Tag Archives: typology

The Lord’s Supper (conclusion of The Sacraments)

Besides calling attention to Christ’s ongoing life (instead of his death alone), the Lord’s Supper goes beyond baptism by representing comm-union.  Protestantism does not believe in celebrating  the Lords’ Supper in solitude.  The Lord’s Supper, as said before, symbolizes the ongoing nature of that fellowship, plus the ongoing unity of all believers, like the several members of of a human body, in the one Lord Jesus with whom they died and now live.  Baptism is administered individually, denoting personal entrance into Christ’s fellowship.  And here is where we go wide awry in this whole matter of “preparation” and self-examination, which is kind of a carry-over from the Catholic custom of “going to confession” before taking communion, and even there, the horizontal reference is involved – namely, ones relation to fellow-communicants, rather than between the communicant and God, for I understand that a Catholic may attend mass and not take communion, without going to confession.

The custom of preparation and self-exam also stems from “fundamentalistic” influence, which believes that a Christian can be saved today and lost tomorrow.  True, every Christian has his spiritual ups and downs, but that is one of the very reasons for which the Lord’s Supper has been instituted and is intended, namely, to strengthen weak faith, by drawing on the Lord Jesus.  Much like prayer, when we need the Lord’s Supper the most we might feel the least worthy of it, which is a good reason why we should participate.  Spiritual weakness is a reason for going to communion, not for staying away.

As regards the touchy question of admission to communion on the part of non-members, we are guilty in this regard often of giving greater importance to a picture of God’s truth than the inspired truth itself.  Any one who presents himself before the preaching of God’s Word is surely adding to his condemnation if he responds negatively, and yet we encourage such persons to keep coming.  Consistency would recommend that if we bar some people from communion we ought to bar them from the two-edged “sword of the Spirit.”  In practice this means that groups like the LDS have some clear thinking and principal behavior when they open their “tabernacles” to all who wish to enter, but limit the temples and the worship therein, with the sacraments, to members.  We try to worship and do evangelism simultaneously , which is difficult in a normal service, but it is unChristian and discourteous to invite unchurched neighbors to any and all of our public services only to tell them politely that from one of the ceremonies they must abstain.  As regards our long-suffering children, who sit through long communion services in the hope that we may provoke them to a holy jealousy, it were better that a separate service be held for non-communcants; no part of a congregation should ever be told, “This part is not for you.”

Apart from that, by what criterion is one to examine himself to see just how sinful and miserable he is or isn’t?  Just how much faith should he have in Christ for salvation, and how can that be measured?  How strong must be the resolution to live the Christian Life (presumably by one’s own efforts)?

The Bible assumes (and so should we) that every member of Christ’s body is always “worthy” to take part in the Lord’s Supper;  readiness is something that should mark him constantly, not just at inspection time.  In the classic passage where Paul says we should “examine ourselves” he is not talking at all about the participants worthiness; you and I might have had our doubts about some of them on that score, and think that Paul should have scolded them.  To the contrary, he says that they were not celebrating the meal in a proper way, and they should give thought to that.  “Either celebrate it with the right attitude toward the meal and others, or stay at home,” he says.

When he says, “You eat and drink judgment upon yourself because you do not discern (see in this meal and its celebration) the Lord’s body” he is certainly not saying that they weren’t thinking about Jesus and his “physical” body; that was part of the problem.  They were not thinking about fellow-Christians, that body of Christ.  They were thinking only of “Jesus and me.”

Paul is saying nothing more nor less than Christ did when he talked about leaving our sacrifice on the altar (the Lord’s Supper on the table) until we are “one” with our fellow-Christian.  On that score we can and do “fall out of grace” between Lord’s Suppers.  That was the sin of the prodigal’s older brother, for the likes of whom the parable was told  – not a rescue mission story.  If the crash programs of family-visits that some churches have prior to the Lord’s Supper lay stress on that aspect of our Christian life, well and good.  But let us not let our reconciled state with God be an object of quarterly or even weekly analysis and anxiety;  that is not entering into God’s “rest”.  A nervous stomach is bad for digestion, either physical or spiritual.

