Year: 2013 (Page 7 of 14)

Early Jewish Attitudes Toward Images

July 29, 2013 / Robert Arakaki / 33 Comments

Book Review: Early Christian Attitudes toward Images by Steven Bigham (2 of 4)

This blog posting is a continuation of an earlier review of Fr. Steven Bigham’s book. In this posting I will be reviewing and interacting with Bigham’s arguments in Chapter 2.

Chapter 2 examines early Jewish attitudes toward images. This is important because modern Protestant iconoclasm assumes that the early Christians inherited from the Jews a hostile attitude towards images. However, if it can be shown that there existed an open attitude toward images among early Jews then the basis for the hostility theory becomes problematic.

Steven Bigham notes that a distinction needs to be drawn between figurative art and pagan idols. He presents Jean-Baptiste Frey’s theory that an alternation took place between a rigorist and less rigorous interpretations of the Second Commandment (pp. 22-23). This challenges the implicit assumption that Jewish opposition to images to be fixed and unchanging. This new approach allows for more flexible readings of the biblical, rabbinical, and historical data. It is suggested that a liberal attitude towards images existed from the period of monarchy to the exile, then a rigorist attitude from the restoration to the Hellenistic period. Later, an accepting attitude was found among the Amoraïm, the successors to the Pharisees.

Biblical Evidences

In sub-section 3 (pp. 22-32), Bigham reviews the biblical evidence for the use of art and images in Israelite worship: Exodus, Numbers, 1 Kings, Ezekiel, and Ecclesiasticus. In considering the Old Testament evidence, Bigham excludes passages relating to pagan idolatry and examines passages pertaining to Israelite worship (p. 26).

The Tabernacle in Exodus

Tabernacle in Exodus

Bigham finds it significant that Exodus which contained the Second Commandment (Exodus 20:2-6) also contained divine instructions for the construction of the golden cherubim over the Ark of the Testimony (Exodus 25:1-22), as well as the manufacture of curtains embroidered with cherubim (Exodus 26:1, 31). Bigham notes,

Placed so close to God himself and so intimately linked with the worship of the true God, the cherubim could never be separated from that worship and become themselves the object of misdirected, idolatrous worship. The cherubim on the Ark of the Testimony are a real problem for the advocates of rigorism, because God himself ordered Moses to have them made. The untenable contradiction in the divine commands disappears if we assume a relative interpretation of the 2^nd Commandment that allows for non-idolatrous, liturgical images (p. 26).

All too often Protestant iconoclasm has equated idolatry with images, but this is too simplistic a definition. In his examination of the passage on the bronze serpent, Bigham notes that a sculpted image can be used in a non-idolatrous way. In response to the poisonous snakes sent to punish the Israelites, God ordered the making of a bronze serpent as a means of healing (Numbers 21:4-9). Later, King Hezekiah destroyed the serpent because the Israelites had begun to misuse it (2 Kings 18:1-4). Bigham notes:

This episode shows how an object, an image, normally not considered to be a idol, can become one. Idolatry is determined by a person’s intention and attitude toward an image, and not by the image itself (p. 27; emphasis added).

What Bigham has done here is to clarify the difference between religious art and idolatry. Furthermore, he has resolved an apparent contradiction in the Old Testament. His contextual understanding of the Old Testament passages avoids the difficulties caused by the more rigorist interpretations of the Second Commandment which would clash with subsequent passages that mandate the making of religious art.

In doing so, Bigham has rendered a tremendous service to Reformed-Orthodox dialogue. In any conversation on the Second Commandment and the proper role of images in worship, it is important that a balanced and biblically based definition of idolatry be established at the outset. If the two sides start from disparate definitions, the conversation will go nowhere. One question for the Reformed Christians and Evangelicals to consider is whether Bigham’s understanding is both biblical and balanced. If not, then they should put forward an alternative definition for the Orthodox to consider.

Solomon’s Temple

Bigham describes Solomon’s Temple in 1 Kings to be “a veritable art gallery and a nightmare for the advocates of the rigorist interpretation” (p. 28). King Solomon did not just replicate the Mosaic Tabernacle, but expanded and elaborated on the religious art work in connection with the worship of Yahweh. He had two enormous cherubim sculpted out of wood and overlaid with gold (1 Kings 6:23-28).

