of pictures. They possess a kind of eschatological scenery. This stamps itself upon their imagination from childhood. By degrees they may fully recognise that it is crude and imperfect. But it serves as a rough, working instrument of thought. Meanwhile the more central truths within their spiritual vista may have been undergoing a silent but essential modification. It may be long before it is borne in upon them that they must readjust the various positions of their tacitly-held theological system for the sake of congruity. For imagery, unlike abstract thought, is exceedingly flexible. And we unconsciously read into the familiar pictures the new spiritual significance which has been independently attained. In the case of St Paul, we cannot, indeed, overestimate the remoulding power of his Christian experience in the province of Eschatology. But we shall be better able to appreciate the range and depth of the transformation if we endeavour to realise, in brief outline, first, the heritage of belief he carried with him from the Old Testament, and second, the Judaistic background which must, to some extent, have affected his conceptions of the Last Things.
Before making this attempt (and it can only be done within narrow limits), let us guard against the prejudice which often attaches itself to such methods of investigation. We have no sympathy with those who reduce great factors in the spiritual or intellectual history of the race to mere bundles of influences which can be discovered and classified by minute analysis. This is dull pedantry. The transcending personality is immeasurably greater than all those forces which have fostered his development. The secret of his mastery among his fellows is just that elusive and yet commanding individuality which refuses to be tracked, which welds together in itself all that is of worth in its environment, repelling, attracting, selecting, transfiguring, impressing upon the whole mass of its experience the stamp of its own unique power. Yet, on the other hand, it is no disparagement, even to a master in the science of the Divine like St Paul, to take account of the intellectual habits amidst which his mind received its bent, to try to discover how he dealt with the beliefs and convictions which he found existing, to trace his relation to contemporary thought, in order that we may more accurately estimate the influence of his personal Christian experience. Obviously, the attempt has to be made with delicacy and caution, for the workings of spiritual forces are not mechanical processes. “The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.” Moreover, it has to be remembered that no stage in the religious or ethical development of a people is accidental or unimportant. Some investigators, for example, seem to assume that when they have referred a particular view or speculation to later Judaism or to the Rabbis, they have thereby proved its worthlessness as a normative element in Christian theology. It appears to us that this is an utterly unscientific procedure. If we believe in any Divine purpose leading on humanity to purer and higher apprehensions of spiritual truth, we must assign no secondary place to that movement of thought which was the immediate precursor of the religion of the New Testament. In attempting to estimate the influence of the Old Testament on St Paul’s Eschatology, we shall begin by noticing more generally the lines along which such influences may be traced. The Old Testament contains chiefly an Eschatology of the nation. In this is revealed the organic connection of its Eschatology with its theology. Jehovah is the God of Israel rather than of the individual Israelite. His covenant is made with His people. In the Old Testament, the solidarity of the nation stands always in the forefront. It is the unit with which Jehovah enters into relations. Hence the fulfilment of the Divine purpose, the realising of the Divine order, must be looked for on national rather than on individual lines.1 [Note: Probably Prof. Charles does not overstate the truth in asserting, that “never in Palestinian Judaism, down to the Christian era, did the doctrine of a merely individual immortality appeal to any but a few isolated thinkers” (Encycl. Biblica, i. col. 1347).] Such facts largely account for the absence of any clear or well-defined utterances on those problems of the End which have a paramount interest for us. The favourite ideal of the prophets is a purified Israel, which, according to some of them, shall be the centre of light for the whole world.2 [Note: This is the view ofMicah 4:1-2;Isaiah 2:2-4; Isaiah 11:9-10. On the other hand, Amos, Hosea, and Joel seem to restrict the future blessedness to their own people. See Drummond, Jewish Messiah, pp. 186 ff.] This regenerated kingdom absorbs their thoughts on the consummation of all things. Israel shall become in the fullest sense God’s people, and He will be their God. The scene of the perfected theocracy is this earth, often conceived as renewed and glorified (Isaiah 65:17; Isaiah 66:22).1 [Note: Such a conception is true to a typical dogma of Apocalyptic which affirms that the end is to be like the beginning. Cf. Barn. vi. 3;
Different writers present varying pictures of the events which lead up to the establishment of the Divine order. In some the figure of the Messianic King occupies a prominent place. This is true, e.g., of Isaiah (11:1), Micah (5:2), and Zechariah (9:9). In the second part of Isaiah, the Servant of the Lord is the great instrument of Jehovah’s operations. But most of the prophetic writers agree in ushering in the crisis of transformation by a definite event, the Day of the Lord. For Jehovah’s own presence and working are the most inspiring of all Messianic hopes (so Dr Davidson). This is a day of judgment, and also of vindication. Its character, like all manifestations of Jehovah, is ethical. It comes laden with terror and destruction for the enemies of God: it marks out for favour and salvation His chosen people. It is the day when the Divine purposes, which have been slowly ripening, come to maturity. From that time forward the new reign of righteousness is firmly established, whether God, or His vicegerent, the Messiah, be directly conceived as Ruler. (On the parallel existence of these two conceptions in O.T., see Davidson, Old Testament Prophecy, pp. 311, 312.) Old Testament writers depict this epoch in glowing colours, but the details are vague, and the outlines more or less fluctuating. It is obvious that we need not expect to find any coherent forecasts of the time when these decisive occurrences shall break in upon the common order of human life. It is characteristic of the prophetic vision, to compress great moments within a brief space (so Dr Davidson). But the prophets had their expectations heightened when they saw rapid and crucial movements shaping themselves in the history of their nation. Sudden revolutions and catastrophes, overwhelming disasters like the Babylonian invasion and conquest, seemed to portend a speedy intervention of the Divine arm. At such times, when the bulk of their fellow-countrymen had already begun to recognise the punishment of their stubborn sinfulness, the hopes of the prophets were bound up with the righteous remnant (e.g.Isaiah 6:13), the holy kernel of the nation, of whose existence they were assured, and who must ultimately form the nucleus of the realised Kingdom of God. Now, however nationalistic their conception of the Kingdom might be in its earlier stages, such a limitation was bound to be ultimately transcended. Their contact with the great empires of Assyria and Babylon must have immensely widened their conception of the world. And already the germ of universalism was to be found in the intimate relation between their Eschatology and their Theology. The great spiritual fact, which was the basis of their faith, the unity of God, must finally lead them to its corollary, the unity of mankind. And the rule of God being, necessarily, a righteous rule, there must follow the idea of a moral renovation of humanity.1 [Note: Cf. Davidson in H.D.B., iv. 121; Drummond, Jewish Messiah, p. 328.] We can see, therefore, how all along their conceptions of the Last Things contained the potentiality of a world-wide application: how the way was being prepared for more transcendental conceptions of Judgment and Salvation.
