Chalcedon Term Lordship: 40% of our grade. I'm praying.

In the Name of the Father…

A comparison of Karl Barth and Leonard Vander Zee on Baptism

Jesse Broussard
Lordship, Nicea Term

Karl Barth was a genius. He published over six million—yes, six million words in his magnum opus Church Dogmatics alone. His commentary on Romans is considered to be one of the most important theological treatises since Friedrich Schleiermacher's On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despisers. And, he was an absolute bastion of Orthodoxy—once asked if he could sum up his life’s work in a single sentence, he paused for a moment before responding with a smile: “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” So, when Barth takes a position, we should give that position a great deal of respect, and not reject it lightly.

Leonard J. Vander Zee is the author of several books and multiple magazine articles, as well as being the pastor of South Bend (Ind.) Christian Reformed Church. He is highly respected throughout most of the reformed world, and our own Peter Leithart praises his Christ, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper as “the most satisfying introduction to sacramental theology that I've come across.”

So, we have a highly respected pastor who disagrees with a nearly legendary theologian. Not surprisingly, it is over baptism.

In any debate, the parameters are paramount—when debating an issue, you must have defined terms. This is the most exigent point for clarity, without which we cannot hope to make real progress in any type of dispute. So, in this debate on baptism, let us look at the debater’s actual definitions of baptism, for this is where the disagreement occurs: what is baptism, and what does it do?

Karl Barth says that baptism is

"The representation* of a man’s renewal through his participation by means of the power of the Holy Spirit in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and therewith the representation* of man’s association with Christ, with the covenant of grace which is concluded and realized in Him and with the fellowship of His Church."

This is quite clear. Baptism is a physical representation of a spiritual reality, and that is the reality of a man’s regeneration. As it is a representation, it should not be expected to do anything—it points to what has already been done, or what is being done, it re-presents, perhaps in a symbolic and more clear fashion, what has elsewhere occurred.

However, Vander Zee does not agree, to put it mildly. He states that “In the sacraments we acknowledge in faith that whatever happens to Christ also happens to us,” and “Baptism plunges us into the waters of His vicarious human life, uniting us and identifying us with this new humanity.” Their disagreement continues, as Barth states “That it (baptism) is only* a picture is evident…” while Vander Zee says “(baptism is) truly a means of grace…”

Their fundamental opposition should now be quite clear, andit truly is a tremendous difference. Baptism to Barth is a representation of our union to Christ, but to Vander Zee, it seems to accomplish our union. To Barth, baptism is a symbol pointing to a reality as a statue points to a man; to Vander Zee, baptism is in and of itself the actuality, the brass tacks if you will. This is the heart, soul, and extent of their disagreement: baptism as a symbol of our union with Christ verses baptism as an agent of our union with Christ. Put another way, Barth says that webaptize to symbolize our union with God, while what Vander Zee says is more along the lines of God baptizing us into a union with Him.

So with their differnces now clear, we must ask the question: who is right? Or, more properly, which one represents Scripture more accurately?For this, we must turn to the Bible, which is far from silent and entirely “other than neutral.” 1 Peter 3 states that “There is an antitype (of Noah’s salvation through the flood) which now saves us*—baptism…” In Colossians, Paul is no less explicit, declaring in chapter two that baptism itself unites us to Christ’s death and resurrection. Romans 6 declares that “as many of us as were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death…Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.” Galatians 3 blithely states that it is via baptism that we “put on Christ.” And, throughout Scripture, the symbolism of baptism is pervasive, and almost never used to symbolize a small or simple event, but usually cataclysmic and earth-shattering events. Indeed, usually creations or decreations—the Holy Spirit upon the surface of the waters in creation, the flood, the birth of Israel through the Red Sea, and again through the Jordan River. Elijah and Elisha part and pass through rivers in their ministries, Moses and Jonah are both given unique baptisms which result in the salvation of a nation and a great city, respectively. We have so many more that I do not have time to list them, but again, they are almost universally tremendous, glacial events—the ministry of the “greatest man of woman born” was baptism, and he declared that the ministry of the Messiah would be a greater baptism, and then the ministry of this Messiah, our Lord the Christ Himself was initiated at His own baptism.

What we are never given in Scripture—and I speak with great respect of a man whose stature I cannot even comprehend, let alone aspire to—but what we are never, never—not even once—given in Scripture is the picture of baptism that Barth gives us: a representation of a greater event. No, baptism throughout Scripture is without exception presented as Vander Zee has portrayed it—a mysterious, momentous event that raises nations and casts them down, that changes the course of history time and time again—a great, epochal and monumental event.

