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Is the account of the rich man and Lazarus an allegory? I along with many others have taken it as given that the account is not a parable, because it’s not introduced with Jesus’ traditional “parable” formula, “The kingdom of heaven is like…”, nor is there any mention it’s a parable. The story reads like a real event. “There was a certain rich man…”

But that doesn’t necessitate it being a real account. Clearly Jesus taught earthly stories with heavenly meanings all the time, used metaphors and analogies to teach, and spoke in cryptic ways, why could this story not be the same?

I’ll admit I have a bit of interest in it being an allegory, as the account is one of the more difficult passages to work into my particular argument about our status between death and resurrection. Simply put, I’m not so sure there needs to be consciousness between death and resurrection, that we may have a sort of soul sleep, that the moment of our death will be the moment of our resurrection, that at death we will “fast forward” to Christ’s return, and just as Christ says, we will not “see” or “taste” death, but like Stephen, we will immediately see Jesus standing, returning.

What, then, of our status between death and resurrection? Luther described it as a deep sleep, a blissful period. Here, we can take what Abraham says of Lazarus – it’s a state of comfort. But whether we have active consciousness, so that we can talk back and forth with people “on the other side,” I’m not so sure needs to be the case.

If Jesus is using an allegory, it could be His way of ascribing personified meaning and conversation to genuine truths. I believe something similar is going on in Revelation 6, where it is written, “When He opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the testimony which they held. And they cried with a loud voice, saying, ‘How long, O Lord, holy and true, until You judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?’ ”

Are there really souls in heaven under and altar crying out for vengeance? Or is this an allegory rooted in Genesis 4: 10, the type of all martyrdom: “The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground”? (See also Matthew 23: 35) Otherwise, we’d have to claim there is a sense in which those who have died are unsatisfied, or unfulfilled. Frankly, crying out for vengeance doesn’t sound very much like “comfort.” So I have no problem seeing Revelation 6 as an allegory, a use of picturesque imagery and personified characters to express truths.

Regarding the account of the rich man and Lazarus, if it’s an allegory, it would slightly change our post-death chronology and topography of the afterlife. If in fact when we die we “soul sleep” until the resurrection, we go to the grave (to Hades or Sheol), but the faithful sleep in the Lord (Abraham’s bosom) awaiting resurrection, while the damned await the resurrection into the lake of fire. On these terms Jesus is ascribing sentiments and thoughts to the rich man which would be his upon his resurrection unto damnation.

Interesting that Lazarus says no words. Is he sleeping? And interesting that Abraham happens to be awake and conscious. But didn’t Jesus teach that Abraham had already resurrected at the time of the burning bush? (We’re getting time warpy here again! But look at Jesus’ argument to the Sadducees. He argues for the resurrection by citing the burning bush passage, where God says He’s the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Jesus says God is a God of the living. He makes this argument to prove the resurrection!)

In any event, if it is an allegory, what exactly is the allegory?

It could be an allegory of the Jews and Gentiles, one that Jesus repeatedly uses and perhaps dominates most of His parables. St. Paul, after all, refers to the inclusion of the Gentiles among the great mysteries of God’s revelation. The parable was Jesus’ instrument of revealing mysteries. As He said, “To you it has been given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God; but to those who are outside, all things come in parables.”

So, here’s the allegory. The Jews were the rich man. The purple clothing represented the Jewish status as “royal priests.” They had been blessed with an abundance of God’s riches. Interesting how often St. Paul uses the word “riches” when describing the blessings of God’s mercy, and at least in Romans, he usually does so in the context of discussing about Jews and Gentiles, as in “For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek, for the same Lord over all is rich to all who call upon Him.”

Meanwhile, the Gentiles were the beggars, as far as God’s gifts went. Here, the parallel is with the Canaanite woman, who like the beggar hoped only for bread crumbs to fall from the table. (You even have the “Gentile dogs” making an appearance.)

The table itself, and the fellowship going on there, is a big theme in the Gospel of Luke. Sitting at Christ’s table, at His supper, is to enjoy the riches of His mercy, heaven itself. Until Christ, that table was administered by the Jews. And how did they treat the Gentiles? Evidently like dogs, a posture Jesus mimicked when dealing with the Canaanite woman.

Another clue in the text is the language the rich man uses as he converses with Abraham. It’s extremely familial. Three times the rich man calls Abraham father, and once he refers to his own father. He also refers to his brother. Meanwhile Abraham calls him “son.” This is a family affair, a family of blood relations. Who calls Abraham father but the Jewish people, excluding Gentiles from that fatherhood? And who had to make the argument that Gentiles too were his children, but those taught by Christ about the new family “born from above” in Abraham’s starry bloodline?

For as St. Paul said, “Therefore know that only those who are of faith are sons of Abraham. And the Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, preached the gospel to Abraham beforehand, saying, ‘In you all the nations shall be blessed.’ ”

Jesus demonstrated how the Jews should have been with their riches, something St. Paul alludes to when he writes, “Indeed you are called a Jew, and rest on the law, and make your boast in God, and know His will, and approve the things that are excellent, being instructed out of the law, and are confident that you yourself are a guide to the blind, a light to those who are in darkness, an instructor of the foolish, a teacher of babes, having the form of knowledge and truth in the law.”

Jesus fulfilled what the Jews were intended to be, a light unto the Gentiles. Instead, because of their abuse of the law and reliance on man’s traditions in interpreting the law, they excluded the Gentiles outside the gates. Of course, lots is going on with the gates as well. “And the Levite, because he has no portion nor inheritance with you, and the stranger and the fatherless and the widow who are within your gates, may come and eat and be satisfied, that the LORD your God may bless you in all the work of your hand which you do.”

So, as far as salvation goes, the Jews were excluded from Abraham’s bosom, separated by the gulf. What exactly is Abraham’s bosom? It’s actually the figurative place of Jewish burial, the place from which the resurrection would happen. This is why it was so important to be buried in the land of Israel, because that was Abraham’s promised land, and so literally, his bosom, from where the sons of the resurrection would be “born from above.”

Perhaps the strongest clue to this interpretation is that Abraham says, “If they do not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rise from the dead.” This was the Jews’ problem. They did not properly hear Moses and the prophets, who taught sharing the riches of God’s grace with the Gentiles, nor did they even hear “though one rise from the dead,” who was Jesus Himself.

Or, interestingly, perhaps Jesus was even referencing the real life Lazarus, who in fact did rise from the dead, but whose existence evidently still didn’t convince the Jews. Rather, as we are told, “But the chief priests plotted to put Lazarus to death also, because on account of him many of the Jews went away and believed in Jesus.”

