Synagogue Or Temple? Models For The Christian Worship

By Peter J. Leithart

[Peter Leithart teaches theology and literature at New St. Andrews College, Moscow, Idaho.]

Modern liturgists commonly argue that the early Christian liturgy, or at least the synaxis, had its roots in the worship of the first-century Jewish synagogue rather than the worship of the Jerusalem temple.[1] Some, to be sure, have noted that the opposition of temple and synagogue is far from absolute,[2] yet the issue has been posed as an attempt to “decide whether the Temple or the Synagogue served as the model for the liturgical institutions of the incipient Church.”[3] Treatments of early Christian liturgy that do not implicitly rest on this opposition are rare.[4]

Especially among Reformed liturgists, the appeal to the synagogue origins of Christian worship supports a liturgical theology that emphasizes simplicity over complexity, preaching over ceremony, Word over Sacrament. Hughes Oliphant Old, for example, claims that “the first Christians took over many of the worship traditions of the synagogue. They did not take over the rich and sumptuous ceremony of the Temple, but rather the simpler synagogue service, with its Scripture reading, its sermon, its prayers, and its psalmody.”[5] Quoting Old, Terry L. Johnson, a pastor in the Presbyterian Church in America, asserts that “the foundation for the simple and spiritual worship of the New Testament may be found in the synagogue services that developed in the exilic period in response to the prophetic critique of the formalism and ceremonial ostentation that surrounded temple worship…. The worship of the synagogue was essentially the worship of the temple minus the apparatus of sacrifice: temple, priest, altar, victim, incense, and ritual.”[6] Appeal to the synagogue worship has been a central theme in the Reformed polemic against the “ostentatious” ritualism of Rome and a central part of the defense of Puritan worship.

Use of the synagogue as a model for worship has created fundamental tensions in Reformed liturgics. Certain sectors of the Reformed church have emphasized the need for Scriptural regulation of worship. This “regulative principle of worship” was stated by John Girardeau, in a nineteenth-century book condemning the use of instrumental music: “A divine warrant is necessary for every element of doctrine, government and worship in the church; that is, whatsoever in these spheres is not commanded in the Scriptures, either expressly or by good and necessary consequence from their statements, is forbidden.”[7]

When Girardeau gets around to arguing against instrumental music, however, he rests his case heavily on the absence of music in the Jewish synagogue. Girardeau recognizes that the worship of Israel’s temple embodied certain permanent liturgical forms, but also argues that the temple worship was infused with temporary and typological features. By contrast, “no element of synagogue worship was typical and temporary,” a point he claims is “too evident to require argument.” Thus, the “specific difference between [synagogue and temple worship] lay in the possession by one of the accidental and temporary, and the non-possession by the other of the same.” To isolate these typological elements of the temple worship one applies this formula: elements of temple service—elements of synagogue worship = typological elements of temple worship. Sacrifices were offered at the temple, but not at the synagogue. Therefore, sacrifices were typological of the sacrifice of Christ and so the sacrificial worship of the temple is not to be continued in Christian worship.

Armed with this principle, Girardeau makes the point that “no musical instruments were used in the synagogue-worship”: What singing there was [in the synagogue], and there was not much of it in proportion to the other elements of worship, was plain and simple.[8] … only two instruments of sound were used in connection with the synagogue, and … these were employed, not in worship or along with an accompaniment, but as publishing signals, first, for proclaiming the new year; secondly, for announcing the beginning of the Sabbath; thirdly, for publishing the sentence of excommunication; and fourthly, for heralding fasts. These were their sole uses … from the nature of the instruments it is plain that they could not have accompanied the voice in singing. They were only of two kinds, trumpets and rams’ horns or cornets.

Despite the fact that temple worship employed a wide variety of musical instruments, Christians may not use such instruments in worship. Instead, because the synagogue provides the model for the “permanent and essential” forms of worship, and because the synagogue did not include instrumental music and in fact little music at all, instrumental music is forbidden in the church.

Girardeau’s claims about the role of musical instruments in synagogue worship is itself debatable,[9] but what interests me at this point are the shaky foundations of Girardeau’s liturgical theology. For starters, singing is as typological as instrumental music, for Christ fulfills the role of “chief singer” among his people (Heb 2:11–12). Yet, singing was undoubtedly part of the synagogue worship and an approved part of Christian worship. This undermines Girardeau’s unargued claim that no element of synagogue worship was “typical.” More fundamentally, Girardeau has jettisoned the “regulative principle of worship” with which he began. On the one hand, he stresses the need for biblical warrant for every element of worship; on the other hand, he ends up employing synagogue worship as a model for Christian worship. But there is virtually no information in Scripture about the worship conducted in the synagogues, and certainly no “commandments.” Girardeau leads us in strange directions: Scripture clearly reveals that instruments were used in the worship of God, yet under the banner of the “Scriptural regulation of worship,” Girardeau wants Christian worship to conform to the extra-biblical synagogue service.

