We homo sapiens are a peculiar species. Beloved by God? Yes… But strange? Oh yes, indeed. And those of us who postulate on the existence of God are certainly no exception to this rule. In fact, truth be told, we are probably most peculiar of all. Not only do we hold dearly to our theological formulations – our conceptions of God, but we also hold fast to the very symbols we use to flesh out those formulations. In fact, one could argue that we’re even more fond of our symbols that we are of the invisible realities they supposedly point towards.

Why? Well, because of the very fact that these symbols are the closest things we have to tangibility when it comes to matters of the Spirit. I’ve seen this peculiar adherence to certain symbols become a sticking point for many Christians. One could even say that, for many, the sacrosanct nature of these symbols – whether this is consciously admitted to or not - leads many a Christian to declare- at least inwardly- that this is the hill one is prepared to die on.

I’ve even seen this evidenced frequently in the wonderful world of “Christian music”; and more specifically, the ‘worship and praise industry’. Here you will find the same tired old metaphors for God and the spiritual life in Christ used over and over, and over and over, and over and over again. Don’t we believe in artistry and originality? Sure… when it comes to musical forms. But on the issue of metaphors- which again, at best, only point us towards spiritual realities, change is not required, nor even encouraged. Let’s just stick with what’s always worked, we say- at least subconsciously. Hmmm… strange indeed. The Bible may be inspired and authoritative. But does that mean that each of the metaphors contained within are as well? At the exclusion of all fresh expressions of the same underlying realities?

Of course, this goes far beyond the realm of Christian music. When it comes to our theological formulations, the defense of symbols grows even more fierce. Often, when people react to a different interpretation of a certain passage of Scripture, or even an entire movement within Scripture, what they’re actually reacting to is not the underlying theology, but by what is perceived as a sudden, unwarranted attack on the symbols used to dress up said theology. In other words, we’re often less concerned with the reasonability of a particular exegesis as we are with the loss of symbols tied to an existing exegesis. And why? Well again, because these symbols represent the vessels by which we experience God. Take them away and we start to question where God is. Familiarity is a prized experience.

N.T. Wright, the well-respected New Testament scholar who currently serves as the Bishop of Durham in England, is certainly no stranger to the experience of seeing first-hand what happens when one tries to suggest that entire narratives- and by implication, all of their embedded symbols - are perhaps misguided - unbiblical, counter-historical, or what have you. In Jesus and the Victory of God, Wright (who has offended plenty an evangelical with his writings - specifically those geared towards a fundamentalist or ‘Left Behind’ mentality) writes about this phenomenon.

Now, interestingly enough, in this particular passage Wright is exploring the question of how and why the contemporaries of Jesus became so enraged, so threatened as to seek to silence Jesus – permanently. But of course, this observation of human nature is as true today as it was when Jesus turned Jerusalem on its head.

Tom Wright has been the object of much ridicule himself. Why? Well, because he proposes readings of Scripture that call into question entire superstructures of belief. It really does amaze me how threatened some seem by the teachings of Wright. When I read Wright’s work, all I find is the fruit of a man who has dedicated his life, not only to following Jesus of Nazareth, but in immersing himself in the sites, sounds, language- vernacular and proper, in other words, the culture, of 1st century Palestinian society, so as to better understand what Jesus – and his opponents – were really on about.

That immersion (for instance) offers insight into much of the fire and brimstone judgment one comes across in the gospels, and does much to expose the theology propping up the Left Behind books for what it is, fiction- and not very good fiction at that. Care for more details? Well without getting too far down this particular rabbit trail let me offer a few morsels for you to follow. What the worldview of the time tells us is that much of the fire and brimstone proclamation of Jesus was referring to an imminent judgment on the Template/priestly establishment- and of Jerusalem itself. That’s why Jesus said this would all happen within his generation.

Jesus was of course vindicated in that Jerusalem was indeed sacked within a generation of his prediction- and the temple was indeed destroyed. From the perspective of a Hebrew prophet, this would have validated his call- proved that he was indeed a prophet- and in fact, more than that, a, the, messiah.

What? You’re telling me that all that talk of judgment was about something that happened way back then? It’s not a prediction of our own future? That’s right. That’s exactly what I’m saying. The meaning, primarily, was all spelled out within a few decades of when Jesus first made the predictions. And the “left behind” portions had to do with the people who managed to “run to the hills” – so to speak, before the Romans ransacked the city, versus those who weren’t so lucky, or in some cases, wise.