Someone will ask—someone always asks—“Why does this even matter?” The question is fair, and to an extent I agree. No one should decide not to fellowship with another Christian because of their baptistic theology, as this is an area upon which great orthodox men of faith disagree. But when the fruits of the varying beliefs upon “what baptism is” are seen, we end up with a spectrum of lifestyles ranging from paedobaptists to Anabaptists; we have infants raised in the “paidea” of God, and we have godly teenagers who are still estranged from the table of Christ’s body and blood, and are raised outside of the covenant community to which they are heirs. In the words of the Apostle: My brethren, these things should not be so.



Bibliography

http://www.christianitytoday.com/history/special/131christians/barth.html

www.leithart.com/archives/000984.php

Barth, Karl. The Teaching of the Church Regarding Baptism (Eugene: Wipf and Stock
Publishers, 2006).

Vander Zee, Leonard J. Christ, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper: Recovering the
Sacraments for Evangelical Worship (Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 2004).

Oddities of my friends and neighbors...

Here's a Dr. Seuss Declamation:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOa0HaWIJJQ

"I Feel Pretty" in a very intriguing Latin rendition:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpzjI80LlEw&feature=related

Achilles verse Paris, in a rather typical display of our Muscovitishness:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6EqjqkcsDOQ&feature=related


It's actually quite amusing to just browse through our rather imposing selection of videos. There's a Princess Bride in Latin, as well as a bunch of other things. There should soon be me verse Swanson in a rugby video; I'll let you know.

Blessings,
Jesse Broussard

Christ as Priest

Comparing Leviticus 10:9 with Matthew 27, we are given yet another angle from which to view the work of Christ.

Ahh, Rhetoric...

A few more intriguing statements from the King of Commonplaces.

"Just because Mr. Grieser and I both think you suck doesn't mean we don't like you."

" 'Cause Darwin has a big, scary beard, like a prophet."

"Every time I come into Moscow from Pullman, I see the sign that says 'Welcome to Moscow, Heart of the Arts.' On my left is an enormous Wall-Mart, and on my right is the sewage treatment plant. It makes me warm inside."

This is a small sampling of a few of his worse ones, but I'll have to get my Commonplace book to give you better ones.

Blessings,

Jesse

My Apologies

Sorry that it's been so long since I've posted. Life has been unusually insane, but appears to be slowing down somewhat.

I will be coming home at the end of this week, probably pulling an all-nighter to arrive Saturday morning, or, should I be more tired, Saturday afternoon or evening.

School is going all right, but not as well as last term. My Latin grade is very low--failing low--but I am actually starting to somewhat recover. I found that a mix of pain meds and the NSA course load is not exactly a great mix. I would end up trying to read the two-hundred pages or whatever we happened to have due, and falling asleep on page ten. I was proud of myself for catching up--no easy feat--but my streak of being always current in everything was broken in Lordship, and almost all of my Latin quizzes were M's.

Much beyond this there is little to say. I have a computer now, thanks to Duane's tireless labor in selling my house.

Blessings, and I'll see you all soon.

Jesse Broussard

"Fearless" is just another way of saying "Stupid"

I am fairly certain that I am somewhere in the range of five feet, six inches tall. I also weigh one hundred and eighty pounds, and am fairly athletic. So, when the call went out for a game of pumpkin rugby, I was delighted.

For those of you who are not in the loop, rugby is kind of like soccer with tackling and no forward passing (and you carry the ball), or like football without the full suits of body armor or thirty-second breaks every ten seconds.

It is, in short, death. And a lot of fun at that.

We were playing with thirteen people per team (usually fifteen), and it is called pumpkin rugby because you use pumpkins instead of rugby balls.

The twenty-six people form some rough semblance of two lines facing each other, just like in football, and then the game starts.

Well, our "team" was playing the actual rugby team (motto: "many deaths, one life"), so we were slaughtered before we started. I had more rugby experience than most people on our team, so I was a starter, and I am both decently fast and decently strong, so I was put on the far right wing.

Trouble started immediately, when ten of our thirteen people began rushing the ball carrier. This happened a few times, and possessions were going back and forth, when it happened. Patrick Swanson. He literally has fourteen inches and about a hundred pounds on me, and generally just carries those who try to tackle him as far as he feels like. He lined up right in front of me, and I have one other person within twenty feet.