There is no lack of material, as is evident, for reconstructing in a rough fashion the general prophetic picture of the End, or rather, final epoch-a picture which, in its main outlines, we can trace also in the Psalms. Its original basis, the conviction that the scene of God’s Kingdom will be a regenerated earth; that its centre will be the holy city Jerusalem; that from thence God, or His representative the Messianic King,2 [Note: It is interesting to note the rarity of the Messianic idea in the literature of the Maccabæan period. Apparently the triumph of the Maccabees satisfied the popular hopes. It was the experience of hardship and calamity that followed, which kindled the Messianic Hope throughout the nation as a whole. Cf. Drummond, op. cit., p. 269.] will rule in wisdom and righteousness and mercy over Israel and those Gentiles who have come to the light which shines from Zion-this conviction will necessarily involve the use of imagery derived from human experience.3 [Note: “The moral and religious element is the essential part of the prophecy, the form in which it is to verify itself is secondary. The form was of the nature of an embodiment, a projection or construction, and the materials of which the fabric was reared were those lying to the hand of the prophet in each successive age” (Davidson, op. cit., p. 126).] No doubt the prophets themselves are often conscious that their images are only inadequate approximations to the truth lying within their field of vision, for the transfigured earth and the new Jerusalem will be the home of spiritual forces, expressions of the Divine energy, such as men have never dreamed of. Still, the features of the picture will be essentially anthropomorphic; the sounding of the trumpet, which summons to the great assize; the Theophany itself, with its awe-inspiring accompaniments of fire and tempest and glowing clouds; the voice of thunder, which will shake the earth; the valley of Hinnom, where the bodies of the slain shall be consumed in heaps, or left a prey to the worms. No other setting could so vividly have represented to their contemporaries the terrific realities of judgment and retribution, and the consummation of blessedness for all who have been faithful to their covenant with Jehovah. May we not say that it is almost impossible to give practical value at any time to the conceptions of the final transcendent processes of God’s moral order, without calling to our aid the ordinary human realisations of penalty and judgment? The prophecies of the Book of Daniel may be regarded as standing by themselves in this connection.1 [Note: Closely parallel are the Visions of Zechariah (see Smend, Alttest. Religionsgeschichte, p. 473).] They belong to that influential department of Jewish literature known as Apocalyptic. They are concerned almost exclusively with the events of the End. They deal in a mysterious, perhaps one might say, in an esoteric manner, with those movements of history which lead up to the manifestation of the kingdom of the saints of the Most High. In an exceedingly compressed form, the fortunes of the chosen people, as these are moulded by the sway of successive foreign princes, are traced through a group of symbolic visions. In chap. 11, certain remarkable characteristics are ascribed to some of the most impious heathen kings, gross irreligion and daring sacrilege and overweening insolence, which appear to the seer’s mind as the culmination of an almost superhuman wickedness. The colours of this picture seem to have made a profound impression on readers of the prophecy, for, as we shall discover, they reappear frequently in the apocalyptic tradition, and supply a setting for some of the most obscure of St Paul’s eschatological forebodings.
Even from this meagre outline, which will be filled in, more or less, in subsequent chapters, we receive a glimpse of the eschatological background which lies behind the religious thought of St Paul. It is, indeed, a current fashion to minimise his relation to the ancient Scriptures of his people, as compared with his indebtedness to the teachings of post-canonical Judaistic literature, in its various branches. Thus, e.g., Weizsäcker: “The same apostle, who freed the oldest Christianity from the limitations of the Jewish people and its religion, has, perhaps, chiefly contributed, on another side, to retain the Jewish spirit in it” (Apostol. Zeitalter, p. 105). We must understand here by the “Jewish spirit,” that which prevailed in the Rabbinic circle in which St Paul received his early training. Now, as we shall have frequent occasion to show, his writings reveal every here and there affinities with his native environment. But the remarkable fact remains that these affinities are largely superficial, that they disclose themselves at the circumference rather than at the centre of his thought. It is the spirit of his religion which is essentially alien to contemporary Judaism and in profound harmony with the prophets and psalmists of the Old Testament. In this he is a true follower of his Master. Jesus also felt in His deepest consciousness the enduring significance of the Divine revelation as contained in the Old Testament. He recognised its permanent elements, and used them in His own presentation of spiritual truth. He found in the spirit of prophetism the genuine evidence of a direct fellowship with God, and hence a discernment of the eternal principles of the Divine operation. St Paul occupies a similar standpoint. We know, indeed, that the apostle employed Scripture proofs, repeatedly, according to the fashion of his time, regarding the original historical sense of passages as of minor importance in comparison with their bearing on the facts of the Christian dispensation (e.g., Romans 4:24; Romans 15:2; 1 Corinthians 10:11).1 [Note: See Clemen, S.K., 1902, p. 178 ff.] But this is a phenomenon of superficial importance as compared with his farreaching appreciation of the inward vitality of the prophetic religion.2 [Note: Cf. Heinrici on 2 Corinthians (Meyer, 8 1900), p. 451.] He is able to lay aside the fantastic imaginations and the pedantic hair-splitting which have obscured so much that is of high ethical worth in Rabbinic theology. As the true successor of the great prophets, who has discovered in the Christian revelation the summing up and attainment of their highest ideals, he is equipped by the very possession of their spirit for the world-embracing vocation of missionary to the nations. The truth is that his conversion seems to have sent him back with fresh vision to the Old Testament. However ready he shows himself to emphasise the preparatory, pædagogic purpose of the law enshrined in it, he assimilates by an inherent sympathy its most lofty spiritual doctrines, and esteems them with an intensified devotion, just because their deepest and perennial significance dawns upon him in the light of his fellowship with the Lord. Here and there he may make a purely dialectic use of passages for argument’s sake, a use so foreign to our habits of thought that we are apt to do injustice to a man whose reverence for the Divine revelation was as profound as his spiritual life. To realise his genuine sympathy with the purest strain in Old Testament religion, we have only to compare him with subtle thinkers like Philo, with ardent enthusiasts like the Jewish apocalyptic writers, or with devout Christians like the Apostolic Fathers. This man, from the vantage-ground which he has found in Christ, recognises in prophet and psalmist real mediators of God’s self-disclosure to mankind. While the stream of Divine revelation has been infinitely deepened and broadened, it has not left the rivulets of prophetic inspiration to stagnate in isolated pools.
It need hardly be said that the apostle has transformed the prophetic ideas of the Old Testament under the influence of the new Christian revelation. Thus the culmination of the Providential development is found in Jesus Christ, the crucified and risen Son of God, in whom all things are finally summed up (Ephesians 1:10). Acceptance in the day of judgment is determined by men’s attitude to the Gospel of Christ (Romans 4:25; Romans 5:8-10; Romans 14:9; Romans 14:18; 1 Corinthians 3:11). Hence, of course, it follows that all national restrictions have vanished. For “there is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male or female.” All are “one man in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). But this higher stage in the knowledge of God to which men have been called in no way conflicts for the apostle’s mind with the prophetic principle. It is the copestone of the great edifice of salvation. Therefore it is not too much, we believe, to assert that St Paul has rediscovered the Old Testament for himself as a Christian, and the Church has inherited the benefits of his discovery. The Old Testament has furnished the apostle with a remarkable teleology. Strangely enough, he makes scanty use of that expression for the new Divine order which crystallised the deepest conceptions of the prophets, and was so frequently found upon the lips of Jesus-the Kingdom of God. Yet the terms in his Epistles which perhaps most nearly express its meaning,
Thus the Day of the Lord, which for the prophets was to be the inauguration of the new era, continues to hold its prominence in St Paul. And he has no hesitation, more especially in his earlier Epistles, in using the ancient imagery to describe its accompaniments. Noteworthy instances occur in the Epistles to the Thessalonians. There we find a veritable mosaic of quotations from, and reminiscences of, the Old Testament, the books chiefly drawn upon being Isaiah and Daniel. God’s Son is to come from heaven with all His holy ones. Cf.Zechariah 14:5; Daniel 7:13. 1 [Note: The O.T. parallels throughout our discussion must be examined in the LXX. For, as a general rule, St Paul used the Greek Bible.] He is to descend with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and the trumpet of God. Cf.Isaiah 27:13; Exodus 19:11; Exodus 19:13; Exodus 19:16-18 .2 [Note: This parallel is peculiarly remarkable.] The Day of the Lord will surprise them as a thief in the night. Cf.Joel 2:1-11, especially ver. 9. The Lord Jesus is to be revealed from heaven in flaming fire. Cf.Isaiah 66:15; Psalms 18:8; Exodus 24:17; Deuteronomy 4:24. He takes vengeance on them that know not God. Cf.Isaiah 35:4; Jeremiah 10:25. They are punished with destruction from the face of the Lord and from the glory of His power. Cf.Isaiah 2:10. He shall be glorified in His saints. Cf.Isaiah 66:5; Isaiah 49:3; Psalms 68:1-35ad init.3 [Note: Bornemann (on2 Thessalonians 2:6-10) supposes that verses 7b-10a are a portion (perhaps altered here and there) of an early Christian psalm or hymn. The following is a remarkable group of parallels which he gives to show the O.T. basis of the passage:-Isaiah 61:2;2 Thessalonians 1:6-7; 2 Thessalonians 1:10;Isaiah 66:4f., 14 f.;2 Thessalonians 1:6; 2 Thessalonians 1:8;Lamentations 3:63;2 Thessalonians 1:6;Obadiah 1:15;2 Thessalonians 1:6;Isaiah 63:4; Isaiah 63:7;2 Thessalonians 1:6;Isaiah 19:20;2 Thessalonians 1:6;Isaiah 59:18;2 Thessalonians 1:6;Jeremiah 25:12;2 Thessalonians 1:8;Isaiah 29:6;2 Thessalonians 1:8;Isaiah 4:2ff;2 Thessalonians 1:10;Ezekiel 38:23;2 Thessalonians 1:10; 2 Thessalonians 1:12;Ezekiel 34:8;2 Thessalonians 1:5-6;Psalms 78:6;2 Thessalonians 1:8;Daniel 7:9; Daniel 7:21f;2 Thessalonians 1:10-11;Isaiah 49:3;2 Thessalonians 1:10; 2 Thessalonians 1:12;Ezekiel 39:21;2 Thessalonians 1:10;Ezekiel 35:4;2 Thessalonians 1:6;Jeremiah 15:21;2 Thessalonians 1:8;Isaiah 4:5;2 Thessalonians 1:9;Isaiah 2:10;2 Thessalonians 1:9;Ezekiel 28:22;2 Thessalonians 1:10; 2 Thessalonians 1:12.