Was that Lazarus a Gentile? Probably not, but it could very well be Jesus is using him as a symbol of the blessings God is bestowing on all people through the resurrection, and just as the Jews wanted him dead, they wanted to keep the Gentiles in the deadness of their sins.

The argument that this Gospel is an allegory in fact has lots of justification. Whether it is an allegory or not, the fact that Jesus’ Word has an unfathomable depth of meaning which can be eternally tapped, in so many ways, only proves its divinity, and His.

Last meditation, we contemplated how the Lazarus account pours Christ into all the broken situations on earth, redeeming those situations, providing hope that the abandoned are not forgotten, or that evil will remain unchallenged. This Gospel gives a name for all the Lazaruses in the world, while showing us that all the “rich men” of the world (understand what’s meant in the context of the Gospel) will get their comeuppance.

Left alone, this could imply that the poor Afghani child strapped to a bomb and sent into a coffee chop will be saved because his situation is pathetic. I can hear someone say, “But that boy didn’t know Christ! Therefore he would die and go to hell. Same also with crack babies.”

Of course, there’s a basic logic to that thinking. Only those who believe and are baptized shall be saved. There is no evidence of faith in these situations, and definitely no baptizing. On what basis could they be saved?

And against those who say, “Would God really send these children to hell?”, the response usually boils down to God’s justice. Man has sinned against God and all those born of man retain the curse unto eternal damnation. As Jesus says, “he who does not believe is condemned already.” And as St. John commented, “He who believes in the Son has everlasting life; and he who does not believe the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him.”

So, if God does send those children to hell, He’s justified in doing so. Sin is with us from conception, and all of us are born “children of wrath.” And against those who would say, “Yeah, but they never had a chance! How fair is that?”, the response can be given in shades of Calvinism, “God in His glory can do whatever He wants. Why are some saved and others not? Because God in His sovereign wisdom does what He does.”

This is why I’m not a Calvinist, because it begins with the premise of God’s sovereignty and not from His love. A Trinitarian premise begins with God’s love, for love is the essence of God’s eternal action, as the Father has been eternally begetting the Son, and the Son has eternally been the object of the Father’s love. As the hymn goes, “Of the Father’s love begotten.”

Also, understanding God according to His love rather than from the perspective that He’s the big boss man in the sky who can do whatever he wants sets up the creation on a different footing. He created not “out of His glory,” but “out of His love.” He loves Self-generating. He loves begetting. His first command to man and woman was drenched in love, love for each other resulting in love for what they generated, “be fruitful and multiply.” That’s our God, and again, it’s drenched in love.

Love compelled God to reestablish the “self-generating flow of life” once Adam and Eve short-circuited it, by sending His Son as the Second Adam and setting up the Church as the second Eve, with which Christ has been fruitful and multiplied, as children of faith are begotten in water and Spirit.

Now, starting from a foundation of God’s love doesn’t mean ignoring His justice, or denying clear statements of His Word, or accepting the modern understanding of love, as acceptance and tolerance of anything and everything. But it does mean, perhaps, that we might be driven to different emphases in the Word of God than those emphases that Calvinism compels.

(What are those Calvinistic compulsions? Well, the main one is from Romans 9, summarized by “Therefore He has mercy on whom He wills, and whom He wills He hardens.” It’s hard to emphasize enough how much of a lodestar this chapter is for Calvinistic theology, as if there are no other candidates for this lodestar, or as if St. Peter never said that in Paul’s writings are “some things hard to understand, which untaught and unstable people twist to their own destruction, as they do also the rest of the Scriptures.” Goodness, you can’t get much harder than “All Israel will be saved,” given the wild goose chase this statement unleashed.)

So, what are some of those other emphases? Simple. God so loved the world…the world! Or as Jesus says right after that, “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.”

Here are some other verses:

“That was the true Light which gives light to every man coming into the world.”

“the gospel which you heard, which was preached to every creature under heaven,”

“And I, if I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all peoples to Myself.”

“I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people.”

“He who descended is also the One who ascended far above all the heavens, that He might fill all things.”

“And He put all things under His feet, and gave Him to be head over all things to the church, which is His body, the fullness of Him who fills all in all.”

There’s definitely a universal focus of the Lord’s salvation here that undermines the Calvinist idea that God sort of eeny-meeny-miny-moe’s it through the course of history, and well, if most of the world ends up in hell, tough beans. As long as God’s glory is kept intact.

That’s not how God revealed Himself in Christ. God revealed Himself in Christ as one who wanted to save the whole world, not condemn it.

That all being said, quite clearly “rich men” go to hell. And quite clearly, there is mass rejection of the Lord resulting in a lot of condemnation and wrath. Wrath, condemnation, judgment, worms not dying, unquenched lakes of fire are all clearly part of the Biblical teaching.

How, then, do we proceed? Who goes to hell if not those who do not believe in Jesus? And if that’s the case, what do we do with the Lazaruses in the world who never demonstrated faith in Jesus? And if that’s the case, what hope is there for those sad situations of the world, where crack babies die in misery and Afghani boys blow to bits, only to wake up in the next world engulfed in the flames of hell?

Wow!

I don’t think you have to be a universalist if you allow your Spirit-informed sense of love, mercy, and compassion to direct you to passages in Scripture that provide hope, like, “The LORD lifts up the humble; He casts the wicked down to the ground.” Or, “Blessed are you poor, For yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who hunger now, For you shall be filled.”

And Christians should have enough ability handling nuance to retain certain teachings without going off the deep end into liberal universalism or general liberal theology.

What about this? How about we leave a lot of mysteries simply to God’s wisdom? How about we trust several seemingly paradoxical statements, like (a) only those who believe and are baptized will be saved, (b) God is love, and loves the whole world, and wants to save the whole world, and in fact did save the whole world in Christ, (c) not a single “Lazarus-like” situation will go unnoticed by our Lord, but He will redeem every single one of them, lifting up the humble and casting down the proud.

How this all plays out, who knows. We can conjecture – my personal conjecture is that there’s a lot that will go on between death and resurrection, or maybe even after the resurrection before the final judgment – but in the end it’s all just that, conjecture. But abiding by the Biblical principles should be enough, trusting that God is a God of love who will ultimately act way more loving than we ever could. Like, as in, we won’t be there on judgment day saying, “Aww, C’mon God, that wasn’t very nice to that ancient Moabite baby his parents passed through the flames.  And you’ve just handed over to more flames.  Give him a chance!” To which God says, “NO! I am SOVEREIGN and shall do as I wish according to my glory!”