Interior of Solomon’s Temple

Solomon also had cherubim, palm trees, and open flowers carved on all the Temple walls and on the door to the Holy of Holies (1 Kings 6:29-31). Solomon made a molten sea which was placed over twelve statues of bulls (1 Kings 7:23-26). Furthermore, Solomon ordered the making of movable stands on which were carvings not just of cherubim, but also of lions and bulls (1 Kings 7:27-37).

The laudatory tone with which Solomon’s construction of the Temple for Yahweh was presented and the absence of any criticism makes 1 Kings quite problematic for those who hold to the iconoclastic position.

Solomon’s throne likewise was a huge work of art comprised of ascending steps with sculpted lions on both sides of each step leading to the throne (1 Kings 10:18-20). While less holy than the Temple, the throne was nonetheless the seat of the Lord’s anointed. This biblical passage points to an acceptance of images beyond the Temple into “secular” domains.

The favorable attitude among Jews continued into the post-exilic period. Bigham found in I Maccabees 1:22 and 4:57 evidence that the front of the Second Temple (520-515 BC) had been decorated with gold.

Ezekiel’s vision of the restored Temple continues the favorable attitude towards the use of images. As a prophecy it is significant because it extends the orthodoxy of religious images from the Mosaic Tabernacle of the past into the future worship of the Messianic Age, i.e., the Christian era. What is astounding is the profusion of images in Ezekiel’s future temple.

As far as the nearby wall of the inner and outer courts and along upon the wall all around within and without were depicted cherubim and palm trees, between cherub and cherub. Each cherub had two faces, the face of a man toward a palm tree on one side, and the face of a lion toward a palm tree on the other side. Thus it was depicted throughout the house all around. From the floor to the threshold, the cherubim and the palm trees were interspersed upon the walls (Ezekiel 41:17-20; OSB).

Taken together, the combined witness of passages across the Old Testament–from the time of Moses, the royal kingdom, and the prophetic tradition–presents an immense challenge to those who hold to the rigorist interpretation of the Second Commandment which disallows any and all forms of images in connection with the worship of Yahweh.

Non-Religious Images

In sub-section 5 (pp. 34-41), Bigham notes that additional evidence in support of Jewish tolerance or acceptance of images can be found in coins decorated with symbols like wreaths, horns of plenty, palms, cups and amphorae. It seems that these were accepted by Jewish authorities and rabbis. Similarly, Bigham found in Josephus’ The Antiquity of the Jews evidence that a certain prominent Jew, Hyrcanus, built a castle decorated with animals engraved on its walls (Bigham p. 37).

Angel on Jewish Sacrophagus – Beth Shearim

Detail of Sarcophagus at Beth Shearim, Israel. Source

Carving of Lioness on Hyrcanus Palace

Josephus and Philo

In sub-section 6 (pp. 41-66), Bigham examines the evidence used to support the notion that first century Judaism prohibited “images of animate beings” on the basis of the Jewish Law. Two early sources, Josephus and Philo, have been used to bolster the claim that first century Judaism was by and large iconophobic. Bigham notes that behind this iconophobia was hostility to symbols of Roman rule. In other words the first century rigorist reading of the Second Commandment may be rooted just as much in politics as in religion (p. 44). Josephus in his Antiquities XVIII, III, 1, explained that Jewish opposition to the Romans display of the emperor’s image on military standards was due to the Second Commandment. However, Bigham notes:

We can also see Josephus’s motivation for painting the incident in religious, rather than its obvious political colors: The Roman authorities for whom Josephus wrote would be less offended by an insult to the emperor’s image based on the Jews’ well-known sensitivity in religious matters. In any case, Josephus’s presentation of the Law – “our law forbids us the very making of images” – is simply wrong since previous and subsequent Jewish history shows that such images were made and accepted under certain conditions (p. 45).

Recent Archaeological Discoveries

Dura Europos Synagogue. Source

In sub-section 7 (pp. 66-78), Father Bigham devotes several pages (pp. 66-70) to the archaeologists’ discovery of the Jewish synagogue in Dura Europos in 1932. Its complete burial allowed it to be preserved virtually intact. Due to the widespread assumption at the time that early Judaism was aniconic, the building was initially mistaken for a Greek temple.

