Brian Hamilton

Eschatological Unity: Common Hope as a Path to Reconciliation

In our troubled times, like most other times, many have found joy and excitement in announcing the beginning of the end. Tabloids scream constantly of the imminent apocalypse, pointing to world catastrophes as proof, and overly-romanticized versions of the Christian end-times top American best-seller lists. In the face of all this, not to mention the lasting effects of a thoroughly ‘modern’ nation, much of the religious academy has developed an unfortunate distaste for honest eschatology. But if we desire to take our scriptures seriously, we must pay close attention to God’s promises for the future. While Jews and Christians of the most sincere sort can find much to disagree on, one cannot help but notice that their zeal shares a common root in eschatological hope. In our hope for a transformed society, a transformed person, and a transformed world, we find the grace to rejoice in our present sufferings. Since our scriptures are replete with divine promises of the age to come, Jews and Christians can come together in unity, shouting praises to the God of Israel, knowing that he will deliver us.

Eschatology has recently regained some well-deserved centrality in Christian thought; Jews, historically, have been better able to remember the hope they live for. While each tradition has given eschatology plenty of attention within itself, our intention here is to use that which we hope for as a bridge—if Christianity and Judaism share a common vision of the future, and are divinely charged with a similar response, we cannot help but join hands and sing. We will first walk through the divine promises of transformation—of human society, of the human person, and of nature (an outline which I owe to Donald Gowan)—guided by both Jewish and Christian scriptures. Then, we will examine our common response to such hope as demonstrated by the Servant of Isaiah 53, and in a call to interfaith unity.

First, we must clarify what we mean by eschatology. Eschatology is the study of the end-times—specifically, how things will be once God’s plan of salvation is fully effected. Christianity has tended to make salvation a purely spiritual event, unconcerned with physical matters. In contrast, the biblical meaning of salvation refers almost exclusively to deliverance and release from physical, material, social, and political bondage, both in the Christian and Hebrew bibles (Yoder). In describing different aspects of eschatological hope, most of our time will be spent describing the physical state of the coming age. The Christian witness diverges from the Jewish not in what we are being delivered from, but in our placement along the eschatological time line: Christian salvation is spoken of as simultaneously a past, present, and future event (cf. Rom. 5:10, 2 Cor. 2:15, and 1 Cor. 15:2 respectively). Even while attempting to unearth our common vision, we must note that these added dimensions of salvation form the core difference between Jewish and Christian eschatology. For the Christian, the Kingdom of God—that is, the place where the salvific vision is made manifest—has already permeated this world in a very real sense, and continues to gain a foothold in a faithful Church. No longer do all the events of the eschaton lie in the future; in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, we have seen the beginning of the end. Because of this, we will often need to look at Jesus’ actions to provide our vision of Christian eschatology—the Christian end-times consist largely in Jesus’ work coming to complete fruition.

The Jewish and Christian Eschatological Vision

Unfortunately, we must begin our study of the Jewish and Christian eschatological vision with the most painful part: punishment. The Tanakh and New Testament alike make no mistake that even the faithful will suffer. The pre-exilic prophets are particularly clear on this point—Amos calls the Day of the Lord “darkness, not light; / as if someone fled from a lion, / and was met by a bear” (5:8, NRSV always used; cf. 5:16-17; 8:10; Zeph. 1:15-16). Israel must suffer much before ultimate salvation can come. But the suffering is not an end in itself; Yahweh does not punish for punishment’s sake. Indeed, only a few chapters after Zephaniah calls the day of the Lord “a day or ruin and devastation” (1:15), he calls on his listeners to “Sing aloud O daughter Zion; / shout, O Israel! / Rejoice and exult with all your heart, / O daughter Jerusalem! / The Lord has taken away / the judgments against you, / he has turned away your enemies. / The king of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst; / you shall fear disaster no more” (3:14-15). Though placed on a different foundation, the Christian scriptures follow largely the same pattern in their themes of persecution and the way of the Cross. While this suffering is not explicitly divine punishment, it is thought to represent “active participation in Christ’s own suffering and death, and as belonging to the important and inevitable sufferings of the messianic age” (Chester 322). Instead of a vertical punishment as seen in ancient Israel, Christians accept their suffering as a natural result of of their own complicity in the human system of sin, that system which killed their Christ. In this way, by enduring their own suffering joyfully, Christians bear Christ’s punishment along with him. In fact, imitating Christ’s suffering seems to be both desirable (1 Pet. 2:20; 3:14-18; 4:12-16) and necessary (Luke 14:27-33) for the Christian life. 1 Peter delves deeper into the ethical implications of Christian eschatology, in charging the reader to rejoice in suffering, so that their faith may be proved genuine (1:5-9). The author speaks of the suffering as a refiner’s fire, recalling Tanakh references to God’s presence as one that burns away impurities (Malachi 3:2).