Here’s a twist. The Bible says the saints will sit on thrones and take part in the judgment. How would you judge if Jesus laid in your lap that Moabite baby and said, “Choose. Heaven or hell.” And you, hearing Jesus’ words in the background, “For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you”, well, how would you judge?

Perhaps Jesus was giving instructions for our role as judges on judgment day. Or perhaps Jesus is giving you the Moabite baby to baptize.

Again, who knows, but in the end we have those absolute principles we hold to. God is love. God saved the world. Only those who believe and are baptized will be saved. The Lazarus situations, all of them, will be redeemed as Christ judges the world in righteousness.

Back to Lazarus. Do we get any reason in the Gospel why he’s saved? The only indication of any theology governing Lazarus’ judgment is, in this world he had his evils, but now he’s comforted. Just as his being carried off by the angels into Abraham’s bosom is almost axiomatic, like, of course that’s what happens to those who suffer in this world.

If that’s the case, and if indeed, the Lord figures out in His wisdom how to give such people faith and baptism, why would we fight that, fighting for these people to be in hell? Really, why would we do that? I understand needing to be faithful to God’s Word, but if God’s Word provides other lodestars other than the Calvinistic one, why would we still cling to the one that paints a pretty miserable picture of God?

So it was that the beggar died…

What a sad story, at least a sad earthly story. Of course we know the happy ending – Lazarus went to Abraham’s Bosom. But leading up to that point, it was a sad story indeed.

What was Lazarus’ back story? What got him into those circumstances? What gets anyone into his circumstances? It sounds like Lazarus had some sort of physical ailment, the reason why he was “laid” at the gates and didn’t go there himself. It sounds like the community had some regard for him, as it was they who were gracious enough to lay him there. It seems there was some sort of assumption about social obligations, that the rich man’s duty was to help poor Lazarus, else the community would not have laid him there. The community, in other words, understood what we meditated on yesterday, that the Lord blesses some with wealth, to be used for others.

But what got Lazarus into those circumstances in the first place? Was it a mishap – he fell off a ladder while building a house? Did his family pass away? Was he ever married? Did he do things to put himself in those circumstances?

These questions are sort of like the one the disciples asked Jesus about the blind man, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

To which, Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him. I must work the works of Him who sent Me while it is day; the night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

The blind man, Lazarus, and all of us in our fallen condition, are the “stuff” of creation, the material from which God is creating the creation. Remember, the passage above, coupled with Jesus’ final words from the cross, “It is finished,” suggest God’s creation wasn’t fully complete until Jesus died on the cross. That means Jesus’ death was a “from the foundation of the world” event to which God’s initial completion of creation on the sixth day referred.

The theory underlying this mystery is that, when God created the world, Jesus and His cross were not “Plan B,” but the plan all along. God worked Christ and the cross into the DNA of creation, part of the reason why He added “and evil” to a creation that had originally known only good, when He put the tree of the knowledge of good “and evil” in the midst of the garden. He knew what Adam would do. He knew the evils which would be unleashed by Adam’s sin. Yet, in His unfathomable wisdom, this was all part of the process of bringing about the creation properly.

I’ve used this reference before, but on any given day of creation, the Lord was separating one thing from another. There was a point at which his final creation of each day wasn’t fully formed, sort of “half done.” Half light/half darkness. Half land/half water. What if the same is true with man? And not in the sense that Adam at one point was mud in the shape of a man, and then the spirit of life brought him into being, but that even after that, he wasn’t fully formed until Christ came, introduced faith, died on the cross, and rose from the dead? Is not the Church something called out of the world, like the Holy Spirit separating something out of the muck and mire to give it life?

“But what about God’s statement that everything was very good at the end of creation? Or that He had finished everything on the sixth day?” True, but remember God’s time. He’s eternal, above time, which is how the event of Christ’s death can be “from the foundation of the world.” It’s also why the writer to the Hebrews could speak of the seventh day rest as something yet to attain.

In His wisdom, man wasn’t fully complete until Jesus’ death. The likes of the blind man or Lazarus are “half formed” beings, as we all are, “that the works of God should be revealed in him.”

This is interesting in theory, but in practice it becomes harsh. Who wants to be that last remaining bit of sludge the Lord is forming into His creation for the day, half sludge, half life? But then again, the Lord’s gift is “The last shall be first.”

And the Lord fills that “sludginess” with meaning as well. Sludge turning to life is not nothing. Read Psalm 88. It’s the single Psalm with no hope. Because sometimes life has no hope. There’s no happy endings. It’s just, laid at the gates, and “so it was that the beggar died.” And that’s that. How many situations are like that in the world? How many sad, lonely, pathetic situations involving children, widows, the maimed, and the lame populate our world? Crack babies, children with bombs strapped to them, orphans caught up into the sex trade, and on and on.

But in our Lord’s wisdom, this is indisputably the way things are, and there are indisputably situations like that. Does He create Lazaruses and blind men to be gifts for others? Is it a reflection of His own nature, that Father-Son, Giver-Beggar binary we contemplated yesterday? Every rich man needs his Lazarus to manifest a soul perfected in Christ?

Whatever the case, our Lord redeems it, because He Himself was Lazarus on the cross. Abandoned, naked, pathetic. And they that receive Him as He comes on the cross inherit life. What is it to “receive Him” but to receive “the least of these my brethren” whom He sends out, bearing their crosses?

Christ fills the pathetic situations with His presence, because He fills all things with His presence, and “He who descended is also the One who ascended far above all the heavens, that He might fill all things.” That includes the pathetic situations.

Of course, that He fills all things means after descent comes ascent. The Lord will lift up the pathetic, the humble, and the sad situations. That is His promise. There is no situation on earth, however pathetic, that will not be redeemed by our Lord. He rules in righteousness. He’s a Redeemer. Neither the evil will get away with evil, nor will the pathetic situations be left unanswered.

“There was a certain rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and fared sumptuously every day. But there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, full of sores, who was laid at his gate, desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table.”

The Lord gives His gifts in order to be given out in turn. “Be fruitful and multiply” was his first command to mankind. The nature of fruit is to burst in abundance. Giving gifts is essential to His Trinitarian nature, even as the Father has been eternally giving of Himself in the Son, by the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life.

