Treasures Old and New: The Danger of Hell for Theologians
Installation Sermon
Dr. Brian Lugioyo, Ph.D.
Dean of the School of Theology and Seattle Pacific Seminary at
Seattle Pacific University
September 9, 2021
“‘Have you understood all this?’ They answered, ‘Yes.’ And he said to them, ‘Therefore every scribe who has been discipled for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.’ When Jesus had finished these parables, he left that place.”
(Matthew 13:51-53, NRSV)
Scribes are curators of words. They are teachers. They love language and the ways in which turns of phrases might awaken wonder. Our roles as theology faculty aligns us with this scribal work. Most of our work is with words. We read them, copy them, speak them, write them. We are scribes. And as scribes we have chosen, perhaps, the most dangerous of professions.
Let me explain.
I’ve never gone through an entire theology or ethics class without a student wanting me to elaborate on hell. Usually because some part of my lecture felt like I was opening a door too wide, or lectures were challenging previously held perspectives. And so someone will inevitably ask me, “What is your view of hell?”
I answer that I don’t like talking about hell because when I do I preach to a mirror. I tell them that hell is a significant conversation piece for Jesus, and that he seems to direct those conversations on hell toward those who are meant to curate and teach the faith to others. Jesus has a special place in mind for some of the pharisees and scribes of his day, and today.
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you build the tombs of the prophets and decorate the graves of the righteous, and you say, ‘If we had lived in the days of our ancestors, we would not have taken part with them in shedding the blood of the prophets.’ Thus you testify against yourselves that you are descendants of those who murdered the prophets. Fill up, then, the measure of your ancestors. You snakes, you brood of vipers! How can you escape being sentenced to hell?” (Matthew 23:29-33 NRSV).
Woe to you scribes! Woe to us. How can we escape being sentenced to hell? That is as good a question as any for a new dean of a school of theology to ponder.[1]
In Matthew 13, Jesus asks the disciples the question “Do you understand this?” Within the wider context of that passage, he is asking: Do you understand these parables of the kingdom? The kingdom’s costliness and hiddenness? Do you understand this old word in new contexts about seeds that grow with weeds, about yeast that permeates the whole dough? The word of the kingdom is treasure hidden in a field; it is the pearl of great price. It is treasure and brings great joy. Do we understand this? Jesus asks us: do we understand the costliness, the value, the joy of this treasure of the word.
Can we, with those disciples whom Jesus was teaching then, answer now, “Yes.” Do we understand this? Jesus is asking us if we understand what he is teaching. To these disciples and to us, Jesus desires to train us in the scribal work of holding and sharing the old and the new of the kingdom of heaven. “Therefore, every scribe who has been discipled for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old” (Mt. 13:52 NRSV). Scribes discipled for the kingdom, that is who we are called to be.
Yet it is as scribes that we are ever on the threshold of judgment. Scribal work is dangerous work; which is why paying attention to Jesus’ words in Matthew 13 is so important for theological educators. The words of the kingdom are both new and old. But the great temptation of theological education is to focus on one or the other: the old at the cost of the new, or the new at the cost of the old.
Many of the pharisees and scribes in conversation with Jesus, then and today, only hold the old words. That is to say that we remember the tradition and only the tradition. Ever since the days of Ezra there has been a longing to make the temple great again. A kind of religious MAGA that sentimentalizes the past and fears the new. And we can understand this, because the pressures of the empires of Egypt, Babylon, Persia, Greece, Rome, and America often see Judeo-Christian identity as a profound inconvenience. And so, an act of resistance is to grip firmly the old words so that we can maintain our identity in the midst of disequilibrium; but here the temptation we find is nostalgia. It is not living in the present, but asking ourselves and others to move where they cannot go, that is, the past. So scribes in the Roman Mediterranean and scribes in America can be tempted to only bring out the treasures of old. The temptation is nostalgia and the consequence is a kind of hypocrisy.
Scribal hypocrisy. This is a real thing. It was the single-minded devotion to the God of the past, which encouraged the scribes and pharisees to kill the Son of God in the present. Jesus was killed on exegetical grounds. Exegesis will kill if it is not lived in new contexts. And thus, Jesus was killed by scribes who were devoted to the old word, but failed to see the incarnation of that word in front of them in a new day. And Jesus doesn’t mince his words or perspective on these types of scribes, they only can honor the prophets because they are dead. They cannot recognize the prophet in front of them.
“Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing, now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43). In exile, the Israelites are enthralled with a nostalgia for the Exodus, the old ways of Jerusalem. Walter Brueggemann says that “The prophet’s listeners were so preoccupied with the old exodus memory that they engaged in nostalgia about that miraculous event that had given them identity as God’s chosen people. They were apparently so fixed on the old exodus that they were unmoved by the poetic imaginative testimony about a new contemporary deliverance. … What a strange thing to say to a displaced people: Do not remember! Do not cling to that past. Because if you cling excessively to the past, you will miss the newness being enacted before your very eyes.”[2]
Isaiah is pointing the exiles to the new word, it springs forth, do you not perceive it? Do you understand this? In the midst of their diaspora existence, God says do not overly remember too fondly the past such that you fail to live into the new. Be careful! If all our words point back to the old, in a nostalgic fashion, we won’t be able to live what we speak. Such a gaze for Christians is misguided, and the beginning of hypocrisy, because it forgets that Christ is coming back not for the first century church (not for Acts chapter 2), but the last century church—the church that knows how to hold the old with the new on the last day. It is also shameful and hypocritical because it diminishes the resurrection and only points to a historical Jesus. Following a historical Jesus is always, always easier than following a living one.
Woe to us scribes. The first temptation of the scribe is to bring out only the old, it is a form of nostalgia that often leads to hypocrisy.
Just as there were scribes who only held to the old, the other danger is the scribe who only has new treasures to share and display. For this scribe the temptation is novelty that results in forgetfulness.[3]
Today there is a never-ending supply of novel words. The fascination of progressive novelty that leaves the old behind is found everywhere. In society, in the churches, but especially in the universities. We are part of a tradition that has questioned all authorities and thus we have become highly skeptical of the past, and in so doing have sought after new, often rootless ways.
In Psalm 78, we are implored to set our hope in God and not forget the works of God. Moses knew from the very beginning that there will be a temptation to place our trust in other places. In his speech in Deuteronomy 8, he warns the Israelites of the way of self-sufficiency in which they will begin to think that they can control the kingdom through their own efforts, having no need of God and thus forgetting God’s works. Again, here in the Psalm, God’s people are being asked to remember, because they, like their ancestors of old, suffer from amnesia.[4] They have forgotten the old word and have become enticed only by the new and progressive ones.
Both the Psalmist and Moses warn us of how the new situation, the new object of trust and hope can lead to forgetting. They call us to remember what God can and will do. For only in remembering what God has done, can we begin to understand what he is doing today. But if we forget, if we are a scribe with only the new words, we place ourselves next to those ancestors who were stubborn and rebellious, who were a generation that was not steadfast and whose spirit was not faithful to God. Woe to us scribes with only new words. Let us beware of this second temptation of novelty that leads us to forget.
Nostalgia and Novelty, hypocrisy and amnesia – These are the common traps for scribes. This is a dangerous profession.
“Therefore every scribe who has been discipled for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old” (Mt. 13:52 NRSV).
New and old. It is a both/and reality, not an either/or. Being a scribe of the kingdom takes the conjunction and seriously. Taking the conjunction seriously is an act of holy imagination. It is being able to hold the old and the new together. It is the act of rigorous remembering, that is lived in contemporary contexts. It is against hypocrisy, that remembers the past but cannot live it in the present. It is against novelty, that believes in new ways forward but forgets the works of God.
So what is this treasure? What is the word of the kingdom that is both new and old? Let me suggest that there is another parable that Jesus not only teaches but lives and explains in Matthew 25, the parable of the sheep and the goats. In this parable, Jesus is the word of the kingdom that is hidden and of great price.
“‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’” (Matthew 25:37-39, NRSV).
Do you understand this? Our treasure is not an antique; our treasure is not a new shiny gadget. Our treasure is the ancient of days and the one who is younger than us. Our treasure is the one who is the single savior and the bridegroom of the church. Our treasure is the creator of the mountains and the one who is renewing the earth. Our treasure is the manna of old and the eucharist, the bread of life. The Alpha and Omega. The alpha and omega is the pearl of great price. Our treasure is the old word that is incarnate. Our treasure is Jesus. Scribes discipled for the kingdom bring out treasure new and old. Here treasure is singular (θησαθροῦ). Our treasure is Jesus, the ancient Word expressed in fresh and new ways.
This year we will be the curators of words. We will do our scribal work. There are a lot of nostalgic words around race and sexuality and ecology and God’s kingdom; there are equally a lot of novel words around race and sexuality and ecology and God’s kingdom. But it is the work of a scribe with a discipled imagination trained for the kingdom to bring out the Word, bring out and share the Word that was in the beginning and incarnate in the resurrected Lord.
How can we escape the sentence of Hell? That is an odd question to begin a year with. But as scribes of the kingdom, we have the honor and the great responsibility to train others to find hidden treasure, to look on the margins to find it, and to explore the old to discover the new and to wonder about our great and costly treasure that is the Living Word Jesus Christ, Son of God.