Image of Baby Moses – Dura Europos Synagogue. Source

The Dura Europos synagogue has profoundly challenged many misconceptions of early Jewish worship. The Dura Europos synagogue was not an isolated exception; other ancient synagogues had figurative arts (p. 67).

Moses and Burning Bush – Dura Europos. Source

The Binding of Isaac – Beth Alpha. Source

Mosaic at Beth Alpha

This leads Bigham to write:

… it seems increasingly clear that Judaism led the way in developing figurative art and that Christianity followed, at least at the beginning. We have already seen that this hypothesis is upheld by many scholars. Even in areas other than art, we see the same phenomenon: early Christianity often modeled itself on its Jewish parent. “For the ancestry of most elements of early church worship, we must look to the synagogue rather than the home … (C. Filson)” (Bigham p. 68)

These archaeological evidences present serious problems for those who hold to the hostility theory, especially on the assumption that early Judaism was uniformly aniconic and iconophobic (Bigham p. 89). However, if first century Judaism accepted religious art, then it makes sense that the early Christianity reflected its Jewish roots. It can then be argued that it is the iconoclastic hostility theory that represents an alien intrusion into Christian history. The hostility theory was easy to uphold when the evidence was buried in the ground but when archaeological discoveries over the past century unearth these evidences that theory lost its foundation.

Religious Art in Early Jewish Synagogues

In addition to the startling discoveries at Dura Europos, there are other evidence of religious art in Jewish synagogues.

Zodiac – Synagogue Mosaic on Mt. Carmel. Source

The zodiac mosaic at Beth Alpha was not an isolated example. Other similar zodiacs have been found in Israel, e.g., Hammath Tiberias on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, Naaran near Jericho, Sepphoris slightly north of Nazareth, En Gedi by the Dead Sea, and Huseifa near Mt. Carmel.

Religious Art in Medieval Judaism

Torah Shrine – Butzian Synagogue in Cracow, Poland

An examination of religious art in medieval Judaism shows an attitude more accepting of religious art than that found in the Reformed tradition. One example is the carving of images on the ark in the Butzian Synagogue in Cracow, Poland.

Findings and Conclusion

Fr. Steven Bigham has conducted a wide ranging review of evidence about early Jewish attitudes toward images. The evidences include both biblical and extra-biblical sources, as well as secular literary sources and archaeological evidences. Bigham notes that the evidence is not conclusive, but it does call into question the assumption that early Judaism was uniformly and rigidly opposed to images. Early Jewish acceptance of images even in the context of synagogue worship lays the historical basis for the acceptance of images in early Christian worship.

Robert Arakaki

See also: “The Biblical Basis for Icons“

Clearing the Way for Reformed-Orthodox Dialogue on Icons

July 23, 2013 / Robert Arakaki / 6 Comments

Book Review: Early Christian Attitudes toward Images by Steven Bigham (1 of 4)

In recent years icons have become a matter of public debate among Protestants and Evangelicals, and Orthodox Christians. Where in the past Protestants thought of icons as an Orthodox peculiarity or a quaint dispute quickly passed over in church history class, they are coming to grips with the fact that icons present a serious theological challenge to their theology. In addition to the discovery that a rereading of Scripture from a different angle can lead to a solid biblical basis for icons, they must also grapple with the implications that ripple out from the historic role of icons in the early Church. Cardinal John Henry Newman’s quip: “”To be deep in history is to cease to be Protestant” might be more true than most have considered! [See my articles: “How an Icon Brought a Calvinist to Orthodoxy” and “The Biblical Basis for Icons.”]

In the recent dialogue between Protestants and Orthodox over icons both sides have appealed to evidence from early Christianity. One of the challenges in this conversation has been unfamiliarity with early Christian sources on the part of some participants. Oftentimes it seems that those opposed to icons find some surprising evidence from early sources that appear to refute the Christian use of icons. What is needed is a comprehensive overview of early Christian sources on the use of images in worship. Steven Bigham’s Early Christian Attitudes toward Images (2004) seems to fit the bill.