But while Jews and Christians suffer together now, we need not focus on suffering, for God has promised that he will one day thoroughly transform this world. We begin by focusing on God’s promises for the transformation of human society. Before the exile, Zion and Jerusalem had found central places in the hearts of the Israelites—Zion embodied their hope, while Jerusalem stood as the invincible city. Even when Jerusalem fell and the Israelites were sent into exile, their hope in Zion did not fade. “Instead of repudiating Zion theology, exilic Judaism had corrected it, had eschatologized it, had found a way to take account of judgment and to express their hope for a divinely accomplished future that would take all they had once believed to be a present-tense truth about Jerusalem and make that, and more, come true in the days that are coming” (Gowan 8-9). The post-exilic prophets brought promises of Israel’s restoration, with God saying, “I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil” (Ezek. 37:14). What’s more, God promises that “nation shall not lift up sword against nation, / neither shall they learn war any more” (Isaiah 2:2). Thus human society is transformed: Israel is restored, all nations come under the rule of God, and the ways of violence are forgotten.

Of course, in speaking of the prophetic restoration of the Jewish people to their homeland, we cannot overlook the current controversy over when and how that is going to take place. Jewish opinion spans a wide range, giving rise to both political complacency (for the restoration is entirely eschatological) and political terrorism (for the Jews have a God-given responsibility to effect that restoration). Without entering into that debate, it suffices to affirm that an integral part of the Jewish homecoming remains wholly in the future, remembering Jeremiah’s words:

“Therefore, behold, the days are coming,” says the Lord, “when it shall no longer be said ‘As the Lord lives who brought up the people of Israel out of the land of Egypt,’ but, ‘As the Lord lives who brought up the people of Israel out of the north country and out of all the countries where he had driven them.’ For I will bring them back to their own land which I gave to their fathers.” (Jer. 16:14-15)

Here we are given a test: so long as Judaism celebrates the exodus as its constitutive event, the final homecoming remains in the future.

While Christianity has chosen to focus its energies on individual redemption, the New Testament witness makes it clear that the Christian notion of ultimate salvation, like the Jewish notion, is also a corporate redemption. Since Christian ideas of redemption are not restricted to any particular nation, societal transformation is made manifest in the Church, or the Body of Christ, and the promise that one day this body will be wholly transformed. We need not elaborate too much on political nature of Jesus’ life and mission; the degree of the threat perceived by the Roman and Jewish authorities makes Jesus’ social relevance sufficiently clear. But if we were to take the time, biblical evidence would reinforce the same. We could not ignore the explicitly political nature of Mary singing of bringing “down the powerful / from their thrones” (Luke 1:52); we could not ignore the connection between the charge that “You are my Son, the Beloved” and the immediate beginning of Jesus’ ministry to the poor and oppressed (Luke 3:22); we could not ignore that the tempter’s suggestions are not solely miraculous, but economic and political (Luke 4:1-13); we could not ignore Jesus’ first sermon, where he declares himself the anointed one who will “let the oppressed go free” (Luke 4:18). And these are but brief mentions of more fully developed political ideas, and only in the first four chapters of Luke! If we were to continue (as John H. Yoder has in The Politics of Jesus), we would find, in the end, that little of Jesus’ life did not have direct political significance or effect—again, evidenced by the urgency of his crucifixion. But the New Testament does not go without repeating promises of the New Jerusalem (Rev. 21:2); the tribes of Israel are distinguished even in Christian hope (Rev. 7:4).

While human transformation is doubtlessly less crucial for Jews, for whom the Sinai covenant still provides a path to moral rectification, Christians and Jews alike can anticipate the day when the human person will be wholly transformed, when all will be righteous and all will worship the Lord. It is difficult even to separate Jewish and Christian hope for the transformed person—the New Testament often quotes the Tanakh directly, citing Jesus as having made fulfillment possible. Judaism, like Christianity, includes the complete forgiveness of humanity as part of its eschatological vision. Jeremiah brings the promise, “For I will forgive their wickedness / and will remember their sins no more” (31:34; cf. Heb. 8:12). Earlier in the same passage, God promises a renewal of the heart (31:33; cf. Heb. 8:10). The heart draws quite a bit of attention from the Tanakh prophets; Ezekiel explains that God “a new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will within you” (36:26), and Jeremiah agrees: “I will give them a heart to know that I am the Lord; and they shall be my people and I will be their God” (24:7). It is important to note that in biblical thought, the heart is not the seat of emotions, but of wisdom (Ps. 51:6; Prov. 2:2:; 10:8; 16:21), memory (Isa. 65:17) and moral decisions (Prov. 26:24; Ps. 40:8).