Other weaknesses in the Lord’s Supper celebrations which confuse its participants as to purpose and meaning include:

  1. Inexact typology in one of the forms says that just as a great many berries are squeezed into a single container of wine, or many kernels of wheat are mixed  into one loaf of bread, so are all the members of Christ’s church molded by his Spirit into a unified whole.  This is a pretty picture, and we are allowed to make up such illustrations of our own as “types” of spiritual truths.  In this case, however, the analogy is not found in Scripture but, in fact, is exactly the reverse of what the Lord’s Supper intends to depict, mainly , that from the one to the many, we who partake of the one Lord Jesus Christ find our unity, despite being as “different and apart” as members of a human body, in Him as our single source, life-giver.
  2. Similarly, the breaking of the communion loaf (a symbolism to be preferred to the mechanically-cubed pieces) does not, as we said before, depict the fracture of Christ’s body in crucifixion, but, in symbolizing the death of the believers with Christ, may well depict also the fact that they must be “broken” and “poured out” in order to feed others in turn, first of all their own physical “flesh and blood” (relatives, families).  We are not simply to be served, but to serve; not only dine, but work; receive life, but to give it (by dying to self, as a mother “dies” to reproduce life).  Paul makes the startling statement that he “fills up” the sufferings of Christ by means of his personal sufferings in behalf of the gospel and its dissemination.  In Scripture the picture of wheat-kernels is not that they are ground up to make one bread, but that they are buried and die in order to re-create countless others.
  3. That, in turn, reminds of the un-communionlike controversies that ironically have fractured the fellowship within single congregations over the pictures of truth instead of the truths themselves; bad enough that we create denominations over disputed doctrines; the height of heresy (which basically means “trouble-making”) is to quibble over symbolism.  In the case of baptism it has taken the form of immersion vs sprinkling, but that quarrel can be understood because the reality behind the picture is at issue; two or more things are thereby being represented.  In the case of the Lord’s Supper, individual congregations (the basic unit of the church) have split over the question of individual versus common cups, and wine vs. grape-juice.  Both quarrels arose from failure to understand typology; it’s the common drink, not the container(s).  It’s the color and form of that drink, not the material, which is the point of comparison.  Would those who insist upon wine be agreeable to the white variety? So, a red soft-drink is acceptable (to say nothing of grape-juice) as in many (overseas) communions.  Perhaps not even color is significant; wine (or grape-juice) was the “coffee” of the culture in which Jesus lived and died.  It is not without significance that Jesus did not speak of that after-dinner beverage by name, but he and Paul consistently referred to it as “the cup.”
  4. It is the “cup of blessing” (or “thanksgiving”) which is the term the Israelites had used for 1400 years previously.  The pastor’s hand of benediction upon it is harmless enough, but it is we who do the blessing (praising), not God; we bless Him for it!  Much better that the cup of celebration be raised (by one or all) in tribute and toast to the host and the King.  Let’s let God’s pictures be picturesque!

The Practice of Typological Preaching

After this long excursus as to the NATURE of typology in Scripture, the frightening question comes to the conscientious preacher as to where he begins or ends adequate typological preaching.

First, the “sky is the limit” as to the possibilities.  Everything in Creation, as said earlier, is a type of Christ, the first-born of all creation, the archetype of redemption.  The Bible is so full of types that are not identified as such, are so “randomly” chosen, and so unexpectedly surprising sometimes (like Old Testament “prophecies” and their “fulfillment”: who would have guessed that muzzling oxen had anything to do with paying preachers? I Cor. 9:9 and repeated in Timothy!) that any mouthpiece for God, speaking by the Spirit of God, can find types where He will.

Second – and that, after all, is the purpose of any “type”, be sure that it really illuminates the point at hand.  (“Muzzled oxen” certainly does; the points of comparison are obvious.) Don’t strain to make a figure fit, as is done with the specific number of fish the disciples drew in John 21:11, etc.