The purpose of this review is to assess Bigham’s book in terms of its usefulness to the Reformed-Orthodox dialogue on the use of icons in Christian worship. I plan to review Bigham’s book in four installments.

Overview

Given the highly charged nature of the topic it is important that we put out certain facts on the table at the outset. Father Steven Bigham, Ph.D., is an Orthodox priest serving the Carpatho-Russian diocese in Montreal, Canada. The book is published by the Orthodox Research Institute. In his preface Bigham gives the book’s objective: “Eliminate once and for all the idea that the Christians of the first centuries were iconophobic.” Thus, Bigham’s book is an unabashed Orthodox apologia for icons.

While many of our readers hold strong theological convictions, I am confident that they are likewise committed to the use of critical reason and evidence based approach to forming of their faith convictions. In other words, we are not trapped by partisan categories; rather through an evidence-based approach one can come to a critically informed position on icons one way or the other. The primary criterion driving this review is historical. That is, how comprehensive is Bigham’s survey of the evidence from early the Christian period? How balanced is Bigham’s assessment of the evidence? How significant a contribution can the book make to the Reformed-Orthodox dialogue?

The book is divided into four chapters. Chapter 1 deals with the “hostility theory” which holds that the early Christians were hostile toward images. Chapter 2 deals with early Jewish attitudes toward images. Chapter 3 deals with the early Christian attitudes towards images, that is, the pre-Constantinian period. Chapter 4 deals with Eusebius of Caesarea who witnessed the beginning of Constantinian era.

The Hostility Theory

The argument against icons has taken several forms. One major line of attack has been biblical, giving special attention to the Second Commandment. Another has been a historical argument against icons. The “hostility theory” proposes: (1) that first century Judaism was aniconic or iconoclastic, (2) the early Church reflecting its Jewish roots was likewise aniconic or iconoclastic, and (3) the incorporation of images can be attributed to Christianity’s assimilation into Roman society under Emperor Constantine. For the reader’s convenience Bigham presents a lengthy excerpt that exemplifies the hostility theory (see pp. 2-3).

Bigham conducted a literature review that shows much of the hostility theory can be traced to nineteenth century liberal Protestantism. The contention here is that the modern historians invented the early Christians hostility towards images. In his assessment Bigham notes that the theory assumes the absence of images in first century Judaism and that this theory has been weakened by recent archaeological findings of images used in connection with Jewish religious life.

When the hostility theory was being developed, our knowledge of ancient Judaism was much more limited than it is today. The artistic monuments we know today were all still underground. It is easy to see why no one questioned the notion that Judaism was monolithically iconophobic, but throughout the 20^th century, our accepted ideas about the attitudes and the practices of ancient Judaism have gone through a radical revision and this especially as a result of recent archaeological discoveries. Once again, artistic monuments, this time Jewish ones, have challenged the advocates of the hostility theory to reconcile the supposed Jewish aniconia and iconophobia with the Jewish artistic monuments found in the archaeological digs (Bigham p. 6).

Bigham examines the recent archaeological finding in Chapter 2. But issue before us here is the way the hostility theory is framed. It is important to keep in mind that much of the recent Protestant opposition to icons has been influenced by nineteenth century Christian liberalism and is thus markedly different from the iconoclasm of the seventh and eighth centuries, and from the iconoclasm in Calvin’s Institutes. By deconstructing modern Protestant iconoclasm Bigham has made a substantial contribution to Reformed-Orthodox dialogue. His analysis enables us to become critically aware of the issues and assumptions that unite us and divide us. All too often it has been the hidden assumptions that have derailed inter-faith dialogue. This creates a window of opportunity for two different theological tradition to converse with each other with understanding and empathy.

Image versus Idol

Another important task Bigham carries out in Chapter 1 is drawing the distinction between image and idol. The term “image” covers a wide range of meaning. Image can mean: (1) image of pagan deities, (2) religious art in the Mosaic Tabernacle and later Jewish temples, (3) decorative art in Jewish life, and (4) religious art used in Christian worship. This distinction is important for how we understand the prohibition in the Second Commandment. An awareness of these conceptual categories helps in the assessment of historical and archaeological evidences.