Possibly we have here some evidence for Weizsäcker’s hypothesis that St Paul “arranged a kind of system of doctrine in the form of proofs from Scripture for use in giving instruction” (Apost. Zeitalter, p. 113; see also p. 119).] The portrayal of the “man of lawlessness” in 2 Thessalonians 2:1-17, whatever other elements it may contain, has certainly modelled many of its features on various passages in Daniel. Notable parallels to the passage will be found in Daniel 11:30 to end, 5:20, 23, 7:25, 8:23-25. This last reference is suggestive. In the LXX. of Daniel 8:23-25 (both versions) we have the picture of a king who shall arise “when their sins are fulfilled” (
We have been considering the influence of the Old Testament upon St Paul in one or two of its aspects, from the side of its Eschatology of the nation. This may perhaps appear to us of secondary interest, as compared with the final condition of the individual. All recent discussions of the subject have taught us how we must approach the Old Testament treatment of immortality and its cognate conceptions. The best scholars are agreed that not until a late date in the history of religious thought in Israel did such questions appeal for discussion.1 [Note: Jeremias suggestively points out that, in the case of the peoples of the Euphrates valley, “occupation with the claims of this world absorbed all their religious interest. There is no room for that painful reflection and philosophising as to the Whence and Whither of the soul, which was so characteristic of the Egyptian people” (Babylon.-Assyr. Vorstellungen, p. 2).] At the first glance, a fact like this seems to place the religion of which it is true on a lower level than the faiths of contemporary peoples, which reveal many highly-developed conceptions of the life after death. But such a conclusion is by no means warranted. Other elements in the religion must be taken into account. Thus, in Egypt, as Wiedemann points out, we have “the unique spectacle of one of the most elaborate forms of the doctrine of immortality side by side with the most elementary conception of higher beings ever formulated by any people” (Ancient Egyptian Doct. of Immortality, p. 2). That is the precise converse of the condition of belief in Israel. The prophetic conception of God is marvellously pure and lofty. He is pre-eminently the Living and the Holy One. He fills existence as they know it. The supreme question of religion is their actual attitude towards Him. The enjoyment of His favour, as that was evidenced by a happy and prosperous life, they regarded as their highest boon. Length of days and material blessedness were the rewards of righteousness and obedience. This earthly life was precious as the scene of fellowship with Jehovah. The dreary, shadowy existence in Sheol2 [Note: Probably the original popular notion was that of the family grave, as indicated, e.g., by the recurrence of the phrase, “he was gathered to his fathers.” Gradually there arose the conception of a “unified realm of shadows,” “the house of meeting for all living” (Job 30:23). See Bertholet, Israelitische Vorstellungen v. Zustand nach d. Tode, p. 18.] meant the privation of that and all other privileges. Only the living could praise God. The dead were shut out from access to Him in the land of silence. But as reflection on human life and destiny was deepened, perplexing problems forced themselves on earnest minds. On the one hand, the trials of righteous men, and the good fortune of many who were ungodly, undermined the simple and straightforward theory of religion which had been prevalent. Facts refused to square with it. Thus there arose the intellectual and moral demand for a future order of things, in which the apparent inequalities of the present should be adjusted, in which righteousness should be recompensed and evil visited with punishment. The reference of this spiritual balancing of accounts to a future life which was ultimately arrived at, is scarcely enunciated in the Old Testament, although in the Book of Job and several Psalms most significant hints and foreshadowings of it are apparent. In the epoch of the canonical writings it seems still to be assigned to a purified State existing under earthly conditions, in which the sway of God is supreme. But from another standpoint, a closer approximation was made to the New Testament conception of immortality. In various Psalms, notably the sixteenth, the forty-ninth, and the seventy-third, we find remarkable expressions of confidence in God.1 [Note: We are scarcely prepared to believe, with Charles, that for the authors ofPsalms 49:1-20; Psalms 73:1-28. Sheol is the future abode of the wicked only, and heaven of the righteous (Eschatology, pp. 73, 74). They do indeed recognise clearly the distinction between the righteous and the ungodly, but the emphasis of their hope is not laid upon the escaping from punishment and the attaining to bliss. It is the thought of overcoming death, the common lot of men, and the conviction that their life of fellowship with God will not be interrupted, which buoys up their souls. The Psalms contain no material for such detailed conceptions as Charles would derive.] The godly in Old Testament times had reached a marvellously vivid sense of the Divine fellowship. The full emphasis of their piety was laid upon this experience. It determined their philosophy of life.1 [Note: Cf. the apt words of Dr Salmond: “It (i.e. the O.T.) deals not with what man is, but with what he is to God” (Christian Doct. of Immortality, p. 217).] They possessed a unique sensitiveness to the Divine presence.2 [Note: “The consciousness of God (in the O.T.) is God’s giving Himself in the consciousness” (Davidson, H.D.B., i. p. 741).] It was no metaphor in their religion. Now this intense realisation of the nearness of the spiritual world in the present would largely account for their slowness in attaining a full-fledged doctrine of immortality. But it forms also the basis of those yearning utterances in the Psalms which we have mentioned. As they became more self-conscious, more introspective, the horror of death grew upon them. The cessation of all activity, bodily, intellectual, spiritual; the nerveless and phantom-like existence of the under-world became a grim nightmare. And the deeper their religious consciousness, the more profoundly they were affected. To conceive of a state in which they should be isolated from God, in which communion with Him was impossible-that was the bitterest element in their notion of Sheol.3 [Note: In the Babylonian religion, “the blessedness of the pious is fellowship with the gods: abandonment by the gods is the punishment of the wicked.… The certainty of being snatched from the saving hand of the gods in death is the bitterest drop in the cup of death” (Jeremias, op. cit. pp. 46, 48).] And so by the sheer force of their religious vitality they are carried past the current, popular beliefs, and crave an unbroken union with God. Not only so, but their deepest experience and their confidence as “covenant members of the theocracy,” assure them of such a relation. Their forecast of the future may be vague enough, but they refuse to contemplate an interruption of the Divine fellowship by death. Even if God cannot abide with them through death, He will by some merciful provision ransom them from it. This belief is, to all intents and purposes, a belief in immortality.1 [Note: It may be truly said that when the ideas of “communion with God” and “life” become synonymous, the religious belief in immortality is already there. See Schultz, O.T. Theol. (E. Tr.). ii. p. 82.] It is the inevitable result of their religious development. For “immortality is the corollary of religion. If there be religion, i.e. if God be, there is immortality, not of the soul, but of the whole personal being of man, Psalms 16:9” (Davidson, Job, p. 296). It is easy to see how this conviction prepared the way for the doctrine of the Resurrection on its more spiritual side. There were, indeed, various influences which led to the formation of this great conception. Some of these will come before us in our brief survey of the eschatological development of Judaism, and among them will be found several elements which do not possess a directly religious value. For there is possible a view of the Resurrection which leaves it little more than a piece of eschatological scenery. Such was not the conception which takes a central place in the teaching of St Paul. It touched his religious life in its deepest essence, communion of life with the risen Christ. But that experience upon which all his hopes of the future were based, is really the crowning development of the remarkable conviction which finds expression in the Old Testament psalm: “I have set the Lord always before me: because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also shall dwell in safety. For Thou wilt not leave my soul to Sheol; neither wilt Thou suffer thy godly (or beloved) one to see the pit” (Psalms 16:8-10).1 [Note: The sense of vagueness of which we are conscious in the utterances of the above-quoted Psalms, is due to the fact that the eternal fellowship with God to which they point is conceived not so much post-temporally, as rather super-temporally. See Kleinert, S.K., 1895, p. 726.]