Givers give to beggars. Why beggars? Because begging suggests a humble posture before the one who can give. Giving to those who don’t want what you have to give is fruitless. The Son of God, in a sense, has eternally looked up to His Father as the source of His existence, and has ever submitted to Him as such. As Jesus said, “I do nothing of Myself; but as My Father taught Me, I speak these things.”

Givers and beggars is binary seen in so much human interaction. What one has to give, another needs and must assume a posture of begging. This is true from the moment of birth and continues on at various levels throughout our days. “We are beggars, this is true,” said Luther at the end of his days, but the opposite is true as well, “We are givers, this is true.”

For whatever reason in His wisdom God brought the rich man and Lazarus together at the point of the rich man’s gates. There it was a relation of giver and beggar. But who was the giver and who was the beggar?

Obviously, at face value, the rich man was given much, to be able to give to the beggar. And this is true. But yet, he didn’t give out from his abundance, and here’s where things get interesting.

The rich man didn’t give because he had nothing to give. Of course he had all sorts of things to give, but he really didn’t have anything to give. He had set himself on a course to create heaven on earth. If heaven is understood as the place of eternal bliss and blessing, and one were to try to build that on earth, this will consume every fiber of one’s being to reach the unattainable.

The Scriptures warn against riches due to this “heaven on earth” temptation. The one seeking riches usually has the pride of self-deification, is harsh toward others as he knows what he selfishly wants and goes for it, has a false sense of security due to it, and worries once he has it. He has no time or even thought of caring for others; he’s too busy deifying himself! Or put another way, again, he has nothing to give.

Meanwhile, there’s a proverb that says,“There is one who makes himself rich, yet has nothing; And one who makes himself poor, yet has great riches.”

Whereas the rich man in this week’s Gospel, arguably, had nothing to give in his poverty, the one who by worldly standards is “poor,” can give freely from his great riches. What riches? Whatever one has in abundance need not be monetary. God gives gifts to everyone, and He calls us to “freely give” out of what He has given us. That could be time, prayers, care, a listening ear, artwork, baked goods, construction skills, and whatever else. Again, all the world is set up in that giver/beggar binary. Everyone has something to give.

Yes, even Lazarus. Goodness, Lazarous more than just about anyone. Consider what Jesus has done with the name Lazarus. Lazarus has become the golden ticket! To prove this, do this thought experiment. Imagine if you could go back in time to the days of Lazarus, and you saw him at the gates. Would you not feed him? Has not Lazarus just become an incredible gift to you? You can feed the person the rich man ignored! Heaven will rejoice over your goodness, and Christ will be pleased with you. How is that not the ultimate gift?

Lazarus had tons to give out, just as Jesus, the ultimate beggar, has much to give out at His ultimate moment of ultimate begging: “I thirst.” He who receives Jesus in His ultimate humiliation receives the Father Himself. Or as the proverb says, bringing this back to Lazarus, “He who oppresses the poor reproaches his Maker,” which if true makes the converse true, “He who helps the poor helps his Maker,” which sounds an awful lot like what Jesus teaches as well. “He who receives you [the one I send out without food and clothing] receives Me.”

Lazarus lay at the gates as the gateway to heaven for those who would help him, for to help him was to serve the Lord. Meanwhile, the rich man had an opportunity to be the hand of God for Lazarus, to be that giver, reflecting the “Father” side of the giver/beggar binary. Instead, he showed his ultimate poverty.

Sure, the rich man had a few good days of pleasure, as the text says, but at what cost? By cutting himself off from the possibility of being a giver, he severed himself from that binary principle of the world rooted in the Trinity itself. He severed himself off from his life.

One of the most beautiful and powerful details about this Gospel is a simple but hidden one. Lazarus is named, but the rich man is not. This means that the name Lazarus has rung forth in the Church for 2,000 years, but every time the phrase “rich man” is uttered, the Church is reminded that his riches were temporary, and he himself is in hell.

As the Psalm says, “Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor. Surely every man walks about like a shadow; Surely they busy themselves in vain; He heaps up riches, And does not know who will gather them.” Or again from another Psalm, “As for man, his days are like grass; As a flower of the field, so he flourishes. For the wind passes over it, and it is gone, And its place remembers it no more.”

But for Lazarus another set of verses is appropriate: “If you confess me before men, I will confess you before my heavenly Father.” And, “He who overcomes shall be clothed in white garments, and I will not blot out his name from the Book of Life; but I will confess his name before My Father and before His angels.”

Couple these verses with what we’ve been meditating on for the past weeks, and we get something profound. We’ve been meditating how worship is heaven on earth, how the Holy Spirit fills our faith with a palpable vision of our existential reality at God’s right hand, through the earthly testimonies of water and blood, the sacraments. Worship is indeed heaven on earth. So to say, “If you confess me before men, I’ll confess you before my heavenly Father,” is to “witness” all this in the divine service. Surely we confess the Lord’s name publicly before men, in the Creed. But are our names confessed before the Heavenly Father by Jesus in the divine service?

Well, we know Lazarus’ name is confessed, every time his Gospel comes up in the text. So also the Canaanite woman. But when is the one day each of our names is confessed before the Father, or when our names from the Book of Life are read? At least at Holy Baptism. But consider also the prayer of the Church, where the individual names of the saints are laid before the throne of God. Throughout our lives, our names are part of the liturgy.

The book of Numbers is often mocked for being the “begot” book of the Bible, with list after list of the people of Israel, so and so begetting so and so, and so on and so on. But imagine if your family name was among those names. Your family name is part of the Torah, read in the Hebrew temple in the presence of God. Surely that is a book of life, to have your name brought to the Lord’s remembrance. And that’s what it is, causing your name to not be forgotten, but remembered.

Now, let’s look at Lazarus’ name, because this is interesting as wel.

Lazarus means “One whom God has helped.” This is divine irony. Lazarus, by worldly standards, is the farthest thing from someone whom God has helped. Yet, that is his name. Clearly, in the world to come, God did help him, and his name was fulfilled.

Which is to say, the Lord builds His people into the names He gives them. He did this with Abraham, for instance. God gave Abraham his name, which means “Father of many,” when he was the father of none. And even at his death, he was the father of one. Yet, Abraham has had as many children as the stars of the sky, children of God born from above. God built Abraham into the name he gave him.

Same also with Peter. Peter was originally Simon, but Jesus gave him the name “Peter,” meaning “rock.” Yet, Peter was not very rock-like when a little girl’s query caused him to deny Jesus three times. Still, Peter went on to become a rock of the Church, as his Pentecostal sermon proved to be.