One frequent problem I’ve noticed is the tendency by some to interpret the Second Commandment as a blanket prohibition against any and all images. These critics then take early sources that denounce the use of images in pagan worship and apply them to the use of images in worship in Christian worship. The issue here is not pagan religions, but worship in the Jewish and Christian traditions. Leaving out irrelevant ancient sources critical of pagan idolatry reduces the amount considerably leaving us to consider relevant evidences. And even when those who oppose icons do find ancient sources critical of the use of images in Christian worship they must show that these are not isolated individual instances but part of a broader consensus opposed to the use of images in Christian worship. So far they have failed to do this.

Differing Understandings of Tradition

Another frequent problem in the dialogue between Orthodox and Protestant dialogue is the disparate understandings of Tradition. Some Protestants assume that for Orthodox Christians Tradition is static, allowing no room for development. This is not the case. Bigham counters that stereotype noting:

Few defenders of the idea of Tradition claim that nothing has changed since the beginning of the Church, and everyone recognizes that all the changes that have taken place have not necessarily been for the good. . . . . A healthy doctrine of Holy Tradition makes a place for changes, and even corruption and restoration, throughout history while still affirming an essential continuity and purity. This concept is otherwise known as indefectibility: the gates of hell will not prevail against the Church. This theoretical framework, indefectibility, takes change and evolution into account but denies that there has been or can be a rupture or corruption of Holy Tradition itself (p. 15).

This description of Tradition as dynamic and organic with an element of continuity and fidelity is helpful for both Orthodox and Reformed Christians. It recognizes Orthodoxy being situated in the messiness of human history. It allows for Orthodox Christology existing alongside early heresies like Docetism, Arianism, and Apollinarianism without undermining the notion of theological orthodoxy. The presence of early Christological heresies does not mean the early Church did not believe in Christ’s divinity or in the Trinity. The Church had always held to these beliefs, but was forced by these heresies to articulate her beliefs with precision using “invented” terms like: Trinity, homoousions (consubstantial), and creatio ex nihilo (creation out of nothing). The Reformed tradition’s understanding of the Trinity and Christology imply an acceptance of historical development in early Christianity. A rigid and static approach to Christian tradition would require the jettisoning of important theological terms like: Trinity, hypostasis (person), ousia (being), and homoousios (of the same Essence). No serious Protestant would dare take this position!

Most Protestant and Reformed approaches to this messy historic traditioning process all too often default to ahistoric propositional reductionism. The propositional reductionisms in their confessions fail miserably to deal rigorously with how the Church under the guidance of the Holy Spirit applied the implications of Christological dogmas. Thus, Protestant ecclesiology and its understanding of history seem void of any consideration of the Holy Spirit’s presence in the early Church and in lives of the church fathers. This tendency can be seen not only in the icon debate, but also with respect to the formation of the biblical canon. The Holy Scripture so revered by Protestants and Reformed Christians is the result of several centuries’ long process in which the Church guided by the Holy Spirit determined which writings can be deemed divinely inspired and authoritative. But when we read Reformed confessional documents we find only ahistoric assertions about the nature and makeup of the Bible. It is as if the Bible miraculously appeared out heaven and landed in the early Church in leather bound version with all 66 books neatly listed with little or no human involvement in the making and shaping of the biblical canon.

The Orthodox affirmation of the historical development of Tradition is based on Christ’s promise that he would send the Holy Spirit who would guide the Church into all truth (John 16:13). The historical development of Tradition is like a tiny young sapling that grows over time into a big mature tree (Matthew 13:31-32). Bigham writes about the growth and development of the role of art in Christian Tradition:

Nevertheless, once adopted, Christian art became such an important support to the proclamation of the Gospel that its conscious rejection had very serious repercussions. With time, the Church invested so much energy in its sacred art that a simple custom became an essential witness to the preaching of the Gospel. Once again, images are not necessary as are baptism, the eucharist, the doctrines of the Trinity or the divinity of Christ, etc. without which we cannot even conceive of Christianity as we know it now. Images became essential, in item and through the blood of the martyrs, because their rejection implied a weakening or even a denial of the Incarnation itself (p. 18).

