The Most Political Theme in the Gospels

One of the major objectives in my forthcoming book Politics, Economics, and New Testament Interpretation is to offer a political and economic reading of the New Testament that is in dialogue with the field of contemporary biblical scholarship. Over the past fifty years, our understanding of the gospels as texts, and the themes represented in those texts, has been radically transformed. Scholars now recognize that the gospels are examples of ancient Greek biographies, which are written with the goal of recounting the essence of their subjects in the hope that readers would either emulate or, if the subject is wicked, repudiate their behavior. Instead of the debates about the historicity of particular traditions found in the gospels, scholars have analyzed them as literary phenomena, emphasizing story dynamics, plot development, and main themes. The question is not, as it was for much of the modern era, whether Jesus actually said or did exactly what the gospel writers claim, but rather, following the genre of Greek biography, how the evangelists were concerned with conveying the gist or quintessence of Jesus. As scholars like James Dunn and Dale Allison have argued at length, the gospels were designed to give us an accurate impression of Jesus, so that, in the words of the fourth evangelist, their audiences “may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing [they] may have life in His name” (John 20:31). The final word of my book title is “Interpretation,” after all, and before I analyze the texts of the gospels I provide readers with an introductory chapter that is intended to orient them to the methods by which we read, interpret, and, for believers, apply the gospels.

One of the main themes that appear repeatedly throughout the gospels, so pervasive that it is entirely appropriate to call it the main theme, is the kingdom of God, or, as Matthew redacts it, the kingdom of Heaven. Medieval appropriations of Platonic spirit-matter dualism, along with a theological tradition that tended to privilege a disembodied afterlife, tended to leave interpreters with the impression that the kingdom of God was a place, namely “heaven,” which the righteous would enter upon death. That reading of the kingdom has been dealt a decisive blow, both in biblical scholarship and systematic theology. It is now widely (and correctly) recognized that the kingdom of God is a concept rooted deep in the soil of the Old Testament and refers not to an eternal state of disembodied bliss but rather the restoration of God’s rule over all creation. The kingdom of God, then, is about who rules both now and forever, and the gospels’ central claim is that the reign of God breaks into creation through the ministry of Jesus. The kingdom is no mere “spiritual” reality, divorced from the real world in which we live and breathe, but the active rule of God in which those who follow Jesus, God’s Messiah, participate in the present! The political implications of the kingdom of God are massive, and worked out in the gospels and the rest of the New Testament. I present below an edited sample of my section explaining the kingdom of God as a theme in the gospels, and I hope it helps you reflect on the political implications of the gospel tradition.

The Kingdom of God

There are several related expressions in the gospels which denote the kingdom of God: “the kingdom, kingdom of God, kingdom of heaven, kingdom of the Father, kingdom of Jesus, and kingdom of the Son of Man.” Each of these expressions has the same referent, so I will use them interchangeably. Of particular note is the phrase “kingdom of Heaven,” which is found nowhere in Mark or Luke but used almost exclusively by Matthew. The traditional explanation of this variant is compelling: Matthew was most likely composed for a Jewish audience that avoided using the proper name of God when possible out of respect for the Third Commandment. The phrase is directly equivalent, however, to “kingdom of God.”

The Greek term for “kingdom” is basileia, which can mean kingdom, reign, rule, or domain. While many Christians throughout history have taken the word basileia in a geographical sense as denoting a particular place, usually a heavenly afterlife, this doesn’t appear to be the primary way in which Jesus uses the term. Jesus envisions the kingdom as a state of God’s reign, not confined to a particular location but encompassing all of creation. Joel Green explains this dynamic in the gospels: “what happens most frequently with respect to God’s kingdom is that it is entered…with the result that people can be in…not far from…or out of the kingdom…imagine entering a sphere—that is, entering a field of influence, activity and/or operation—in this case, then, experiencing, identifying with, participating in, coming under the influence of, and joining the community formed in relation to God’s kingdom…God’s kingdom cannot be confined to a particular set of borders…because God’s rule is not subject to any geographical boundaries.” At the creation, God sat as king. Israel’s demand for a king was a rejection of the kingship of God. The prophets longed for a day when God would return to rule as king again.