Perhaps enough has been said to indicate generally the lines on which both the direct and the indirect influence of Old Testament conceptions of the Last Things upon the mind and speculation of St Paul may be expected to reveal themselves. Separate details will frequently demand consideration in subsequent chapters. One caution, however, ought to be noted before we pass from this subject. There can be little doubt that St Paul, as we shall try to show later, was powerfully influenced by the apostolic tradition of the eschatological teaching of Jesus. This is revealed, for example, with remarkable clearness in those passages which we have singled out as intimately related to the prophetic teaching. The most striking instance is to be found in 2 Thessalonians 2:1-17. The parallels between that chapter and the discourse of Jesus on the Last Things, as reported in Matthew 24:1-51 (and parallels), are unmistakable. Cf.2 Thessalonians 2:1 with Matthew 24:31; Matthew 2:2 with 24:6, 2:3 with 24:12, 4, 2:4 with 24:15, 2:9 with 24:24. It is no exaggeration to say that Matthew 24:1-51 is the most instructive commentary on the chapter before us. It may be difficult to determine in what form this material lay before St Paul, but it is impossible to resist the conclusion that he was familiar with it.1 [Note: The curious position has been assumed (e.g. by Bousset), thatMatthew 24:1-51is to be explained by2 Thessalonians 2:1-17(see The Antichrist Legend, p. 23). This is surely one of the paradoxes of New Testament criticism.] No doubt the eschatological utterances of Jesus must have constituted a prominent element in the apostolic preaching and instruction. Perhaps no portion of the tradition of His ministry would appeal so powerfully to Christian circles, at a time when to believers the end of the age seemed imminent. Thus there is always the possible hypothesis that St Paul availed himself of the conceptions and the imagery of Old Testament Eschatology partly through the medium of the sayings of Jesus. But many of his applications of the earlier ideas are so distinctive, that we may safely attribute them to a patient and careful study of prophets and psalmists in the Greek version of the Old Testament. We lay stress on the version because, to an extent not yet sufficiently recognised, the thought of St Paul, and not merely his language, has been profoundly moulded by the LXX. Perhaps this is most apparent in a noteworthy subdivision of his eschatological speculation; we mean, the psychology which lies at its foundation. In the strictest sense, indeed, the apostle has no system of psychology.2 [Note: This holds good of the Biblical writers as a whole. As Dr Davidson expressed it, Biblical “Psychology” is a part of its ethics. It is not a physiology of the mind.] And it is vain to attempt to construct one.3 [Note: An example may be found in Simon’s Psychologie d. Ap. Paulus, Göttingen, 1897. Simon approaches the Epistles from a definite, philosophical standpoint, and uses their material in accordance with his psychological scheme. The discussion sheds little new light on the thought of the apostle.] But he was deeply interested in the mental and spiritual basis of religious experience. He was obliged to reflect on those functions of the inner life of man to which Divine influences attached themselves. He is in no sense scientific in his use of psychological terms. And if we presuppose or expect a rigorous terminology, we shall often miss his meaning. But he must employ an analysis of the religious consciousness, and his usage is closely related to the Old Testament, especially as it is interpreted by its Greek translators. In treating of St Paul’s fundamental conceptions of the Last Things, we shall require to examine his use of such important terms as
We have already emphasised the fact, that at times the influence of the Old Testament upon St Paul’s eschatological thought must probably be conceived as mediated by the teaching of Jesus. A similar hypothesis might be put forward, as we bring within our view another great epoch of religious thought with which the apostle stood in close contact, namely that of Judaism. It may be difficult to decide how far Judaism was a direct channel of Old Testament influence for St Paul. And the question is really of little importance. But it immediately touches our investigation to inquire to what extent the apostle was affected by the conceptions of the Last Things current among his contemporaries.1 [Note: The discussion of this subject in Thackeray’s Relation of St Paul to Contemporary Jewish Thought (London, 1900), pp. 98-135, is rather a collection of notes than a coherent investigation. The truth is, that Judaistic influences cannot be treated in severance from the other elements in the Eschatology of the apostle.] It is reasonable to expect that the atmosphere in which he was trained must have had a permanent meaning for his thinking.2 [Note: Dr Bruce appears to us to have overstated the truth when he says: “On no subject, perhaps, was Paul, in his way of thinking, more a man of his time than on that of Eschatology” (Expos., iv. 10. p. 300). This applies almost exclusively to the framework. The spirit and central principles of his eschatological conceptions were totally divergent from those of Pharisaism. We are all men of our time as regards the drapery in which we clothe our ideas of the Last Things.] The profoundest spiritual genius is, to some degree, a product of his surroundings. That fact in no sense collides with a genuine inspiration. For the Divine Spirit never works, so far as His operations are disclosed to us, independently of human thought. The highest spiritual truth must ever resemble a gem in a setting (cf.2 Corinthians 4:7). The setting cannot possess the same worth as the precious jewel it encloses, yet without it the jewel would be lost, or damaged, or prevented from being worn. We know with some accuracy the nature of St Paul’s environment. He was educated as a Pharisee. The Rabbi at whose feet he sat as a pupil was Gamaliel, the first of the seven famous teachers who were distinguished by the title Rabban (“our Master”), and grandson of the celebrated Hillel. It would be unwise to lay too much stress on Gamaliel’s personal idiosyncrasies, in estimating his influence on Paul. Tradition tells us that he was versed in Greek literature, an uncommon accomplishment for a Pharisee. This is borne out, perhaps, by the account of his tolerant attitude towards the Christians in the book of Acts, an account suspected by Baur on the ground of the persecuting zeal displayed by his pupil. A judgment of this kind reveals the dangers to which the critic is exposed in endeavouring to trace the influence of one mind upon another. It is much easier to tabulate probable points of contact under certain definite headings, than to follow out those subtle hints of shaping forces which are the truest indications of indebtedness of thought. It is possible that, under Gamaliel’s tuition, St Paul may have moved in a larger air than some of his contemporaries. But at best, there was a Pharisaic tradition which would be normative for his earlier theology.