What name has been given us? What name is the Lord building us into?

That name is His own name, the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. This is the name put on our foreheads. It’s the name we inherit in Christ. It’s the name the Lord cannot deny, for He cannot deny His own name. As the Lord says in Isaiah, “Everyone who is called by My name, Whom I have created for My glory; I have formed him, yes, I have made him.” (The prophets are loaded with that theme, that the Lord acts for “His names’ sake” as in “Then you shall know that I am the LORD, when I have dealt with you for My name’s sake, not according to your wicked ways nor according to your corrupt doings, O house of Israel,” says the Lord GOD.’ ”)

The Lord is forming us into His name, forming us in Christ, forming in us our heavenly existential reality. The Trinity is at work in this, working His name for us. The Spirit lifts our minds above, filling our faith with that existential reality. The Son is the one in whom we have this reality. The Father is or Maker and Source.

This is the name into which we have been born, the name into which we grow, and the name the Lord will bring to fruition. But our individual names are part of this equation, insofar as our names are wrapped in the divine name of God: “So and So, I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” In this sense, Lazarus is a stand in for all of us, for all of us are “ones whom God has helped.”

But the critical thing to keep in mind, is that the promise is for the world to come. This side of heaven may bring nothing but suffering, and the dogs. It’s a tough truth, but a very real truth for many, many people.

For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.

Evangelicals who use this as a “Gospel in a nutshell” conveniently forget a context which alludes to Holy Baptism, the foundation for liturgical worship, and arguably Holy Communion. How so?

Because the entire flow of the Gospel is how we must be born from above in order to “see” the kingdom of God. This happens through water and the spirit, where these earthly testaments manifest heavenly realities, via the one who came down from heaven and will soon be “lifted up” as the pierced one, a moment testified by water, blood, and spirit, or baptism, communion, and absolution.

The liturgical element is insofar as the entire moment of “looking at the pierced one” occurs as we witness the “kingdom of God” by the Holy Spirit, who communicates into our faith a vision of heavenly realities, making real our existential reality at God’s right hand.

Simply put, as we look to baptism as the foundation of faith, receive the Holy Spirit through absolution, and look to the Sacrament, we see the pierced one, our bronze serpent. And this is everything that sets up the famous “For” in “For God so loved the world.”

We forget that little “For.” John 3: 16 is not a standalone text. It is not a “nutshell.” If someone wants a Gospel in a nutshell, you probably can’t do better than, “This is my Body given for you; this cup is the new testament in my blood, given for you for the forgiveness of sins.”

But John 3: 16 has a deep context, invoking visions of heaven by faith, water, the work of the Holy Spirit, the wandering of Israel in the wilderness, the complaining about bread, the bronze serpent, Christ’s being “lifted up” and what that means, His “pierced” status.

Still, it is a beautiful passage, and if there might be a gripe against the traditional emphasis on it, it might be because it’s very often used to highlight faith, as in “that whosoever believeth.” But again, it’s a “faith” ripped out of the greater context of “seeing” the kingdom of God, and “looking” at Him whom they have pierced, and being “born from above” by water and the spirit.

Rather, what retains its beauty in the passage is the bit about God so loving the world. He loves the world as He loves His Son, whom He lifted up and by lifting up drew all men to Him.

Jesus is the fullness of God’s creation. He is the one “who descended [and] is also the One who ascended far above all the heavens, that He might fill all things.” This is “His body, the fullness of Him who fills all in all.”

God loves the creation because the creation is created in Christ, “For by Him all things were created that are in heaven and that are on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers. All things were created through Him and for Him.”

At the cross, the creation was finished. Until then the creation groans with Christ until the new creation is given birth, which comes by water, blood, and spirit, which is the foundation of the Church, which is emergence of the New Creation in time.

Again from an above verse, but in greater context, read carefully: “(He who descended is also the One who ascended far above all the heavens, that He might fill all things.) And He Himself gave some to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ, till we all come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ; that we should no longer be children, tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the trickery of men, in the cunning craftiness of deceitful plotting, but, speaking the truth in love, may grow up in all things into Him who is the head – Christ – from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by what every joint supplies, according to the effective working by which every part does its share, causes growth of the body for the edifying of itself in love.

The love of God in Christ, in Whom God loves the whole creation, is manifest in time as God draws people to Christ, the pierced one, through the three earthly testimonies, water, blood, and spirit. That, again, is the Church’s ministry, the manifestation of the new creation in time, by faith, through the earthly testaments. When Jesus says, “Abide in my love,” He means, “Abide in these earthly testaments.” This is the basis, after all, for understanding Holy Communion as a “love feast,” and its roll in leading us to have “fervent love for one another.”

No greater love has anyone than to give up His life for another, and what is Holy Communion? “Given and shed for you.”

The second beautiful element of John 3: 16 is the bit about being saved from God’s wrath. Those who look to the pierced one who manifests by the three earthly testimonies (water, blood, and spirit), and receive these by faith so that they have a vision of heaven on earth, are spared God’s wrath. Why? Because they are born of the water and the spirit, and one of the Holy Spirit’s tasks is to convince the world that it’s wrong about sin, righteousness, and judgment.

Sin is not believing in Jesus. Righteousness is Jesus at the right hand of the Father. And Judgment is Satan being tossed out of heaven. Those who are drawn to the pierced one, who sits at God’s right hand, are drawn to their righteousness. Their sin is not that they sin here and there, for there is absolution for this sin. But they have avoided the “sin unto death,” which is to not believe in Jesus. And their Accuser, who accuses them day and night, is thrown out of heaven.

This was the whole reason why Jesus came, that “the world through Him might be saved.”

And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.

Jesus references the “bronze serpent” episode in the Old Testament. Israel was complaining about the food God was feeding them with – specifically, it says, they “loathed” the “worthless bread” God sent them – so God sent serpents to kill them. Moses interceded, so God had Moses make a bronze serpent, so that whoever looked at the serpent would not perish.

So also must the Son of Man be lifted up. Is this talking about Jesus’ death or His ascension? Based on the other big reference to this “being lifted up,” Jesus is referring to His death. “ ‘And I, if I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all peoples to Myself.’ ” This He said, signifying by what death He would die.”

Yet, here’s another instance where Jesus talks about being lifted up: “When you lift up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am He, and that I do nothing of Myself; but as My Father taught Me, I speak these things.”

What great thing is revealed at Jesus’ death, so that those who lifted Him up, the Jews, would know that He is the Christ? Or that Jesus is the Son of God?