Bigham here presents Tradition as concentric circles. There is the essential core consisting of the Gospel, the Trinity, and the Eucharist, and an outer layer of practices like the use of incense, holy images, and church buildings. While the outer layer is ‘less’ important, the organic nature of Orthodox Tradition is such that it is practically impossible to separate the various constituent elements. Over time as the liturgical life of the Church flourished and as the early controversies led to a deeper appreciation of the Incarnation the role of images in Christian worship underwent a profound change.

It is important that any Protestant critique of Orthodoxy have an appreciation of Orthodoxy’s complex and nuanced approach to Tradition. Failure to do so will result in the projecting of popular stereotypes on a venerable theological tradition. In short, a Protestant apologist presuming that for Orthodoxy Tradition is static will end up setting up a straw man argument. This is shoddy apologetics and hinders Reformed-Orthodox dialogue.

Icons and Apostolicity

Both those favor icons and those who oppose them argue from apostolic continuity. Those who oppose icons argue that they represent a lost apostolic Tradition, that the early Christians did not use images in worship, and that the introduction of images into Christian worship represent a rupture that require a return to the original apostolic Tradition. Those favoring icons likewise argue from Tradition asserting there was no break in apostolic Tradition, that there exists a fundamental continuity between the early Christians and Orthodox veneration of icons. For theologically conservative Christians, both Protestant and Orthodox, apostolicity is essential to authentic Christianity. This gives them common ground as opposed to modernism. For theological liberals fidelity to apostolic tradition is less crucial than evolutionary adaptation to society. If Reformed theology rests on a flawed historiography then Reformed Christians need to seriously reconsider the implications of icons for apostolicity and authentic Christianity.

Conclusion

The work done by Father Steven Bigham in Chapter 1 will make a valuable contribution to Reformed-Orthodox dialogue. The care and attention which he gives to the issues underlying the recent icon controversy will assist both sides. The Reformed-Orthodox dialogue on icons is far from over and has only just begun. This book is recommended for both Reformed and Orthodox Christians.

Robert Arakaki

The Grammar of Prayer

July 9, 2013 / Robert Arakaki / 23 Comments

For many Evangelicals prayer is talking to God with the phrase “In Jesus’ Name. Amen.” added at the end. The emphasis is on praying sincerely from the heart. Little thought is given as to what makes for good mature Christian prayer.

In this blog posting I want to discuss how Christian prayer is fundamentally Trinitarian in structure, and how inculcating a Trinitarian approach to prayer will deepen and strengthen our prayer life. Christian prayer is something more than the generally unstructured approach taken by many Evangelicals. How we understand God, especially God as Trinity, will have a profound effect on our spirituality.

What Is Christian Prayer?

For a brief period of time when I was an Evangelical I was attracted to the reverence and structure of the Episcopalian church. I found in its Book of Common Prayer (BCP) an eloquence and a theological sophistication that seemed absent in much of Evangelicalism. In the Catechism is a section “Prayer and Worship” which starts out:

Q. What is prayer?

A. Prayer is responding to God, by thought and by deeds, with or without words.

Q. What is Christian Prayer?

A. Christian prayer is response to God the Father, through Jesus Christ, in the power of the Holy Spirit.

I found here the link between our prayer life and God as Trinity. How we understand the Trinity influences the way we pray, and the way we pray affects our understanding of the Trinity. I had stumbled on the ancient principle of lex orandi, lex credendi: the rule of prayer is the rule of faith. This discovery would in time help me transition from modern Evangelicalism to historic Christianity. While I did find much to appreciate in the Episcopal Church, I was taken aback by the strong influence of liberal theology among the clergy. So, I never gave the Anglican option serious thought.

This Trinitarian approach to prayer is grounded in Scripture. In John 14:6 Jesus declared that he was the way to the Father; and in Romans 8:26-27 Paul taught that on our own we are incapable of praying but are able to pray because of the Holy Spirit’s intercession in us. Paul’s understanding of the Trinitarian structure of Christian prayer can be found in Ephesians 2:18: “For through him (Christ) we both have access to the Father by one Spirit.” (NIV; emphasis added)

Grammatically Incorrect Prayers

The discovery of the Trinitarian approach to prayer made me more alert and sensitive to the way people prayed. I soon became painfully aware how careless or inattentive Evangelicals were when they prayed. I heard prayers that were either nonsensical or heretical. These were not intentional heresies but the result of sloppy theology. What alarmed me though was the general indifference when I brought these errors to the attention of the leadership of my former home church.