This view is confounding to the religious conservatives of our own time- who assume all of that future-speak was coded language for a future that still awaits us. These people have developed an entire superstructure of symbol and meaning to support their view. The problem with this group is its fundamental (ironic choice of words, I know) misunderstanding of Jewish Apocalyptic, the genre in which so much future-speak is coined within the New and Old Testaments. People who lack an understanding of the internal workings - symbols and such - of Apocalyptic Literature, tend to take it literally. They, therefore, expect Jesus, super space-man, to come a-riding on the clouds at some point in the future to bring this time-space universe to a dramatic close. And why in the future? Well, because, clearly, he hasn’t come riding in the clouds to do this- yet. So it has to be future, right?

Well, again, only if you read things literally. But when you read it differently (in other words, in context), you realize that much of what Jesus spoke about can actually find fulfillment in events that have already taken place (namely the destruction of the Temple and the sack of Jerusalem by the Romans Under the Command of Titus in A.D. 70). In fact, when you see it in this light, this new interpretation suddenly makes all the sense in the world. It makes sense in terms of the consistency of Jesus’ message in both word and deed, and it makes sense in terms of actual historical events.

Lastly, and very importantly, it makes sense in terms of the audience to which Jesus was speaking. What sense would they have made of it all if Jesus was understood to be going on about some abstract, other-worldly judgment that was going to take place thousands of years in the future? Well, it would have made no sense at all. Its just not the kind of thing that a Jewish prophet- or, the Jewish messiah, for that matter, would at all be expected to say. Only an ignorant and anachronistic perspective could lead us to any alternative conclusion.

It’s important not to lose sight of the importance of this point.  While Jesus did plenty to expand people’s views, he still worked within the framework of His time. In that sense, he was an ‘enculturated’ being, just like us. He took a familiar framing story and he expanded it, rather than obliterating it in favor of something that would have seemed completely incomprehensible to his 1st century audience.

Now, getting back to our larger discussion of symbols and meaning, I do want to say that it’s not like I have no patience or sympathy for those who feel their symbols being stripped away. Because, even in the best of circumstances, with the best of responses, it is disorienting to feel your world (and that’s what it often feels like) passing away into the netherworld with the loss of treasured symbols. These symbols are not just figments of imagination. These, like I said earlier, are very often the very vessels by which we experience life in the Spirit. To lose them - for many - is equivalent to loosing sight of the path that leads us into the very presence of Christ.

And yet, if we really do believe in the underlying reality of God- of His goodness, His grace, His mercy, we should not be afraid of losing said symbols. Especially, in the case of the Left Behind images for instance, the symbols that arise to replace the old, actually lead us on a path towards much better news than we even dared imagine previously. Our old maps couldn’t get us here. But now that we’ve arrived, isn’t this a better place to be after all? Even if the interim period – where we didn’t know up from down, felt a little like a bizarre, wilderness experience?

What I’m getting at is that, if Jesus comments about judgment were for the religious ‘authorities’ of his day, then that does much to silence the concern for a harsh judgment of people in our own day and age. Suddenly, the normative message of Jesus, one of invitation, grace, and open-armed acceptance, can take center-stage again. This effectively addresses the concerns that people such as Brian McLaren have raised about more ‘conventional’ views of judgment- namely that the good news seems to lose much of its veneer with such a stark and unfavorable future awaiting so many. This is not, after all, some sick, hollow, bait and switch enterprise. Good news indeed!

In other words, the gospel is holistically good- all round, when understood in this new light. It has internal consistency to it. Understood in such a way we realize that Jesus was not initially offering an invitation of love and hope, only to later slam the door on the far side of judgment. Far from it, he was coming to initiate God’s judgment on the hypocrisy of the religious establishment- for the very reason that he had come to open up the flood gates of Heaven, to inaugurate an era where none who were willing would be turned away. What’s the lesson of this particular story? Well, perhaps it’s that it’s more important to hold to underlying values than it is to hold to the symbols that point us towards those values. Now while we might need some new symbols to envision this new reality, I'd say its well-worth it, wouldn’t you?