Well, let’s go to John’s Gospel and find out: “[O]ne of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, and immediately blood and water came out. And he who has seen has testified, and his testimony is true; and he knows that he is telling the truth, so that you may believe. For these things were done that the Scripture should be fulfilled, ‘Not one of His bones shall be broken.’ And again another Scripture says, ‘They shall look on Him whom they pierced.’ ”

Water and blood coming out of Jesus is the great testimony of something. We need to reference this passage from John’s epistle again: “This is He who came by water and blood – Jesus Christ; not only by water, but by water and blood. And it is the Spirit who bears witness, because the Spirit is truth….there are three that bear witness…: the Spirit, the water, and the blood; and these three agree as one.”

The element of the Spirit comes from this passage of St. John, just at Jesus’ death: “He said, ‘It is finished!’ And bowing His head, He gave up His spirit.” As it is written in the Psalm, “What You give them they gather in; You open Your hand, they are filled with good. You hide Your face, they are troubled; You take away their breath, they die and return to their dust. You send forth Your Spirit, they are created; And You renew the face of the earth.”

This Psalm binds several loose ends together. The Psalm is about how God provides food, and the faithful all “wait for You, That You may give them their food in due season.” Israel in the wilderness was not faithful, and complained about God’s food, as did Israel in Jesus’ wilderness, when He taught about the bread of life. When that happens, God hides His face, as Jesus did in John 8.

But when God sends forth His Spirit again, “they are created” and the Lord renews the “face of the earth.” And this happened at the cross.

We’ve wondered whether this “It is finished” is the actual completion of the creation, or rather, the eschatological completion of the creation. Keep in mind Jesus’ death was from the foundation of the world, as we read, “All who dwell on the earth will worship him, whose names have not been written in the Book of Life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.”

The lamb slain is the foundation of the world, the event releasing the Holy Spirit, along with water and blood, which testify to the truth for all to see, so that everyone who looks at these things will live.

On these terms, Jesus’ exaltation to the right hand of the Father is simply an extension of His cross, for it was there too that He released the Holy Spirit, to come on Pentecost and begin the renewing of the face of the earth. You might say, what happened eschatologically at the cross began to be administered in time with Jesus’ sitting at God’s right hand, hence, “Do not cling to Me, for I have not yet ascended to My Father; but go to My brethren and say to them, ‘I am ascending to My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God.’ ”

With the beginning of the administration of Christ’s cross in time, eyes begin to turn toward Jesus’ cross. Jews who formerly “lifted Him up” now tremble and say, “What shall we do?” Eventually, Jesus tells us, all eyes will look on Him whom they have pierced.

This we learn from Zachariah, “And I will pour on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem the Spirit of grace and supplication; then they will look on Me whom they pierced. …In that day a fountain shall be opened for the house of David and for the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for sin and for uncleanness.”

Clearly this is the day of Pentecost, when the eyes that looked on the pierced one were given a spirit of grace and supplication – “What shall we do?” “And you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2: 37-38) – followed by baptism. This is when people began to look at the one who was lifted up, the pierced one who is now the ascended one, the Lamb of God who sits at God’s right hand, the “Lamb as though it had been slain.”

And the testimony of the pierced one is the spirit, the water, and the blood. Holy Absolution, Holy Baptism, and Holy Communion. Here is where we look on Him who has been lifted up.

Most assuredly, I say to you, We speak what We know and testify what We have seen, and you do not receive Our witness. If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how will you believe if I tell you heavenly things? No one has ascended to heaven but He who came down from heaven, that is, the Son of Man who is in heaven.

This passage is the punch line of Trinity Sunday. It’s why this Gospel has gone with Trinity Sunday. The “We” is capitalized for a reason, because it’s a reference to the Holy Trinity.

Jesus sets up the situation in this passage. No one has ascended to heaven, but He who came down from heaven. Only Jesus (and of course He with Whom He is one, the Holy Spirit) has a witness of the heavenly mysteries.

This states verbally what the book of Revelation describes in picture language: “And I saw in the right hand of Him who sat on the throne a scroll written inside and on the back, sealed with seven seals. …And no one in heaven or on the earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll, or to look at it. …And I looked, and behold, in the midst of the throne and of the four living creatures, and in the midst of the elders, stood a Lamb as though it had been slain, having seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven Spirits of God sent out into all the earth. Then He came and took the scroll out of the right hand of Him who sat on the throne. …And they sang a new song, saying: ‘You are worthy to take the scroll, And to open its seals; For You were slain, And have redeemed us to God by Your blood Out of every tribe and tongue and people and nation, And have made us kings and priests to our God; And we shall reign on the earth.’”

“We shall reign on earth.” There’s our “see the kingdom of God” once being born from above through earthly water. In any event we see here the biblical context of the liturgical canticle, “This is the Feast.” It’s a celebration that Jesus has revealed the divine mysteries, causing us to be born from above and receive a vision, by the Holy Spirit, of the Kingdom of God, so that we reign even on earth. As St. Paul writes at the end of Romans, “And the God of peace will crush Satan under your feet shortly.”

Interesting, but reference to a “new song” suggests there’s an “old song.” What is the old song? The “old song” also centered on a new people created through water, the Song of Moses, inspired after Israel crossed the Red Sea. But, as John writes, “For the law was given through Moses, but grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” Something “new” came through Jesus; a “new” song is penned, and revealed, as well.

God’s purpose in liberating Israel from Egypt – instigating the “old song” – was that they might “serve” Him in the wilderness. As He said, “You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to Myself. Now therefore, if you will indeed obey My voice and keep My covenant, then you shall be a special treasure to Me above all people; for all the earth is Mine. And you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.’”

You shall be a kingdom. And a kingdom they were made once passing through the waters, ruled by God Himself. It was truly the “Kingdom of God.” As the “old song” of Moses sang, “Your right hand, O LORD, has become glorious in power; Your right hand, O LORD, has dashed the enemy in pieces. … You will bring [the people whom you have purchased] in and plant them In the mountain of Your inheritance, In the place, O LORD, which You have made For Your own dwelling, The sanctuary, O LORD, which Your hands have established. The LORD shall reign forever and ever.”

Yes, reign forever and ever. That, again, is the Kingdom of God, which, upon a new situation (Jesus the bringer of grace and truth in fulfillment of Moses’ Law) comes with a new song and is seen upon being born of water and the spirit. Passing through another Red Sea!