So, they passed him the ball.

My whole team now begins to run this direction, but it's a bit late for me: I have two options. One, I can just get out of his way, or two, I can attempt to tackle him the way a bowling pin tackles the ball.

I chose the latter, figuring I could at least slow him down enough to prevent their team from getting a try (goal).

I did. I hit him low, just below the waist, and as hard as I could. I was literally thrown backwards, landed on my head and then on my feet, and by the time I had re-oriented myself, he had been tackled by the loyal (if belated) rat-pack of ten teammates, and there was thunderous (or at least somewhat loudish) cheering, I presume for my suicidal charge or for his Kevorkianesque assist.

I figured, due to rather severe nausea, that something was wrong, so I subbed out. By that time, I realized that it wasn't my knee, but rather my shoulder that was hurting. I had full sensation and motion and all of that jazz from the elbow down, but I had no ability to move my arm from the shoulder to the elbow.

So, Gretchen Rice (using my shears, I might add) cut my shirt off, and I literally saw that my shoulder was quite dislocated (qua: forcefully ripped from its socket and less than pleasantly relocated in the vicinity of my armpit). A friend offered to put it back in the socket. I had just landed on my head at an uncomfortably rapid rate of transit, so I agreed. When I woke up, I was seated in a chair and about to vomit from the pain (did I mention that this hurt?).

So, I went to the hospital, where I was given four mg's IV dilaudid by a staggeringly beautiful nurse, and was then shown the location of the head of the ball of the ball and socket joint, which I could feel just between the deltoid and the pectoral. The doctor said that it was a "rather horrific" dislocation, and the nurse placed me at a ten on the pain scale, though I would have done Holly proud and never went above a six.

So, they put me under a general anesthesia, and put the shoulder back in. I woke up quoting John Donne and asking Holly if she wanted a tingle touch. I'm still trying to get some more of whatever drug they used.

So, here I am, typing with my left arm on a swivel sling (I undid the body-strap), and in retrospect I have to say, I wouldn't have changed a thing.

Rowling is slightly queer...

J. K. Rowling, authorette of the famous Harry Potter series, just held some type of press conference in Carnegie Hall, announcing that yes, Dumbledore should have been played by Ian McKellan. He is gay.

This is what lay behind the deep angst at overthrowing whomever that evil wizard was (not Voldemort, the one who had the wand): they were lovers.

Deeply touched as I am at this new depth of feeling and complexity within one of the greatest characters of this story, I cannot restrain an odd sense of glee at how much I disliked the last book when it finally came out. As well as being disappointed that I'm still going to go see the movies when they come out, and will probably enjoy them.

Oh well. C'est la vie.

Jerusalem Term Grades

Grading system (low to high): M, MCS, CS, SCS, MCH, CH, SCH, CL, SCL.

Latin: MCS
Rhetoric: CH
Math: SCH
Lordship: SCH

MCS is the lowest passing grade offered, which did not surprise me in the least, but I am slowly improving, and hope for an SCS to a CH this term.

CH is roughly a "B", and SCH is a high "B".

In our Rhetoric class (Nate Wilson's), we had one SCL, which is a high "A", no CL's, six from MCH to SCH, and twenty-seven M's. The other's (maybe twenty?) were in the CS range. At the fall banquet (where we received our grades), the upperclassmen put on a news-style presentation of the various absurdities of the year: "In other news, Nate Wilson flunked yet another class of Freshman Rhetoric Papers, stating that: 'They smelled funny.'" A couple Freshman laughed, but never will again.

In Lordship, I almost got a CL, but I missed one of three oral questions (ten minutes for each question, so you are expected to know City of God, Confessions, On the Incarnation, The Institutes, and all class discussions inside out.).

Math, there is really nothing to report. I aced the midterm (about one hundred and six percent) and got a high "C" on the final.

So, Latin is the great enemy to be conquered this term.

Blessings,
Jesse Broussard

Christ and Abram

Genesis 12 contains the story of Abram visiting Egypt and claiming that his wife was his sister. I don't want to get involved in the morality of his half-lie (for which/in spite of which he was blessed), but rather to look at the reversal of this in the life of Christ.

Abram had a beautiful wife and he claimed that she was his sister so that he would not be killed. Christ had a hideous bride, and she, pining for slavery, claimed that He was her brother (human), not her groom (God). When He would not go along with her lie, she killed him so that she could run off with the Egyptians.

The Bloodless Covenant of Marriage?