Finally, we turn our focus to the promise of a transformed creation. Even initially, the ground is cursed for humanity’s sins (Gen. 3:17-19), and the Tanakh maintains throughout that the ethical faux pas of humanity have a direct impact on earth’s ecological system (e.g. Lev. 26:3-4, 6; Deut. 28:4-5, 8, 11-12). But if lack of adequate food and water aren’t enough evidence of the need for natural transformation, it is worth noting that in the beginning, all creatures were vegetarian (Gen. 1:29-30). It was only after the fall and flood that God gave them the right to kill and eat meat (Gen. 9:3-4)—while it is permitted by God, eating meat seems to be the result of life in a fallen world. The expected transformation of the physical world in the Hebrew Bible, on which Christians also rely almost exclusively here, is at least twofold: God will bring about a renewal of fertility (Ezek. 36:8-9, 11, 29-30, 34-35), including in the deserts (Isaiah 43:20), and there will be peace among all creation, including animals (Isaiah 11:6-9). The New Testament affirms this generally, without specifics, explaining that “creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God” (Romans 8:21). Colossians 1:19-20 echoes a similar theme, explaining that God, through Jesus, was pleased to “reconcile all things to himself, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.”

An Eschatological Response

We have seen the remarkable similarity in the hope of Jews and Christians—how, then, should we respond? Isaiah 53 serves a challenging biblical response, but neither can we walk away without being unified in purpose with our Jewish and Christian brothers and sisters. Historically, with particular vigor since the early 1800’s, Jewish scholars have interpreted Isaiah 53’s Suffering Servant as “Israel in the moment of redemption,” simultaneously saving itself and the world through faithful suffering (Herbert 13). The passage has incited much debate between Jews and Christians over the identity of the Servant, usually forcing both sides to isolate a single entity as the subject. In this author’s opinion, Christians would do well to recognize that the Servant is indeed Israel, as it is indeed the Church, and neither of these claims precludes a Christocentric interpretation. There are legitimate challenges to restricting the definition of the Servant to Israel, since Messianic expectation and eschatological hope are explicit themes of the Servant Songs (46:13, 43:10)—but this is not our focus here. Instead, we make use of the basic outline of the passage: a servant who suffers, but is, in the end, redeemed for obedience. In the Servant, from both a Jewish and a Christian perspective, we find the proper response to God’s eschatological promise: “a devotion to God…so complete that concern for personal comfort and gain [is] eclipsed by the desire to serve” (Hanson 159). Viewed thusly, it becomes less important whether this specific Servant is Elijah, or Israel, or Jesus, or the Church—we remember only that the Servant, and those who act likewise, will be redeemed. Having already seen that Jews and Christians share a common eschatological hope, the Servant of Isaiah 53 demonstrates a shared response to that hope.

As we study the divinely-inspired hope that so empowers us, as we come closer to relying wholly on the joy that is found in that hope, the visible differences between Jew and Christian will melt away. Those who strive for something so similar cannot help but be united in the journey. Indeed, should Jewish and Christian brothers and sisters find the grace and compassion to work together in the context of their shared vision, despite their differences, the world might never be the same. As we bring God’s prophetic message to the world, we pave the way for transformation of the society and the human person right now, in our own lives and for our children. May God be with us as we strive to live in hope of the future he has revealed.

Works Cited

• Blenksinsopp, Joseph. Isaiah 40-55. The Anchor Bible. New York: Doubleday, 2002. Vol. 19A.
• Chester, Andrew. “Salvation in Christian Thought.” In The Biblical World. Barton, John, ed. New York: Routledge, 2002. 317-329.
• Cohn-Sherbok, Dan. “Salvation in Jewish Thought.” In The Biblical World. Barton, John, ed. New York: Routledge, 2002. 287-316.
• Gowan, Donald E. _Eschatology in the Old Testament. _Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986.
• Hanson, Paul D. Isaiah 40-66. Interpretation. Mays, James Luther; Patrick D. Miller; and Paul J. Achtemeier, eds. Louisville: John Knox Press, 1971.
• Herbert, A.S. The Book of the Prophet Isaiah: 40-66. The Cambridge Bible Commentary. Ackroyd, P.R.; A.R.C Loeney, and J.W. Packer, eds. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975.
• Yoder, Perry. Shalom. Nappanee, Indiana: Evangel Publishing House, 1987.

10 November 2004 |
tags: Ecumenism