So what’s new about the “new song” that wasn’t there in the “old song” of Moses? What’s new is exactly what Jesus said, “No one has ascended to heaven but He who came down from heaven, that is, the Son of Man who is in heaven.”

That is, in Moses’ old song, we get hints of Trinitarian characters. We hear of a “right hand” which has become glorious and has dashed the enemy. We get hints of a “purchasing,” a redemption, going on. Of course just previous to this event we had a hint of this lamb’s blood which protected Israel from God’s wrath.

In the new song, given with the new vision, filled by the Holy Spirit, who bears witness of the heavenly restoration of Christ at God’s right hand – the scroll sitting at God’s right hand – we are given a full revelation of the mystery of the Holy Trinity at work for our salvation. That’s what’s new about the new song – the Holy Trinity had been fully revealed, and bestowed in the waters of Holy Baptism. This is “the mystery which has been hidden from ages and from generations, but now has been revealed to His saints.”

And just as the book of Revelation is a vision of how, even in the midst of a world of suffering and persecution, Christ reigns forever and ever, and He is engineering everything for the glorious triumph of His people, so do we receive this vision by faith. We see the kingdom of God!

A study of the “new song” in Scripture tells us other things are going on with the new song, that makes it new relative to the “old song” of Moses.

Psalm 96 tells us all the earth will sing it, not just Israel. Psalm 98, referencing the new song, tells us “All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God.” Isaiah 42, same theme: “Sing to the LORD a new song, And His praise from the ends of the earth.”

Evidently the “new song” sounds “like the voice of many waters, and like the voice of loud thunder. And I heard the sound of harpists playing their harps.” Hmmm, many waters and loud thunder; water and sound; water and Spirit. Along with harps, referencing Psalm 144, “I will sing a new song to You, O God; On a harp of ten strings I will sing praises to You.”

The New Song is a Trinitarian anthem confessing how Christ manifests the great things going on at God’s right hand, what He has done to save us from our sins, and how we reign before the throne, even on earth. In the New Song, Jew and Gentile alike “Sing to the LORD, bless His name; Proclaim the good news of His salvation from day to day.”

It is the sound of many waters and thunderous sound, water and Spirit. It’s the song of victory having passed through these waters, these waters which have buried our enemies and given us new life.

It is a witness on earth of what is in heaven, a witness expressed through the word, as Jesus says, “We speak what We know and testify what We have seen.”

I would challenge anyone to study what the Scriptures teach about the New Song, and explain to me if there is a better fulfillment of the New Song in the world today than what is given in the Divine Liturgy. The liturgy is a testimony of heaven on earth, of God’s people from all nations glorifying His name (Gloria Patri) and confessing the great things going on at His right hand (Gloria in Excelsis), proclaiming the good news of salvation (sermon; creed), all centered on Christ’s redemption in His blood (absolution; communion), and all founded on the many waters from which the Voice of the Lord has called forth His new creation (invocation of baptismal name).

“The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Nicodemus answered and said to Him, “How can these things be?” Jesus answered and said to him, “Are you the teacher of Israel, and do not know these things? Most assuredly, I say to you, We speak what We know and testify what We have seen, and you do not receive Our witness. If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how will you believe if I tell you heavenly things?”

As a teacher of Israel, there are things Jesus was saying to Nicodemus that he was supposed to recognize. Jesus would be teaching “heavenly” things in a moment – for He was the only one who had descended from heaven and could represent the Trinitarian witness – but up to this point, evidently, He was teaching earthly things Nicodemus should have recognized.

So what were the teachings Nicodemus was supposed to recognize? As a “teacher of Israel,” of course, Jesus was referring to the Torah and its teachings. What does the Torah say that resonates with what Jesus had just taught Nicodemus. Well, let’s review those teachings and see which ones match up with Torah teachings:

(1) Only those born from above will see the kingdom of God
(2) Born from above means born of water and the spirit
(3) Those born of the Spirit hear a sound they don’t know where it comes from, which is the cause of their being born from above

As to the first point, we see right in the beginning how Adam was “born from above” as God mixed the mist with dust and added “from above” His Spirit, and the first thing Adam saw was God’s realm, His kingdom, which He shared with Adam (and Eve).

The second point, being born of water and the spirit, finds parallels from the beginning as well. The Holy Spirit hovered over the waters before bringing forth the creation. Everything in the creation is “born” from the water and the spirit. And again after the flood, God sent “a wind” (which is the same word as “breath” or “spirit”) over the waters, to bring about the renewed creation.

The third point is a bit trickier. What are the sounds associated with the Spirit of life? The Spirit hovered over the waters, and then the first sound uttered, “Let there be light,” which came from seemingly nowhere, causes light to be “born from above, from God.” The first sound Adam heard was “Be fruitful and multiply,” which has strong allusions to Jesus’ teachings about birth. Adam, filled with the Spirit, names the animals. Here again goes forth a sound from one made in God’s image, from above.

In any event, all these details Nicodemus should have recognized. To be born from above involves the water, spirit, and sounds. And this seems to be the pattern of the creation account. Drawn out of the waters, the spirit giving life to something, and that newly created thing being given a name.

When the Lord said, after the fall, “My spirit will no longer abide with man,” this was a problem. The main “ingredient” to man as a “living being” was removed, causing man to return to the dust, as the water evaporated out of him. The Spirit as the actor, the giver of life. Without Him, the other materials remain inert.

That passage can also be translated, “My spirit will no longer strive with man.” What is it about the sustaining necessity of the Spirit’s life-giving work that is so closely associated with the Spirit striving with man?

I think it goes back to the idea that the Spirit is a sword. The natural entropy of man is to return to the dust. Satan’s motto – “Do what thou wilt” – is really an anthem toward entropy, to follow our inner compulsions toward nothingness. The work of the Holy Spirit is often revealed as a burden, a wrestling with God, a taking up of the cross. Even the reference to those skilled in fine arts – who crafted the tabernacle – as “full of the spirit” suggests the burdens inherent in learning any craft.

It also speaks to the truth that being born of God involves labor pains. We contemplated this truth yesterday. Jesus talks about giving birth at the cross; St. Paul talks about the creation groans in labor pains until the sons of God are revealed; he also talks about the labor of forming Christ in his hearers.

It’s a jolt to the system to be born from above and grow into conformity with our adopted status. From the moment the baby screams out at the cold waters of baptism, to the sacrifices one makes to get to church and catechism class, to the alienation Christians feel for what they believe, to the difficult teachings we struggle with our whole lives, to the sins we have to put to death time and time again, being “born from above” is a burden.