It has been pointed out on a preceding page (p. 49), that the apostle goes back to Daniel for many features in one, at least, of his eschatological pictures. But Daniel belongs to a class of writings which had gained a great vogue in the time of our Lord, and long before that. Jewish apocalyptic literature is a species of the genus prophecy. It is by no means accidental that its products did not appear until after the era of the great prophets. A profound and inspiring religious literature must necessarily be the result of an intense and far-reaching spiritual movement in a nation or community. It is a spontaneous creation. It is the expression of a new kindling of spiritual intuition. It endures as a commanding type. But after the movement has done its work, after its vital energy has been diffused, there usually follows a period of greater or less stagnation. There are always earnest minds concerned about the spiritual prosperity of their time, and they attempt, by a process of reflection, to tread in the footsteps of their predecessors. They have a model to imitate. They can copy the phrases, and to some extent, the thoughts of the former days, but the inspiration is lacking. We are conscious of an artificiality in the whole standpoint of the apocalyptic writers. It is prophecy severed from history. The Old Testament prophets follow the track of movements, beginning to reveal themselves in the present, out into the future, interpreting the development by their insight into the eternal moral principles of the Divine operation, which they have gained by their experience of history and their fellowship with God. The apocalyptic writers turn the history of the past and present into prophecy, by mechanical methods. This they place in the mouth of some seer of the bygone ages, Enoch, or Moses, or Baruch. They recognise the doleful experiences of their own people. They are sadly conscious of their present prostration as a nation. Their political life is gone. They are only a downtrodden religious community. As individuals, also, they are exposed to suffering, in spite of their acknowledgment of the true God. Yet amidst all their depression, the amazing characteristic which has been a permanent possession of this indomitable people, comes to the rescue and asserts itself. Their hopefulness cannot be quenched. To the ancient seers of the Apocalypses has been granted a glimpse into the age-long development of the secret purposes of God. The calamitous experiences of this present world, in which righteousness seems to be crushed and godlessness to triumph, are not the conclusion of the whole matter. In direct antithesis to this Æon there is the new Æon, “the world to come.” In it both the righteous community and the righteous individual will be recompensed according to their deeds. No doubt there is a terrible obverse side to the coming retribution, for a woeful fate awaits the sinner, and sin is the transgression of the Divine law. But this apprehension is seldom found in the earlier Apocalyptists.1 [Note: See Gunkel (in Kautzsch), pp. 338, 339. He connects with this thought the feelings of St Paul before his conversion.] They console themselves with the hope of eternal life. The apocalyptic writers, to use Prof. Charles’s expression, really present “a Semitic philosophy of religion” (Book of Enoch, p. 23). Thus righteous individuals can find comfort in the knowledge that their trials are only part of a universal plan of God.2 [Note: See Gunkel, op. cit., p. 357. Bousset, Offenbarung Johannis (Meyer, 5), p. 5, has the interesting suggestion that the Judaistic conception of the world “as a unified whole, developing according to definite laws, was derived by Judaism from the outlook presented to it through its historical experience by the arising of the inwardly-unified world-power and civilisation of Greece. At the moment when Judaism, which had again wakened up to national consciousness, met the dominant power of Greece, there arose with Daniel Jewish Apocalyptic.” This idea has to be modified by the recollection that the Jewish conception of God in its ethical and spiritual transcendence was bound to lead up to a unified view of the world. This would be the main factor: the influence to which Bousset refers could be only secondary. And a further secondary motive in the advance to this position must have been the effect upon the mental outlook of the Jews of their dispersion among the nations.] In the new epoch, which will be inaugurated by a stern crisis of judgment, the enemies of Israel and of God will be destroyed or subjugated. God will vindicate Himself and His people. Evil will be extirpated. The sovereignty will belong to the righteous. The End will be brought back into the likeness of the beginning, when “God saw everything that He had made, and behold it was very good” (Genesis 1:31). Obviously, in this view of the future, a view which was promulgated with enthusiasm, there is a mingling of political with religious elements. And we know how that combination remained influential in the later development of the Messianic Hope. It was a momentous step in the history of religion when Jesus stripped the faith He was shaping into universal validity of this hampering constituent. St Paul was the true successor of his Lord when, in nascent Christianity, he gave the deathblow to all thoughts of a national prerogative.
It is important to notice that, in apocalyptic literature, the pictures of the Last Things have become far more detailed. The judgment, the torments and destruction of the wicked, the bliss of the righteous-all these are portrayed in forcible colours, and with a bewildering variety of images which are often fantastic and grotesque. And now, for the first time, a conception of vital import is added to Jewish Eschatology. The Resurrection begins to occupy a fixed place among the events of the final period of transition. Probably the actual conception originated directly in the consciousness that the future purified theocracy, the earnestly-desired Messianic Kingdom would be incomplete, were it not to include those godly members of the nation who had not survived to see it established. Such a feeling would be intensified by the events of the cruel persecutions under tyrants like Antiochus Epiphanes. Some of the noblest representatives of Judaism had perished as martyrs. It was impossible to believe that they could never have a share in the glory of their nation, for whose redemption they had suffered.1 [Note: “Tacitus remarks that the Jews only attributed immortality to the souls of those who died in combats or punishments” (Renan, L’Antechrist, p. 467, quoting Hist. v. 5). Can this dictum of the historian have any connection with the view in the text?] Must not God Himself, by the exercise of His almighty power, deliver them from Sheol, and restore them to a life of felicity among their brethren? Thus the idea of resurrection is prepared for by their confidence in the Divine retribution.2 [Note: Cf. Cheyne onIsaiah 26:19. Plato also regards the ideas of retribution and immortality as involved in each other. See Zeller, Plato, p. 408.] We can see the originally intimate connection between the hope of Resurrection and the Messianic Hope. It was at a later date, when the reign of Messiah was regarded as preliminary to the final Æon, that the two expectations became separated.3 [Note: See Schürer, H.J.P., ii. 2. pp. 175, 176.]
It must not, however, be supposed that this far-reaching conception would be attained along any single line of reasoning or belief.4 [Note: Gunkel (Schöpfung und Chaos, p. 291, note 2) apparently believes that the emergence of the Resurrection-doctrine in Judaism is due to Babylonian influences. Stave (Ueber d. Einfluss d. Parsismus auf d. Judenthum, p. 203) finds traces of indirect Persian influence. “Precisely the circumstance that the doctrine of resurrection occurs in close union with an apocalyptic view of the world, which has a noteworthy connection with Parsism, leads to this conclusion. In this general apocalyptic view, there are several features which more than prove … Persian influence. To these belong the universal-historical survey of history, its periods and their restriction to a definite space of time, which ultimately issues in the doctrine of a real world-renewal: the development of the power of evil spirits … and their defeat at the last judgment, and finally the doctrine of the beginning of future retribution in Sheol, transferred to Hell, from which resulted the separation of the ungodly from the pious immediately after death.” It seems to us that there is little need to have recourse to these extraneous influences for the explanation of the Resurrection-idea. As parallel religious phenomena they are of high interest and value, for they reveal a persistent trend of human thought in the spiritual domain. It is more reasonable to look for the origins of such a conception in the spiritual experience of Judaism itself. It would be absurd to deny the contact between Judaism, on the one hand, and Babylonian and Persian influences on the other, and the cosmological strain which appears in the former may, at least, be partly due to Persian stimulus (see Bousset, Religion d. Judenthums, p. 478), but epoch-making conceptions like the one before us cannot be interchanged like counters. They rather presuppose a gradual growth from roots fixed deep in the soil of the religious consciousness. That such presuppositions existed in Judaism we hope to have shown in the text. See also Bertholet, Vorstellungen v. d. Zustand n. d. Tode, p. 27; Böklen, Verwandtschaft d. jüd.-christ. mit d. parsisch. Eschatologie, pp. 147-149.] We have seen how some of the psalmists uttered a religious protest against the thought of separation from the living God. It may be difficult to discover whether they had a definite idea of resurrection: in any case, they groped eagerly after it. We have also to keep in mind the individualistic trend of religious thought which had revealed itself from the days of Jeremiah onwards, and was propagated by the influence of the Diaspora. While the righteous State or community still occupied the foreground, the individuals who composed it could never again be ignored. Hence, in the pseudepigraphal literature of Judaism anterior to and contemporary with St Paul, the fates of godly and ungodly persons in the future world have become a favourite subject of discussion. Participation in that eternal life which is attained through the Resurrection, and exclusion from it, are themes which now stand in the forefront of Jewish theology.