The argument that Christian worship grew out of the synagogue service is not completely without merit. It is certainly true that the actions of the church’s worship, with one very significant exception (see below), are very much like the actions performed by worshipers in the synagogue. So far as it is possible to determine, synagogue worship in the first century seems to have consisted of reading Scripture, teaching, prayer, fellowship meals, and Psalms, an ensemble of liturgical actions that closely matches Luke’s descriptions of the meetings of the early Christians. It is also evident from Acts that Paul drew many of his early converts from the synagogue, and it is plausible to assume that they continued to worship in much the same way that they had before their incorporation into the church.

Yet, even if we could trace every last action of Christian worship to a synagogue precedent, it would be unwarranted to conclude that synagogue should provide the basic pattern for Christian worship. The question is not simply whether synagogue worship was empirically similar to the worship of the early church; it certainly was. The question also has to do with the intentions of the early Christian worshipers and how they expressed those intentions. After all, Christians can perform very similar actions and not be engaged in worship (in the strict sense) at all. A pastoral conference may begin with prayer and singing and may include Scripture reading and Bible teaching, but that does not make it a worship service. The issue is not merely the physical actions involved, but what the actors understand and intend.

Intention is inherent in all action, and integral to the nature of the action. Elevating a hand is a “mere” physical action, but the same physical motion can be any number of different kinds of action: a Nazi salute, shading the eyes, an involuntary twitch, a tearful wave goodbye. It is not the case that one can speak of the “physical” action on the one side, as if it were detachable from this intention. It would be a mistake to say that a Nazi salute and a “mournful wave” are “essentially the same” act with an insignificant overlay of “intentional” difference. They are simply different acts. Even the description “his hand moved up” implies something about intentionality—though perhaps merely that “he” is prone to random motions.

Scripture indicates that actions must be described not merely according to their empirical features but also according to the intentions they express and embody. The sacrificial worship of the temple in Jeremiah’s day doubtless looked much like the worship did in Solomon’s day, but Jeremiah claimed that their intention in worship was to escape the consequences of their wickedness ( Jer 7:1–15). Empirically, their worship looked like “Israelite offering sacrifice,” but what was really happening was “Israelites wickedly seeking protection from God’s judgment” or “Israel seeking to bribe God.” According to Jesus, the externally righteous acts of the Pharisees and scribes could not be described as “piety” but only as “hypocrisy.” Paul claims that the Corinthians are not meeting for the Lord’s Supper because they had perverted the rite so profoundly. Though the Corinthians continued to eat bread and drink wine, Paul says that the riotous and uncharitable conduct of the Corinthians had turned this action into something else.

Given that intention is integral to the nature of the action, our question about Christian worship must not simply be, What did the early Christians do?, but also, What did they think they were doing? Did they intend to imitate the synagogue worship or the temple worship, both or neither?

These considerations point to another significant weakness in the claim that the synagogue worship should provide the model for Christian worship. Because act and intention are inseparable, liturgical theology cannot confine its interest to specifying the empirical features of the liturgy. It must also seek to explicate what the liturgy means. In seeking a model for Christian worship, we are not merely looking for guidance in deciding the practical question of what to include in worship, the sequence of liturgical actions, and so forth. We must consider the “ontology” of liturgical actions, sequences, and performances. And here, practically speaking, using the synagogue as a model for Christian worship leaves us with a dearth of theological resources to draw on. Weekly synagogue-like assemblies were required by the law (Lev 23:3), but there is no explicit biblical information about what was done. We know some things were not done: there were (supposed to be) no sacrifices at the local assemblies. If we assume that the Levites who were scattered about the land officiated at these weekly gatherings, and note also that Levites were required to teach the Torah (Deut 33:10), then we can infer that the weekly gatherings included reading and teaching of Scripture (where else would they be teaching?). The New Testament provides more information about the synagogue meetings. Jesus read and commented on a prophetic Scripture in the synagogue at Nazareth (Luke 4:16–21). Paul was offered the podium at the synagogue in Pisidian Antioch (Acts 13:13–41). All this is of limited value because there is still no material for a theology of worship. Even if all these conclusions were morally certain, and therefore sufficient to guide our liturgical practice, they would be far from sufficient to formulate a liturgical theology.

The dilemmas outlined in the previous paragraphs can be avoided by challenging the fundamental assumption on which they rest: that is, the assumption that Christian worship was based on the synagogue rather than the temple. I argue below that this is a false choice, because the two forms of worship, however different empirically, were theologically integrated. My argument proceeds in two stages. First, I examine Jewish sources that treat the synagogue as an extension of the temple, rather than as an institution in competition with the temple, and this will support the conclusion that the Jews understood synagogue worship as temple worship in a different form. Second, I will examine some passages of the New Testament to indicate that the early Christians, following Jewish precedent in this regard, almost invariably described their own assemblies and worship according to the categories of the temple.