My former home church celebrated the Lord’s Supper on the first Sunday of each month. The elders of the church would go up and sit behind the communion table. Then one elder would pray over the bread and another would pray over the grape juice. I remember one Sunday morning, the elder open with: “Dear Heavenly Father. . . .” then proceed to express his gratitude for God’s grace and love. This was all fine then I heard him give thanks for God dying on the Cross for our sins. When I heard that I knew what he had in mind, that he wanted to thank God for sending his Son to die for us. But due to his not distinguishing the persons of the Trinity he ended up inadvertently teaching the heresy of patripassianism: that God the Father suffered on the Cross.

At another Lord’s Supper celebration, I listened to the associate pastor, who graduated from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, a leading Reformed seminary, committing a blooper while leading the congregation in prayer. He opened praying to Jesus Christ, recounted how Jesus died on the Cross for our sins, and closed with: “In your Name. Amen.” Grammatically, this was nonsensical because we pray to the Father through the Son. To pray to Jesus in Jesus’ name makes no sense. I brought it to the pastor who disregarded it as a trivial matter.

Then on another occasion I was praying with an Evangelical friend who was a seminarian at Fuller Theological Seminary. He opened with: “Dear Lord. . . .”, presented his prayer requests, then closed with: “In your name we pray. Amen.” Afterwards, I asked him which Person of the Trinity he was addressing the prayer to and all I got was an embarrassed shrug. Upon further reflection I realized that theologically this prayer was fundamentally Unitarian. Not that my friend was Unitarian, but his prayer was one that a Unitarian could easily have prayed.

The absence of a grammar of prayer became evident when I took part in a discussion with fellow seminarians at Gordon-Conwell. We talked about which person of the Trinity we preferred to address our personal prayers. High church Christians prefer to address their prayers to God the Father, Evangelicals prefer to pray to God the Son, Jesus Christ; and the charismatics like to pray to the Holy Spirit as well to Christ. The bottom line was that all three persons of the Trinity were divine and so it really didn’t matter whom we prayed to. During all this that line about prayer in the Book of Common Prayer stuck in my mind and made me realize that there was indeed a distinctly Christian approach to prayer. It made me call into question the soundness of Evangelical theology, especially if this theology exerted so little influence on the way Evangelical prayed to God.

Why We Pray In Jesus’ Name

To pray “in Jesus’ Name” means that you are praying as He would pray. This means that you know what Jesus wants and that your desires are in line with His. Jesus’ Name is not a credit card that we can swipe to get what we want. That is why the Lord’s Prayer is so important for learning how to pray.

We learn from it that we are to seek the sanctification of the Father’s Name. This is a very Jewish notion of prayer. Further, we learn that we are to seek the kingdom of God here on earth—another very Jewish notion.

Christians pray in Jesus’ name because he is our great high priest (Hebrews 4:14-16) and because he is the only mediator between man and God (I Timothy 2:5). Many people think that because God is omnipresent and omniscient, he will hear everyone’s prayers no matter what. The weakness of this reasoning is that it separates God’s Being from his Person. Prayer is basically a person to person encounter. Also, it fails to take into account the Incarnation. In the Incarnation God the Father revealed himself specifically through His Son who took on human flesh (John 1:14; see also Matthew 11:27). Furthermore, by his death on the Cross Christ reconciled us to the Father restoring the possibility of communication with God (Hebrews 10:19-22). If we are alienated from God, not living in harmony with God’s will, prayer becomes an impossibility. Only if we turn back to God and seek to do God’s will is prayer possible. This is where faith in Jesus Christ is so crucial. God the Father sent his Son so that we could enter into relationship with him. This is the foundational basis for Christian prayer.