This evidence all suggests that the “kingdom of God” should be understood as the rule or reign of God. When Jesus speaks of the kingdom, he is making the bold and audacious claim that God is finally coming back to rule, making good on His promises. Because of this we cannot depoliticize basileia. When Jesus uses the phrase he isn’t proposing a rule of God over individual hearts, facilitating a private “religious” experience which has no bearing on social, political, or economic realities. While the kingdom does make claims over individual lives, nothing in Second Temple Judaism or the ancient world would suggest this term can be understood in a private, religious sense. That line of interpretation imports anachronistic modern categories into ancient texts. Crossley and Myles, commenting on the kingdom, state, “the kingdom of God referred to an actual kingdom, ruled by God’s anointed…not a heavenly afterlife or ethereal vision as it has sometimes come to be understood through the Christian tradition.” God’s rule results in concrete consequences for the political loyalties of those who enter it. Only one king rightfully sits on the throne. The entire world must change as a result. Green agrees: “Jesus’ proclamation of the kingdom belonged thoroughly within the complexities of Second Temple Judaism, whose intertwined threads of religious, political and social interest could (and should) never be disentangled. God was coming as king, so the whole world would be set right.”

N.T. Wright summarizes the meaning of “kingdom of God” in the Second Temple period: “‘The kingdom of god,’ historically and theologically considered, is a slogan whose basic meaning is the hope that Israel’s god is going to rule Israel (and the whole world), and that Caesar, or Herod, or anyone else of their ilk, is not. It means that Torah will be fulfilled at last, that the Temple will be rebuilt and the Land cleansed…Israel’s god will rule her in the way he intends, through properly appointed persons and means…it clearly implies a new order in which Israel is vindicated, and then ruled over, by her god—and, by implication, in which the rest of the world is ruled in some way or other, whether for blessing or judgment, through Israel.” This is the constellation of themes, all informed by the Jewish Scriptures, that those who first heard Jesus would have associated with the coming kingdom of God. While Jesus is offering a new interpretation of the kingdom which challenges several prevailing first-century theories about how God will establish His rule, Jesus retains the essential components of this popular hope.

James Dunn agrees with Wright and Green’s assessment of the kingdom of God. Dunn identifies three aspects of the kingdom which most Jews of the Second Temple period would have accepted. First is the fundamental assumption that God is king of the entire world with His rule encompassing all of creation. Second, even though God is the one true king, only Israel presently acknowledges His kingship. The nations have either ignored or rejected Israel’s God, a situation which cannot be maintained in perpetuity. Finally, God will one day return to rule from Jerusalem, at which point His kingship would be manifested to the entire world. God’s reign, finally revealed through Jesus’s prophetic ministry, isn’t reducible to a private religious experience. With Judea under the direct rule of Roman governors and Galilee under Rome’s client Herod Antipas, the kingdom of God fueled dreams of liberation. The Romans didn’t accept Israel’s God and Herod was a sellout collaborator with the pagan imperialists. Oakman convincingly argues that rhetoric of the kingdom betrays a keen awareness of Israel’s political situation under Roman rule; this wasn’t to be Israel’s lot forever, and God would return to do something about it. Jesus, of course, radically redefines how God returns to rule and the consequences of restoration for those who hear him, but the political and economic repercussions are unavoidable.

In Luke 13:22–30, someone asks Jesus why only a few people are being rescued. Jesus responds by echoing Matthew 7:13–14, exhorting his interlocutor to enter through “the narrow door.” In the kingdom of God many will come from the ends of the earth to recline at the eschatological banquet with Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and the prophets. This group, however, will include people who were not expected to participate, and many who believe they have a place in the coming kingdom will be cast outside. Jesus concludes his saying with an ominous warning in Luke 13:30: “Behold, some are last who will be first and some are first who will be last.” Entering through the narrow door means accepting Jesus’s redefinition of basileia, which unexpectedly fulfills the promises God made to Israel in the Old Testament. Jesus follows this saying with a condemnation of Herod, the Pharisees, and Jerusalem in Luke 13:31–35. Those who hold political power expect to inherit the coming kingdom, but unless they repent and accept the prophetic proclamation of Jesus they won’t make it. God is bringing about His basileia in unexpected ways: “when Jesus spoke of the ‘reign’ or ‘kingdom’ of Israel’s god, he was deliberately evoking an entire story-line that he and his hearers knew quite well…[but] he was retelling this familiar story in such a way as to subvert and redirect its normal plot.”[1] The world is changing, and those currently in charge won’t be for long. God’s plans are finally coming to fruition; the dramatic climax of Israel’s Scriptures, foretold in the prophets, commences with the ministry of Jesus. The end had arrived.

[1] Wright, Victory, p. 199.