We need not attempt, within the space of a few pages, to give any adequate sketch of the eschatological conceptions of Judaism. This for obvious reasons. On the one hand, Eschatology may be said to form the main content of a whole branch, and that perhaps the most important branch, of later Jewish literature, the apocalyptic. On the other, there are so many modifications of the leading conceptions, and these are so frequently presented in a highly pictorial guise, that they could not be summed up under a few general headings. When treating of St Paul’s conceptions in detail, we shall have occasion to discuss their parallels in Judaism. All that can be done at present is to state in a few paragraphs the main categories with which the apostle, from his early training, must have been acquainted. In endeavouring to sketch even the fundamental positions of Judaistic Eschatology, one is perplexed by the confusing nature of the facts which have to be dealt with. It is impossible to assign a definite eschatological standpoint to many of the writings, as in certain very important instances, such as the Ethiopic Enoch and the Apocalypse of Baruch, there are sections which proceed from various hands and belong to different dates. To add to the complication, leading scholars are by no means agreed as to the dividing lines between these various sections. As an example, we may refer to the divergent theories described on pp. 9-20 of Prof. Charles’s Book of Enoch. Not only so, but again and again the same writer shows an elasticity in his conceptions of the Last Things which seems to make classification impossible.1 [Note: Cf., for example, the wide variation in the significations of
We have seen that in the Old Testament, Sheol denotes the under-world, the receptacle of the dead, both righteous and wicked. Its inhabitants possess an existence which cannot be called “life.” They are excluded from contact with God and man. No moral distinctions appear to prevail. A striking picture of their dreary plight is set before us in Isaiah 14:1-32, in a highly dramatic form. But a change of view begins to be manifest. The currents of thought, which have been briefly described above, make themselves felt. Thus when we come to examine the Book of Enoch, in some respects the most influential of all Jewish Apocalypses, belonging in its earliest sections to the second century b.c., we are confronted by a remarkable development. Sheol has now become an Intermediate State. All men enter it at death, but it has a very different significance for various classes. According to chap. xxii. of this work, assigned by Charles to a date, at the latest, anterior to 170 b.c., it has four divisions. The first contains the souls of the righteous who suffered a violent, unmerited death. The second also is allotted to the righteous, but to such as have escaped the hard fate of their brethren. The third is for sinners who escaped punishment in this life. “Here their souls are placed in great pain, till the great day of judgment and punishment and torture.” The fourth is reserved for sinners who did suffer in this earthly life, and therefore incur a milder penalty afterwards. “They shall be with criminals like themselves, but their souls shall not be slain1 [Note: This “slaying” does not imply annihilation. See Enoch, chap. cviii. 3.] on the day of judgment.” We have here a more detailed analysis of Sheol as the Intermediate State than is usually to be found, but it reveals the position which has been reached by an authoritative thinker at the beginning of the second century b.c.2 [Note: This is apparently the first occurrence of the idea of separate compartments in Sheol (cf. Clemen, Niedergefahren zu d. Toten, p. 148). For a fourfold lot in the state after death according to Plato, see Zeller, Plato, p. 394. Contrast the Rabbinic doctrine of the school of Schammai: “The Schammaites taught that there were three classes: the first two are those mentioned inDaniel 12:2; the third, in whose case merits and guilt are balanced, incur purifying fire, in which those to be purified waver up and down until they rise out of it purified, according toZechariah 13:9;1 Samuel 2:6. The scholars of Hillel, however, gather from the words “rich in mercy” (Exodus 34:6), that God allows the decision for this third class to incline towards mercy: it must have been with regard to them that David wrotePsalms 116:1-19” (Bacher, Agada d. Tannaiten, i. p. 18). Almost exactly parallel to this middle state is the Pehlevi conception of hamîstakân, see Söderblom, La Vie Future a’après le Mazdéisme, pp. 125-128.] The righteous1 [Note: The idea of Hades as the provisional abode of the righteous after death is the ordinary Pharisaic one. See Schwally, Leben n. d. Tode, pp. 166-168.] and one portion of the ungodly rise to be finally judged. The former (see chap. v. 7-9), after their resurrection, are, apparently, to live an untroubled life on this earth. The latter will be condemned to Gehenna, the proper hell, which is thus definitely separated from Sheol. The other group of sinners remains in Sheol for ever. We need not expect to find this view reappearing without alteration in other writings. Indeed, in the remaining sections of Enoch there are important divergences from it. Thus, in the section embracing chaps. xci.-civ., which Charles assigns to 134-94 b.c., Sheol appears to be synonymous with Hell. Probably this arises from the circumstance that in this section the writer (as so frequently in Judaism) thinks only of a resurrection of the righteous.2 [Note: The expectation of a universal resurrection seems to be taught distinctly, for the first time, in the Similitudes of Enoch (i.e., chaps. xxxvii.-lxx.); see especially chap. li. 1-3; and cf. xxxviii. 1, 6; xlv. 1-3; lxi. 5.] The wicked continue in the condition which they entered after death. That is a state of misery and condemnation. This writer, however, does not presuppose a temporary abode of the righteous in the place of woe. He possesses the conception, which appears repeatedly in Apocalyptic, of certain special chambers, designated in 4 Ezra promptuaria (e.g., 4:35, 41, 5:37, 7:32, 95), reserved for the righteous, where they are kept in peace until the final judgment. The same view is to be found in the Apocalypse of Baruch, chaps. xxi. 23, xxiv. 1, xxx. 2 (where see Charles’s notes). As an instance of the flexibility of eschatological ideas of Sheol (and the state after death) during the period under review, we may refer to the Slavonic Enoch,1 [Note: The book, which is held to be a product of Alexandrian Judaism (see Charles, Eschatology, pp. 251-253) departs at this point, in any case, from the ordinary position of Hellenistic Eschatology, which leaves no room for a doctrine of Sheol or an intermediate state, affirming that souls, at death, receive their final reward of blessedness or torment. But Bousset has given good ground for asserting that “a sharp distinction between Alexandrian and Palestinian eschatology does not exist” (Religion d. Judenthums, p. 260). In case the discussion in the text should create misconception, it ought to be noted that up to a late period in apocalyptic literature there are still traces to be found of the idea of a universal realm of the dead. See especially, Volz, Jüdische Eschatol., p. 289.] perhaps written in our Lord’s lifetime, in which, to begin with, a portion of the heavenly region is reserved as the place of final torture for the wicked (chap. x.). In a later passage, however, the writer speaks (chap. xl. 12) of seeing “the mighty Hell laid open” in the under-world, the Old Testament Sheol. Thus the earlier and later notions remain side by side in this apocalypse without reconciliation, a phenomenon which is characteristic of eschatological speculation. To sum up on our special question, it may be said with accuracy that the main current of apocalyptic literature ends by recognising two contrasted abodes for the righteous and the wicked. The one is Heaven (occasionally Paradise). The other is Gehenna (sometimes identified with Sheol). Our conclusion may seem, indeed, at variance with statements already made as to the hope of a purified theocracy, in which, after the destruction of all their stubborn heathen foes, God or His representative, the Messiah, should rule from Zion over a restored Israel and those Gentiles who had submitted to Israel’s dominion. That prospect shines forth clearly in the prophets. And there are many reflections of it in the earlier apocalyptic writings. But while, as truly national, it remains deeply rooted in the popular consciousness, another tendency of thought grows up beside it. This is the larger outlook, so noteworthy in Apocalyptic, which is occupied with the coming Æon of glory, as opposed to the present, with its depression and gloom. As the cleft between them becomes deeper, the hopes concerning the future grow ever more transcendent. No doubt we find them blended in strange and bewildering combinations in some of the writings of Judaism (see Volz, op. cit., p. 2). But gradually the more spiritual ideas press to the forefront. They fit in with the wider view of the world and its destiny which is forced upon the Jews by their contact with other civilisations. Finally the ultimate goal of the world-history assumes a far larger importance in the apocalyptic writings than the crowning destinies of Israel. The righteous and the sinners as such come to occupy as prominent a place as Israel and the heathen. A great extension of categories is manifest. The redemption of Israel is enlarged into the future bliss of the godly. God’s judgment upon the foes of the chosen nation becomes the universal judgment in which each individual receives the verdict of the Judge. Instead of a renewal of the Holy Land, a renovation of the world is proclaimed. Side by side with the doctrine of the permanence of the Messianic community stands that of the permanence of the individual, which finds its chief expression in the conception of the Resurrection. In this expectation of the new Æon, the coming blessedness assigned in the earlier period to Palestine and Jerusalem is associated with Heaven, the future dwelling-place of the saints of God. Of course, all the forces which will constitute the coming Æon are already in existence. The supra-mundane order of things and the heavenly world have existed from eternity. As yet that world is veiled, concealed. The main function of the Apocalypses is to penetrate its secrets, to unfold its mysteries. Hence the supra-mundane position of God, His transcendence, and that of all those conditions which await His servants, assert themselves with growing persistence in Apocalyptic. Sometimes it is difficult to determine how far the nationalistic hope preponderates, and how far the transcendental. In 4 Ezra, e.g., the national and universal Eschatologies are found in close conjunction. But the interesting phenomenon may be noted that the doctrine of Chiliasm, the earthly reign of Messiah for a thousand years, is, in its origin, due to the attempt to harmonise the earlier and the later groups of ideas. It is, as Gunkel tersely expresses it, “a compromise between the ancient hope of the prophets which belongs to this world, and the modern, Jewish transcendental hope” (on 4 Ezra 7:28, in Kautzsch). The intermediate, Messianic kingdom becomes the scene for the realisation of those earthly blessings so long held in prospect. The great Judgment and the Resurrection of the dead usher in the final epoch.1 [Note: See, e.g., Volz, op. cit., pp. 62-67.] Hence, when the world is spoken of within the circle of ideas occupied with the coming Æon, it is the world as renewed, the “new heaven and new earth.” In close correspondence with the widening cleft between the two types of eschatological expectation described above, and the growing predominance of the more spiritual conception of the new Æon (
We have seen how several psalmists passionately demand a continuance of fellowship with God in defiance of death. Probably their strongest expressions rather imply a miraculous deliverance from death than that which we mean by a resurrection. The idea may have assumed clearer shape under the pressure of the terrible experiences of persecution in the reign of Antiochus Epiphanes. In Isaiah 26:19 (belonging to a section of the book, chaps. 24-27, which most scholars hold to be post-exilic), there is a remarkable utterance, which forms a kind of link between the cravings of Job and the Psalms, and the developed theory of Judaism. Its expressions, indeed, are not isolated. The way has been prepared for them by imagery like that of Hosea 6:2, and (more emphatically) Ezekiel 37:1-28. Here, it seems to be the nation, returned to its desolated land, that is speaking. “Thy dead” (as if addressing the land) “shall live: my dead body shall arise. Awake and sing, ye that dwell in dust: for thy dew is a dew of lights, and the earth shall bring forth (to life) the shades.” This bold assertion is doubtless born of the conviction that God’s purpose for the remnant of His people is incomplete, if those who perished in the downfall of the nation, and those whose graves had been left behind in the land of exile, have no share in the final restoration. It is of great significance to trace the leadings of the Divine Spirit in the human consciousness towards the attainment of this remarkable resurrection-hope. It is the claim of the people upon their God. And that continues to be the dominant motive in the formation of the conception. After a further period of depression under the Seleucidæ, the Maccabæan rising, as we have noted, again kindles glad expectations. And the demand that those who have died as martyrs for their faith should not be excluded from the felicity of their people, takes this unique shape.