Christian prayer assumes our being baptized into Christ. As a result of the sacrament of baptism we are no longer autonomous beings alienated from God; we are now in Christ, reconciled to the Father. This is because in baptism we are baptized into Christ’s death and his resurrection (Romans 8:3-11). By means of covenantal adoption we are now children of God. When one becomes a Christian, Christ’s name becomes our name as well. An awesome responsibility is given to us. In the biblical worldview the name was identical with the person. So when you pray in Jesus’ name it means you are asking for what he wants. Thus, a certain responsibility comes with the authority to use Jesus’ name.

To be entrusted with another person’s name is an awesome responsibility even in the secular world. When I worked at the Hawaii legislature I would go down to the supply shop and sign out for whatever office supplies were needed. I was able to do so because of the authority of my boss. I ordered office supplies “in Senator Norman Sakamoto’s name.” I used this power judiciously. One, because to act irresponsibly would bring shame on my employer’s name and that of his office. Two, because to act irresponsibly would result in my access to the supply shop being cut off. This experience helped me to understand John 14:13-14 where Jesus taught:

And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name and I will do it. (OSB)

Similarly, as Christians grow in maturity they come to know the mind of Christ and the more their thinking take on the kingdom perspective the more they are able to pray effectively in Jesus’ name.

Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi

The lack of structured prayers in Evangelicalism meant that when we prayed corporately the prayers offered quite often reflected the personal situation or the spiritual maturity of the person giving the prayer. This is both the strength and the weakness of Evangelicalism’s emphasis on personal prayer. It ends up as individualized prayer rather than the prayer of the community.

This desire for a more structured approach to prayer drew me to liturgical worship. There is structure in Evangelical and Protestant worship, but there seems to be a disconnect between the doctrine of the Trinity and the way they prayed. The Trinity was rarely invoked during Protestant worship except on solemn or formal occasions. But when I visited Episcopalian and Roman Catholic liturgies I was struck by how much more prominent the Trinity was in their prayers. Furthermore, the fixed prayers in these liturgical churches provided a balance and maturity that I usually did not sense at Evangelical or charismatic gatherings.

But it was in the Liturgy celebrated by the Orthodox Church that my understanding of Christian worship underwent a paradigm shift. Where before I saw worship as an expression of what was inside me, I began to see the Liturgy as reshaping my spirituality, conforming me to the values and perspectives of the eternal worship in heaven. Where before I saw worship as expressive—expressing what is in my heart here and now, I now see worship as participatory—participating in the eternal heavenly worship. I soon became aware that there were a lot references to the Trinity! I stopped thinking about the Trinity and began to encounter the mystery of the Trinity. One of the high points of early Christian worship is the Trisagion Hymn:

Holy God! Holy Mighty! Holy Immortal! Have mercy on us.

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,

now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

After hearing this ancient hymn sung every Sunday for several years I stopped thinking of the Trinity as some complicated triangle diagram, or some syllogistic pretzel, but as a Mystery to be encountered in worship. The Sunday worship in turn spills over into the prayer life of Orthodox Christians during the week. Paul Evdokimov wrote:

It is not enough to say prayers; one must become, be prayer, prayer incarnate. It is not enough to have moments of praise. All of life, each act, every gesture, even the smile of the human face, must become a hymn of adoration, an offering, a prayer.

Many Orthodox Christians strive to follow a rule of prayer using the Morning Prayers and Evening Prayers. I found that these fixed prayers offer structure and balance that I did not find in Evangelicalism’s spontaneous “from the heart” spiritual tradition. I also discovered that these prayers have an eschatological aspect to them. Prayer is eschatological because it makes us sharers in the kingdom of God.

Prayer as Journey

Prayer is a journey that takes us into the mystery of the Trinity.

A life of prayer will result in a transformed life. This process of transformation is theosis (deification).

Jesus prayed:

And the glory which You gave Me I have given them, that they may be one just as We are one. I in them, and You in Me; that they may be made perfect in one…. (John 17:22-23, OSB)

We are meant to be partakers of the divine glory shared by the Father and the Son. We are called to be in the Son just as the Son is in the Father. Thus, the Trinitarian structure of prayer reflects the basic purpose of prayer to draw us into the life of the Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Robert Arakaki

Year: 2013 (Page 7 of 14)

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