Third: (converse of point 2)  Don’t draw analogies, though ever so perfectly fit, if the point at hand doesn’t need illumination or illustration.  This will do more than anything else to curb excess in this kind of preaching.  An old couplet (which comes in various formulations) says of the two testaments in Scripture:  “The New is in the Old contained, The Old is in the New explained.”  Too often preachers have delivered spell-binding  sermons on Old Testament themes in which they explain the Old Testament in the light of the New!  The pictures were intended to serve the people of their times until reality came, and they still serve us as illustrations, but who wants to spend undue time with a photograph when the person himself is physically visible? (Does it help to understand the atonement to point out that the Passover lamb was young, a male, without blemish, etc?)  This can soon end in allegorizing.

Fourth; do not make comparisons between all parts of type an application; Solomon’s temple is NOT  a model for our church-building obsession, especially as to extravagance. Joseph too was a type of Christ, but certainly not in marrying a heathen-priest’s daughter.  Hezekiah’s prayer for added life was imprudent; many troubles to self and nation followed in those years.

Fifth; Scripture changes type-and-applicaitons easily; Satan is a roaring lion; Jesus is the lion of the tribe of Judah; Satan is a snake; Jesus tells us to be wise as they.  The leaven in Matt. 13 (usually a symbol of evil) may in that place represent goodness.  In II Cor. 3 and 4 a “veil” represents different things.  Paul switches comparisons in Rom. 7 as to who dies; in I Cor. 14:22 his use of “sign” (or “unbeliever”) does not seem consistent.

Sixth:  Beware of confusing type and reality; the Israelites did with the brass serpent in the wilderness.  (We can do it with a cross.)  The Decalog, as we know it, is a type as to format (talking about Egypt, the 7th day Sabbath, oxen, etc.)  It is obsolete for New Testament usage.  It served Israel well in 1400 BC and was intended to be useful until Christ came.

Two Bible “stories” that have received more inadequate preaching (and other) treatment than any others are, surprisingly, the birth of our Savior and his death (and resurrection).  What makes this ironic is the fact that no Bible stories are more familiar and preached about more.  In a typical church, about one-fourth of a pastor’s available Sundays are used in Advent and Lenten series, of six weeks each. (Add to this the special occasions and such absences from the pulpit as vacations, it is a wonder that the average Christian congregation knows as much about the Bible as it does, which is meager.)  One unfortunate result of this over-emphasis is that a pastor feels forced to embellish the “inspired record” (disliking to repeat the same too-familiar facts every year), which creates in many listeners an addition to imaginative Bible fiction about Christmas and Calvary, and the confusion and ignorance is compounded. Doubly ironic, many of the important facts of Jesus’ birth and death are generally known, namely, that he did not descend from Solomon (Joseph did, but not Mary); the Wise Men did not visit him at the manger, his father Abraham was not a Jew (any more than Noah, or even Ham were black), and so on.  What Christian knows why Jesus chose Sunday on which to rise from the dead, when for his contemporaries it was the first work-day of the week?  Point is, Jesus’ birth and death (to say nothing of his resurrection) are signs, types of great importance.  In themselves, as historical events, they have great importance, of course; ( I Cor 2:1; I Cor 15.  But no facts are more universally known.  What sane person denies that Christ was born and is an historical figure, when every calendar is dated in terms of that event?  Who denies his crucifixion, when the cross is the most familiar man-made emblem or symbol in human history?  Even his resurrection is not seriously challenged, and all the preaching in the world cannot prove it to the atheist.

Nowhere are we told in Scripture to “remember” Jesus’ birth, and God took pains to see that the exact year, month, date, and day are unknown, as is true of the exact birth-spot, plus Calvary and Christ’s empty tomb.  This is what makes of limited value the “pilgrimages” to the un-Holy Land, where even the paths on which Jesus once walked are as much as seven feet below the present surface, and the water on which he once walked and boated might even now be in Lake Michigan, or our own drinking faucets.