O. Palmer Robertson has a book (that we are reading) called The Christ of the Covenants. In it, he defines a covenant as "an oath in blood sovereignly administered", the blood referring both to the gravity of the covenant and to the fact that it is usually accompanied, usually initiated, by a sacrifice.

The point that I want to get to is the covenant of marriage, as it is one of the few "bloodless" covenants in Scripture, or so it is labeled.

In my opinion, this nomenclature is absurd.

One of the points that Robertson raises in this book is that the phrase "to make a covenant" would more appropriately be rendered "to cut a covenant". The first marriage covenant was accomplished by God (the sovereign administration) cutting open the side of Adam and creating the necessary (don't tell the Episcopals) component for marriage. The archetypal marriage--that of Christ and the church--is the same thing: the side is opened, and out flow the two sacraments, the two signs of the church, blood and water. And we refer to marriages as bloodless?

"The life of the flesh is in the blood", and the life of the one flesh union is in the one blood that is shared. If there is no one blood, the union is death and merely joins rotting flesh.

Suicidal Love and a Proper Response

There is an absolute and glorious security (yes, it's a Calvinistic doctrine) in the fact that we cannot fail God: before He laid the foundation of the world, He knew, indeed, He ordained every sin and flaw within us. He could have made us otherwise, but He did not. Not only did He not make us otherwise; He died for us as we were so that we might one day be as He is.

There is an element of truly suicidal fearlessness in this Love. It is a Love that not only looks at the hammer poised to drive the nail into its hand, but also designed the hammer, the nail, the one who wields them, and in such a way that there could be no doubt as to the end of the story.

Why? For His own Glory, Love has done this.

So, when we again raise the hammer, let us repent in proper awe. Let us realize that God knew an eternity before we did that we would raise the hammer and that we would lower it as well, and, far from reconsidering creating us, decided to honor us by glorifying Himself through our sins as well as our sanctification. Let us glorify Him as God, and let us give Him thanks.

Incomplete Raw Emotion

'Tis but one voice I long to hear, and it alone can speak
Of hospitals and ice chips, or home, a cup of tea;
Tingle touches, sleepless nights, chapstick and the beach,
Looney Tunes and Tortoise Shell, my hands upon her feet:
Hiraeth
is dead.

Were you not told? Go home. It's over, All has died.
God's tomb we cannot find, for out of reach of mortal man,
Beyond earth, sky and sea it lies.

Oh foolish earth! Why do you turn? Did you not hear?
She's dead.
Do you think it matters now, the moonlight and the green?
Her eyes are shut, the moss and clay eclipsed forever be;
Why do you turn?

Accursed sun! I saw you die; are you blind that you don't see?
I held her hand at world's end,
So stop! It's done, complete.

No more her flaming hair to light; why shine you still?
Her eyes you will not find, her smile you cannot see.
Her cat-scarred hands and dappled face we buried on a hill,
Bared feet facing you each morn, midst rivers, sky and sea.
Did you not hear?
She's dead.

Yet, should you hear, should you go black, yet still you would not see;
For God has died, but is not dead: so Holly too shall be.
Have you not heard?
Two voices still I long to hear, that soon, to me, shall speak.

Christ as David

All of this is stolen from Leithart (you can use my link to browse his site).

The genealology in Matthew is vastly different from the somewhat more literal one in Luke, and and one of the reasons is that it is showing Christ as the new David: the name "David" in Hebrew has three letters, daleth, vav, and daleth again, which adds up to a total numerical value of fourteen (Jews didn't use our Hindu-Arabic numeral system, or Roman numerals. To them, Alef was one, Bet was two, Gimmel was three, Daleth four, and so on, so any word was also a string of numbers). The genealogy has three sections (the three letters) of fourteen generations each (the numerical value of the name): fourteen generations from Abraham to David, from David to the captivity, and from the captivity to Christ (note that it is a genealogy of kings, and that the entire family of Ahab is missing, to the third generation).

Kline and Zechariah

In his highly anticipated (by the NSA oppressed among me) book Glory in our Midst (a commentary-ish thingamabobber on Zechariah), Kline, after a series of brilliant points, missed the one central point that I have ever gathered from that particular book.

When the rider (Christ) is mentioned as being among or between the trees, there is a ton of symbolism. Yes, the trees represent the people of God in front of the sea of their enemies, and no, I didn't see it. Yes, the trees (Myrtles are evergreens) represent the verse in Revelation speaking of the trees of life. Don't recall seeing that one either. Yes, the menorahs, yes the olive trees, and no, I didn't see any of these either.