It is very difficult to make definite statements as to the precise scope of the Resurrection in the view of the apocalyptic writers. Professor Charles, whose authority in this department is universally acknowledged, affirms, in a note on Enoch li. 1, that “no Jewish book except 4 Ezra teaches indubitably the doctrine of a general resurrection, and this may be due to Christian influence.”1 [Note: Bousset boldly declares: “We ought at least to say that the Jewish conception of resurrection has developed under the influence of Eranian Apocalyptic into the universal conception of a general resurrection and the world-judgment” (Religion d. Judenthums, p. 480). In our judgment, this statement can neither be affirmed nor denied. For lack of sufficient evidence, the question must be left open. But we are inclined to agree with Söderblom (La Vie Future d’après le Mazdéisme, pp. 316-318) in holding that such a hypothesis is not necessary. There are elements, that is to say, in Judaism itself, containing the germs of the development in question. The conception of a final transcendent Divine retribution for the individual, combined with the earlier prophetic idea of the Messianic judgment, as it must often have been, would necessarily give rise to the picture of the world-judgment, in which the ultimate fates of men are decided. With a view to this event, there must be a universal resurrection.] “The whole history of Jewish thought,” he asserts, “points in an opposite direction.” No doubt there is much truth in the latter statement, but, unless we are permitted to read a great deal between the lines, it is precarious to dogmatise upon the question. Dr Charles himself admits that a resurrection of all Israel is assumed, e.g., in Daniel 12:2; Enoch 37-70, 83-90, etc.; 2Ma 7:1-42; 2Ma 12:43-44; Apoc. Bar. l.-li. 6 (see his notes on Enoch li. 1). If that be so (although we are not quite convinced of it), it will require great caution to distinguish in several of the places quoted between a general and an Israelitish resurrection. But it may be frankly acknowledged that the more comprehensive view was, at least, very limited. Many passages plainly pre-suppose that only the God-fearing will enjoy the high privilege of resurrection. That is to be expected, when we recall the religious basis of the doctrine. And it is natural that members of the chosen community should exhaust the category of the righteous, as, for the writers of that period, in the narrowest sense, salvation was of the Jews. As examples of the restriction in question, we may quote Psalms of Solomon 3:13-16: “The destruction of the sinner is for ever, and he shall not be remembered when He (i.e. God) visiteth the righteous; this portion of the sinner is for ever. But they that fear the Lord shall rise to everlasting life, and their life shall no more fail in the light of the Lord” (cf. 14:6, 15:15); Apoc. Bar. xxx.: “And it shall come to pass after these things, when the time of the advent of the Messiah is fulfilled, and He shall return in glory (i.e. to heaven, so Charles, Ryssel), then all who have fallen asleep in the hope of Him shall rise again. And it shall come to pass at that time that the treasuries shall be opened in which is preserved the number of the souls of the righteous, and they shall come forth.… But the souls of the wicked, when they behold all those things, shall then waste away the more. For they shall know that their torment has come and their perdition has arrived.” So Josephus, Ant., xviii. 1 (3), in describing the views of the Pharisees, states that they hold that for evil souls “an eternal prison is appointed” (
We have attempted very briefly to trace the main developments of eschatological doctrine in the thought of Judaism as the immediate background and environment of St Paul’s mental life. Perhaps enough has been said to indicate the nature of the conceptions with which the apostle, from his earliest days, must have been more or less familiar. It ought not to be difficult, when we are dealing with his separate eschatological ideas, to discover approximately how far he accepted and how far he modified the traditional theories of his nation. But we must now turn to that factor whose influence was supreme in shaping the eschatological as well as every other element in his religious thought, his personal Christian experience.2 [Note: Holtzmann puts the truth expressively when he says: “It (i.e., St Paul’s entire system of doctrine, Lehrbegriff) … simply means the exposition of the content of his conversion, the systematising of the Christophany” (N.T. Theol., ii. p. 205).] Here we are concerned with one of those mysterious problems which really elude matter-of-fact discussion. The conversion of St Paul has a place among the most remarkable events in all spiritual history. Numerous and ingenious attempts have been made to minimise its significance, or, at least, to account for it on purely natural grounds. Great stress, for example, has been laid upon the psychological preparation of Saul the Pharisee.3 [Note: See, especially, Holsten’s acute discussion, Die Christus vision d. Paulus in his Zum Evangelium d. Paulus u. Petrus, pp. 2-114.] The process is conceived on some such lines as these. In the heat of Saul’s persecuting zeal his mind has been disturbed. Probably before now he has been tormented, at times, by the consciousness of failure perfectly to keep the Divine law. And thus he is often uncertain as to his standing before God. He cannot help contrasting the calm confidence and heroism of the followers of the crucified Nazarene with his own experiences of inward turmoil. Their demeanour, their spirit, the triumphant loyalty which does not quail even before death-these things leave an overpowering impression on his ardent and sensitive nature. He envies them their firm assurance. It has something unique, something superhuman about it. His opposing faith begins to tremble. He has gained a partial knowledge of the history and claims of Jesus from the preaching of the apostles. As he reflects on these elements in the Christian Gospel, and compares them with the predictions of the Old Testament, he becomes inwardly less and less positive concerning his own legal status. At length the crisis comes, when his whole being has been wrought up to high nervous tension by the scheme he has undertaken-a scheme by which he strives to hide from himself the doubts which torture him. “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me?” The voice is the echo of his surging thought and feeling. But it attaches itself to the image of that Figure which haunts him night and day. He can hold out no longer. The Crucified has conquered. No doubt there is a measure of truth in such hypotheses. We cannot conceive a nature like that of St Paul remaining indifferent to the evidences of Christian certainty of which he was so frequently a witness. Not only so, but the very words reported in the narrative of his conversion, “It is hard for thee to kick against the goads,” are full of significance. They show that deep misgivings concerning his religious position were asserting themselves in his inmost soul. Plainly (and this is borne out by passages, e.g., like Romans 7:1-25) the painful conviction was pressing itself upon him, that by the deeds of the law no flesh is justified. And his whole nature craved a right standing before God. The very fact that he had to defend his position against a honeycombing doubt, would urge him forward more fiercely than ever as a champion of Judaism. But there is no evidence to prove that he suspected the real truth to lie in the direction of the new sect of the Nazarenes. Their position was a blasphemy against God. Their so-called Messiah had been crucified as a common criminal. What insolence to see in him the culmination of God’s revelation to His people! St Paul had been nurtured on the Messianic Hope of Israel. What a caricature was this of the glorious fulfilment for which devout Jews had yearned!1 [Note: Beyschlag supposes that St Paul’s antipathy to the claims of Jesus did not rest on the fact of His shameful death (seeDeuteronomy 21:23: “He that is hanged is the curse of God,” applied by St Paul to Christ inGalatians 3:13), but was the result of their opposite conceptions of