And these burdens all center on the word. The word is a burden to the prophets. The pastor’s stole is a symbol of the burden. The yoke of this burden has been lightened by Christ, who fulfills it for us, but it’s still a yoke, and a burden. It is “work” to draw out of the waters the creatures. It is “work” to give birth. Only the seventh day is a rest from this.

In the meantime, what is it in us that keeps us going? What is it that says “Get up and go to church”? What is it that says compels us to pursue the difficult, righteous path – to love our enemies, to respond to cursing with blessing, to pray for bad governments, to bring peace between neighbors, etc. – when every cell in our body says “Do what thou wilt?” Is it not the Spirit? And where does that come from? Who knows, but we hear the sound of it. It’s the sound of the Holy Spirit activating Jesus’ words, bringing them to remembrance, compelling the new life in the new creation.

Nicodemus at least should have gotten those basics down, how the Holy Spirit has been doing this work from the beginning, working through water and the word. Ironically, the one thing Nicodemus did get right, the “heavenly witness” Jesus is about to teach, was something he perhaps inadvertently said when he called Jesus “teacher come from God.” Jesus had good things to work with.

Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again.’ The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

I’ve referenced this little test I like to do but I’ll reference it again. Fill in the blank: “The Holy Spirit is like the wind. You can’t tell where it’s coming from but you can ____ it.” I’ve commented how most people will answer “feel.” It’s wrong, as the above passage (from which the test comes) makes clear. The Holy Spirit is like the wind because you hear it.

Everywhere Jesus teaches the Holy Spirit, He is a sound, and not just feel good, experienced babble that’s indistinguishable from what you feel like you need to do, but very clear, taught words. On Pentecost, He appeared like the sound of rushing wind. Then St. Peter taught the Gospel based on Old Testament readings, Psalms, and the Creed. We’ve had posts meditating how the Holy Spirit is a teacher.

Of course, the image of the Word of God as the Sword of the Spirit comes up several times in the New Testament. Here is a good example that sets the tone: “For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.”

Already in the beginning, we see the “Spirit as sword” work going on, as the Holy Spirit divided one thing from another. He’s like a knife carving through the chaos and void, separating one thing from another and giving it a word. Even the word for “Holy” in “Holy Spirit,” from the Hebrew “qodesh,” has the meaning of “to set aside” through a process of dividing.

Another interesting word is “min,” often translated as “kind” as in “each according to its kind.” Here is a comment on that word from a footnote in my book, Gnostic America:

The Hebrew mîn has a debatable meaning, but in general it denotes the intelligible crafting of distinct beings through a process of separating one thing from another. “Ludwif Koehler would have it come from the noun temûnâ ‘form’ with some such meaning as ‘to think out’ or to invent.” Skinner’s International Critical Commentary on Genesis rejects this line of reasoning and selects rather an Arabic root meaning ‘to split (the earth in plowing),’ with the resulting idea of dividing.” Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament: Volume 1, edited by R. Laird Harris, Gleason L. Archer, Jr., and Bruce K. Waltke (Chicago: Moody Press, 1980), 505.

The Holy Spirit is a divider. But the Word is a divider as well, and it is precisely in that dividing, by the Word, that we are born from above, and Christ is formed in us, as St. Paul describes it.

Think how the word has the ability to carve out of the unknown truth and clarity. Two people come in contact who have never met, and through words there literally is something created for them that previously did not exist. We could go on and on how this works at every level. Words used properly have the power to build worlds. A good coach with the power of words can create a winning attitude. Words shared by agricultural engineers has fed a world which has doubled in the last forty years, when everyone thought global hunger would rise. As we use words we reflect our divine image, even as Adam continued naming the things divided, as the Holy Spirit had done.

The words the Holy Spirit uses in the Church work similarly. As He declares to us our existential reality in Christ, who sits at God’s right hand in perfect fellowship, He creates in us a vision, a palpable cosmology, that manifests as the liturgy around the Sacrament. He separates from out of the world His Church, separates holy words from out of mundane words – words like “Holy, Holy, Holy,” the words of institution, the Kyrie, the words of the Gospel, the Our Father (of course) – and puts them on our lips, thus separating our praises out from the world and sanctifying them.

This is a cosmic architecture not unlike the ark. God taught Noah to build the ark, explaining in detail each part, and each part conformed to the laws of nature and the requirements of holding the remnant of creation, yet what a supremely heavenly meaning was going on: rescue from judgment and wrath, the new creation arising from the waters (like the first creation), salvation. The liturgy is a similar ark, a similar cosmic architecture, with similar features.

And like the ark, whose borders had the exact contours of that which lifted them above the waters, so does our ark have the exact contours of that which lifts us above the waters, and that is the divine name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, given in the waters, with the waters, and lifting us out of the judging waters into new life.

That name, those words, those Persons, lay the foundation for a life in the saving words of the liturgy. Again, it’s the Son lifting up our humanity to the Father’s right hand, restoring our own humanity, and this communicated to us by the Lord and Giver of life, the Holy Spirit. That is our salvation. That is what creates life. Adam being in fellowship with God was life. Adam rejecting that fellowship was death. Christ, the second Adam, restoring it is life again.

Now, here’s the thing about cosmic architecture created by the Word. The one who responds to it must conform his way of being to the rules of its architecture. This need not sound “legalistic,” but simple. If you build a second floor, you can walk ten feet in the air and dare not walk five feet in the air…because you can’t. Where your room is dictates how you must walk to get to it. We could go on and on about how the decor of a room calls for a certain attitude.

Have you ever had a conversation that “held” you in a certain place, in a certain mood, as if for a moment you were in a different place? That, again, is the power of the word. How much more when it’s the Holy Spirit’s word!

Well, consider how in a wholesome household, where wholesome and good words are spoken, the children grow in that wholesomeness from the beginning. That wholesomeness literally creates them, causing them to conform to the cosmic architecture created by those words in that house.

The same is true with the liturgy. Everyone baptized inherits an entire cosmology which has arisen out of the waters from the simple name, “the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.” And he grows into it. That cosmology “does” the faith of the baptized. This is why there’s no problem understanding the faith of infants. They are the children Jesus scooped up, but never let go! You think they’ll grow in the faith?!

But if Jesus scooping up children was a great work, the apostles do greater works than this, because Jesus went to the Father, and sent the Holy Spirit, who by His word has carved out an ark which has created a new creation, a cosmic architecture that draws all who remain in it into conformity with it.