However, the central theme of God between trees in all of Scripture is when He Is on a tree, and that is a symbol that Kline inexplicably (and almost inexcusably) misses in this vision.

We Long for Life but Cling to Death

The people of God tend to grow in a very set and formulaic pattern (this is obviously vastly simplified): a shadow of life, its death, and life born out of that death. The problems come when we attach ourselves to the shadow of life, and after its death constantly return to it, seeking its resurrection, instead of accepting the loss (however devastating) as a gift of God, bestowed upon us to make way for something new and better.

No intelligent farmer digs his seeds up daily to reminisce with them: they exist for death, and that death exists for life.

Homeward

I am finished with all of my finals: two rhetoric, two math, two Latin, and two and a half Lordship. I believe that I passed all of them, but only time will tell.

I head home tomorrow morning, and will see you all very soon.

I can hardly wait.

Just waiting for the oral...

Passed the Latin written final. Not well, but I passed it, which is (currently) all that matters. Studying for math, gotta go.

Plans

I will be heading home with another NSA freshman, Stephen Sproul (not rhyming with "roll", but pronounced, as Nate Wilson will never let him forget, "Sprowl"), on Thursday morning, leaving around 5:00 A.M.

I should arrive home that night, and will be available for fish tacos and beer, wine and poetry, movie nights and church that weekend and the following week, but will most likely leave Saturday to return to NSA.

That is my most recent set of plans, as they change, I will know, and may inform someone else should I feel so inclined.

Evil

We had a nice discussion on the origin, nature, and end of evil today (Declamation in Lordship), and I have come to slightly modify my view.

The end of evil is nothingness, which I have held for a long time. The nature of evil is always progressing towards its end, the only variation being the rate: amble downhill or swan dive off a cliff?

The origin is somewhat new. I hadn't considered it until I hit the later portions of City of God, in which Augustin(e) discusses it to some rather considerable length. He was still obfuscating "round about a meaning" a hundred pages after my attention span had begun dwelling upon exactly what our carpet might taste like (rather dry; needs vacuuming).

It's somewhat of a chicken or the egg quandary, so let me try out a few axioms, a la Euclid, though it will probably work as well as a la Descartes: "cogito, ergo sum. Cogito? Cogito cogito, ergo...um...ergo cogito? Ita. Cogito, ergo cogito. Cogito. Cogito? Sed..." This is why Descartes started using heroin.

Axioms:
1). God freely and unalterably ordained whatsoever comes to pass.
2). Evil came to pass.
3). "aardvark" is one of the great words of the English language.
4). Creation was "all very good".

And here is one that I would propose, but may or may not fly with all of you. If you can disprove it, I'll think of something amusing to do when I feel like it.

5). All that exists is for the glory of God.

So, we know that God is responsible for evil, and we know that He is not the author of it.

We also know that it came to pass sometime between the initial creatio ex nihilo of Genesis 1:2 and the 2nd chapter of Genesis.

If we accept axim #5, and we go by Isaiah 14, then this is what we can say so far as Satan is concerned: He was created to glorify the infinite God, and chose, in the perfect plan and will of God, to glorify his finite self.

He failed.

The chicken or the egg (obviously the chicken) is here: God created Satan, and all of God's creation was all very good. Evil comes from evil desires (namely pride), but where do the evil desires come from? A shift of focus from God to self. Is that not evil in itself? Then where did it come from? Evil desires. And so on and on it goes. At this point, I'd like to mention that my brain is full, and Satan sinned, so tace, and we'll move on.

The movement of evil from infinite good to the absolute negation that it ends up with is not surprising, considering what the first movement of evil is: a decision to glorify the finite self over the infinite God.

This is all I feel like writing at the moment; interesting things to dwell upon are the distinctions between different types of evil: "natural" disasters, evil objects, evil actions, and evil desires.

Blessings.

Schedule

I have my final exams scheduled, and my last one appears to be over at 9:00 am on Wednesday. It is my hope to make it to church on Sunday at the Pierce's, and it looks quite feasible.

All other things are going well, save choir and Latin, which are going--well, which are going. I should be caught up in Latin by Monday, but, I shouldn't have ever gotten behind. If only learning didn't take work, I, well, even if it didn't take work I probably still wouldn't bother with it, but I need something to complain about. Gotta have a scapegoat. I learned that one from Girard, but it wasn't on purpose, so it doesn't count.