Then his life was suddenly cleft in twain. It would be absurd to look for a perfectly clear or detailed account of an experience like this. The immediate effect of it, both on the mind and the whole sensory system, would be far too overwhelming to admit of any explicit analysis of the circumstances. But the accounts in Acts seem to show a remarkable agreement with the brief references in the Pauline Epistles. The definite points are these. In 1 Corinthians 15:8 he makes no distinction between his own “sight” of Jesus and that of the other apostles to whom He showed Himself after His resurrection:
Although there are some variations in the separate accounts of the occurrence as given in Acts, these do not touch the central phenomena in the experience. The following facts, at least, stand out in clear relief. (a) A great light from heaven suddenly shone round about the traveller, as he journeyed. (b) From the shock of this dazzling appearance, Saul falls prostrate on the ground. (c) He hears a voice, which he discovers to be that of Jesus, speaking to him in words which he can understand. The divergences in the narratives relate to his companions. It is easy to realise how vague and conflicting reports of their impressions of the event would speedily circulate. In the case of so unique and mysterious a phenomenon, we have no criteria whereby to estimate their situation. They saw (
We believe that the apostle arrived at his conception of the resurrection-body, the spiritual organism, by reflection on this amazing event in his personal history. He was convinced that he had met Jesus, and by some marvellous method the risen Lord had impressed upon him His own objective reality. It was not a mere inward thrill of his soul, as under some hidden, spiritual influence. It was the stamp of a personal revelation which was left upon him. It was the same kind of revelation, in his judgment, as that made to Simon Peter and John and the rest, after the Resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:4-8). Plainly, they were thoroughly conscious of a “bodily” presence, and yet it was quite distinct from His former state, for now He was raised above the ordinary conditions of a material organism.1 [Note: See some suggestive thoughts in Westcott, Revelation of the Risen Lord, p. 68; and cf. Forrest, Christ of History, p. 153: “The temporary union in Him (i.e. the Risen Christ) of two diverse modes of being will not seem strange to us, if we realise that only by this means could God assure us that the redemption of Christ was no less the rectification of the material than of the spiritual universe. Yet it is precisely such an assurance that is needed to give religious faith a final basis and guarantee, by showing that it cannot be explained as a psychical hallucination.”] He could manifest Himself when the doors were shut. He could vanish from their sight in a moment. St Paul believed his experience to be in line with theirs. Does it not seem probable, therefore, that he formulated his doctrine of a spiritual “body” as a direct inference from his wonderful contact with the
We are also inclined to suppose that the circumstances of St Paul’s experience of the risen Christ on the Damascus road helped to contribute certain pictorial elements, if we may so call them, to his conception of the future glorified life. His conception of
But, before leaving the present phase of our inquiry, there is a further subdivision of the Formative Influences in St Paul’s conceptions of the Last Things which we must very briefly notice: the Christian tradition of the eschatological teaching of Jesus. To discuss this difficult subject with any degree of fulness, would require a separate volume. It must suffice for our purpose to endeavour to trace in a few sentences the fundamental parallels between the thought of the Master and that of His apostle. Both of them make large use of the terms and ideas current in their time. Both lay the basis of their Eschatology in the Old Testament revelation. Both of them employ as their formal starting-point the hopes which possessed the hearts of their fellow-countrymen. The background and environment of the eschatological teaching of Jesus, as of Paul, have been outlined in the former part of this chapter. It remains simply to recognise those transformations of Jewish Eschatology wrought by Jesus, which Paul assumes as axioms in representing the Last Things both to himself and to his readers.
It is quite self-evident that, after his conversion, St Paul must have gone back to the teaching of Jesus as authoritative for the Christian Church. While the glorified Christ who had appeared to him would always remain the predominantly normative factor for his religious thought,1 [Note: For the subordination of interest in the detailed sayings of Jesus and the events of His earthly life to that in the crucified and risen Messiah, in the early Apostolic Age, see the remarkable essay of Von Soden, Das Interesse d. apostol. Zeitalters an der evangel. Geschichte in Theolog. Abhandlungen C. v. Weizsäcker gewidmet, pp. 113-169 (Freiburg i. B., 1892).] we can easily conceive with what eagerness the apostle, in the light of his new and wonderful experiences, would inquire into the actual views of God and the world which the Master had set forth in His earthly career. That through converse with the Twelve and others he became acquainted with these, is plain from the background of his thinking throughout the Epistles. The intimate relation of his doctrine to that of Jesus is sometimes ignored because it does not always appear upon the surface. But a deeper penetration reveals a remarkable kinship of spiritual ideas. Comparatively often he directly refers to words of Jesus.2 [Note: See Titius, pp. 11, 12.] And these references are, no doubt, merely a sample of his practice in his oral instruction. Numerous important parallels to the sayings of Jesus may be noted in his ethical teaching.1 [Note: See Titius, pp. 13-15; cf. Von Soden, op. cit., pp. 127-129.] But more important than these, which may often be accidental, is the common basis of their central religious conceptions. We can only call attention to those which seem most decisive for Eschatology. We shall have occasion to show in a subsequent chapter how, in what may be called the more “pictorial” conceptions of the Last Things, Jesus, as well as His apostles, used the current imagery of His time, an imagery which had descended from the prophets, and was extended, often in grotesque directions, by the apocalyptic writers, to set forth the great crises of the future, the Parousia and the Judgment. He spoke with absolute conviction of His own coming, His personal intervention in the consummation of all things. He proclaimed His place as Judge in the final decision of human destinies. To express these momentous facts, He employed the only kind of terms which would convey the lessons He sought to enforce upon His hearers. As will be clearly seen at a later stage, St Paul was very directly influenced by the tradition of Jesus’ teaching concerning the Parousia and Judgment. For the same pictures appear in the Epistles, and the same elements in the situation are emphasised. For the Parousia, we may quote the following parallels:2 [Note: See Titius, pp. 15, 16.]Mark 14:62 = Romans 13:11 ff.; Matthew 24:19 ff. = 1 Thessalonians 3:4; 1 Corinthians 7:26; 1 Corinthians 7:28 (preparatory woes); Matthew 24:43 = 1 Thessalonians 5:2; Matthew 24:31 = 1 Thessalonians 4:15 ff.; Matthew 24:42 = 1 Thessalonians 5:6 f. On the Judgment, the following are noteworthy: Matthew 25:31-32 = 2 Corinthians 5:10; Matthew 19:28 = 1 Corinthians 6:2; Mark 12:36 = 1 Corinthians 15:25. But more decisive for St Paul’s relation to the teaching of Jesus are the deeper elements of his eschatological thought. Two of these we would emphasise: his conceptions of the basis of the Future Life and the nature of the Future Life.
Again and again Jesus uses the term “Life” (
St Paul is also in harmony with his Master on the all-important question of the nature of the Future Life. Here again we must refer to our Lord’s discussion with the Sadducees. In a single sentence He describes the condition of the risen. “When they rise from the dead they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in heaven” (Mark 12:25). In Luke it is given in the following form: “The sons of this age marry and are given in marriage, but those accounted worthy to attain that (coming) age and the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage: nor can they any more die, for they are like the angels (
We have attempted no more than a bare outline of the close kinship between Jesus and Paul as that can be traced in the two basal conceptions of their eschatological teaching. Frequent occasions will occur in subsequent chapters of pointing out the influence of the Master on the apostle.