We say all this, every Christmas and Good Friday, in reminding that Jesus’ could have been born a dozen times or even been crucified that often, and all that would mean nothing for us if he had not been raised (differently from Lazarus or Jairus’ daughter) and ascended into heaven.  But we persist in our imitation of the world and its spiritual ignorance by almost total neglect of the anniversaries of Jesus’ Ascension/Coronation and Pentecost, in which Christmas, Good Friday, and even Easter find their climax.  What is the significance of an earthly monarch’s birth, marriage, and other rites of passage, compared to his coronation?  Jesus followed his resurrection with 40 days of instruction as to its significance, and commanded his church to prepare themselves for what proved to be ten long days of waiting and watching for his return in the “Spirit”.  What a complete inversion of our customs, in which “Easter” is dropped the day afterward like a hot potato, and Ascension/Pentecost are neither prepared for or followed up, even if observed on the anniversary days themselves.  This is what Hebrews means when it says it readers major in the minors, have to be taught instead of being teachers, milk-drinkers instead of meat-eaters.  Today’s spiritual children at least have their preachers to blame for much of this ignorance.

In a sentence – for here we are pleading for typological preaching, not trying to exhaust the meaning of the atonement – Jesus was miraculously virgin-born not in order to be sinless (do we get our sinfulness from our male ancestors?), nor in order to be divine, but as a symbol of the divine nature of the new birth of every member of the new race that he fathered as the Second Adam (John 1:13).

 

Typology, Part II

This is perhaps a good point at which to include three forms, kinds, or applications of typology; the tabernacle, for example, is obviously a picture of Christ.  At the same time, it certainly is an apt picture of the three-fold nature of man (body, soul, spirit), which in turn reflects the trinitarian nature of God.  Isaac is one of many Old Testament persons who pre-figured Christ.  At the same time he typifies some aspects of the New Testament believer and his passive obedience to God; he also typifies the “self” (good enough; not something bad, any more than our Lord’s “self”-will) which has to be sacrificed (Rms 12:1) as certainly as Ishmael, symbolizing the believer’s old nature which has to be expelled.  (Ishmael is at the same time a symbol of unbelieving man.  All the while, of course, countless sermons can be and have been preached about Abraham, Isaac, Ishmael, et al from such purely historical perspectives as parental responsibilities versus favoritism, etc. Joseph especially has “suffered” from such “Bible-story” treatment versus his reel role in Scripture (and history) as Israel’s redeemer and a type of the Redeemer himself.)  (For the following, confer Andrew Jukes: Types in Genesis, p. xxviii

  1.  Inward application; what we might call the “spiritual” significance; apart from the historical story, Adam on this score is the “spiritual” father of the race, for ill.  (Rms 5)
  2. Outward (Jukes calls this allegoric.)  Adam symbolizes the “old man” in the unregenerate (who is nothing more) and the same in the Christian, which has to die. (Rms 6)
  3. “Dispensational”, future, anagogic, what we usually think of as “typological”; in Adam’s case, of course, he typifies (despite 1 and 2, above) the Lord Jesus (I Cor. 15).

It is obvious from these examples, a preacher can never “do justice” to Adam from a purely historical point of view (as preoccupies so many Bible students and critics) or Abraham, Moses, etc. apart from their typological significance.  The “moralizing” approach simply holds up Enoch for our example of piety; systematic theology struggles with (or ignores) the question of where he went, before Christ died for sin.  Typology sees in Enoch a picture of the “translation” of the living believers at end of world.

Similarly, in addition to all its wonder-working, and as a picture of it, Christ’s crucifixion is a symbol, a type of our own.  The New Testament uses the term “cross” as often in reference to the one you and I must die upon, than it does the historical one of Calvary.  (More of this, later, under the study of the Lord’s Supper, in which we remember our death with Christ as certainly as the Lord’s, at least we ought to.)

As regards the resurrection of our Lord, it was a sign of ours.  But when we say that, are we thinking of our resurrection to new life at regeneration?  That the new creation began on Easter morning (and hence Sunday, the first day of the week was chosen for that history-changing, “eternity” beginning event,) just as the first creation began on Sunday? (More about this later under baptism.)  Limiting our resurrection (on account of Jesus’) to our future one, after the death of our physical bodies, how much attention is paid to the fact that the bodies, manifestations that Jesus made of himself on Easter day and afterward, were not his glorified body, but types, signs?  Easter sermons expatiate on the fact that Jesus passed through closed doors after Easter (forgetting he ate and drank with them as he had done before, and that he walked on water before Easter).  Are we to assume that his glorified body has scars in hands and side, and if so, which ones of ours will we retain in glory?