I

A sketchy argument for the linkages of synagogue and temple can be made from the biblical evidence. From the time of Moses, each Sabbath was a day of “solemn assembly” (Lev 23:3), terminology that implies a convocation for worship (Num 28:18, 25; 29:1; cf. Lev 23:24 and Num 10:2–3).[10] Further, as noted above, Levites were scattered throughout the land in the towns, and it seems plausible that they were the ones who led the worship on the Sabbath. If the Levites were leading the Sabbath convocations of worship in the Old Testament, it is plausible that they were taking their cues from the tabernacle and temple. Their liturgical sensibilities would be formed by the liturgical practices of their brothers at the central sanctuary.

This is an inference, plausible but hardly conclusive. Stronger evidence comes from extrabiblical descriptions of the synagogue, synagogal liturgical practices, and archeological evidence concerning the furnishings, ornamentation, and orientation of ancient synagogues. These lines of evidence converge on the conclusion that the synagogue and its worship were integrally related to the temple, and in some cases even derived from temple worship.

First, we may examine the terminology used to describe the synagogue.[11] Jewish sources describe the synagogue as a “temple” (ἱερόν) or a “sacred precinct” (ἱερὸς περίβολος). In fact, Josephus uses ἱερόν as a description for synagogues more often than συναγωγή or προσκυνή, two other common names for the synagogues. In Jewish War, Josephus writes,

For, although Antiochus surnamed Epiphanes sacked Jerusalem and plundered the temple, his successors on the throne restored to the Jews of Antioch all such votive offerings as were made of brass, to be laid up in their synagogue, and, moreover, granted them citizen rights on an equality with the Greeks. Continuing to receive similar treatment from later monarchs, the Jewish colony grew in numbers, and their richly designed and costly offerings formed a splendid ornament to the temple [ἱερόν].[12]

As Donald Binder points out, this passage is clearly referring to the synagogue of Antioch, not to the Jerusalem temple or any temple in Antioch. It is significant that devoted offerings from the temple were laid up in the synagogue, which suggests that it is a consecrated place.

Holiness regulations that governed the temple, moreover, were applied to the synagogue. Palestinian synagogues excavated in the modern era often include bathing pools at the entrance, apparently used for cleansing those who gathered for worship. Clearly, the synagogue building itself was considered something more than a place for teaching. It was considered a sacred space, on analogy with the temple, space that might be defiled if one entered it without being consecrated or cleansed. A passage from Philo confirms that these Levitical regulations were being applied to the synagogue:

If we cultivate the spirit of rendering thanks and honor to Him, we shall be pure from wrongdoing and wash away the filthiness which defiles our lives in thought and word and deed. For it is absurd that a man should be forbidden to enter the hiera save after bathing and cleansing his body, and yet should attempt to pray and sacrifice with a heart still soiled and spotted. The hiera are made of stones and timber, that is of soulless matter, and soulless too is the body in itself. And can it be that while it is forbidden to this soulless body to touch the soulless stones, except it have first been subjected to lustral and purificatory consecration, a man will not shrink from approaching with his soul impure the absolute purity of God and that too when there is no thought of repentance in his heart?[13]

Several comments may be offered on this remarkable passage. First, the use of the plural hiera makes it clear that synagogues are in view. Second, this passage provides a rationale for the cleansing rites of entry, namely, that the person is “approaching” the “absolute purity of God.” Philo considers the “temples” to be places where God was present, as in the temple, and the language of “approach” is also common in tabernacle texts. The whole theology of holiness that governs the temple is being applied to the synagogue.

Philo’s use of the phrase “pray and sacrifice” (θυσία) is also important, for it describes the liturgy of the synagogue in terms of the worship of the temple. Descriptions of the worship of the synagogue as “sacrificial” are common. In a passage that details the proper place of women in society, Philo makes a passing reference to sacrifices in the synagogue of Alexandria:

A woman, then, should not be a busybody, meddling with matters outside her household concerns, but should seek a life of seclusion. She should not show herself off like a vagrant in the streets before the eyes of other men, except when she has to go to the hieron, and even then she should take pains to go, not when the market is full, but when most people have gone home, and so like a free-born lady worthy of the name, with everything quiet around her, make her oblations (thusia) and offer her prayers to avert the evil and gain the good.[14]

Here activities in the synagogue are described as “sacrifice” and offering, employing terminology common in the LXX for temple and tabernacle worship. It is likely that “sacrifice in this passage refers specifically to prayer.”

A final passage from Philo provides additional support:

Though the worshipers bring nothing else, in bringing themselves they offer the best of sacrifices, the full and truly perfect oblation of noble living, as they honor with hymns and thanksgivings their Benefactor and Savior, God, sometimes with the organs of speech, sometimes without tongue or lips, when within the soul alone their minds recite the tale or utter the cry of praise.[15]

It may be objected that this use of sacrificial language is “mere metaphor,” but it is theologically pregnant metaphor. Even if one cannot draw the conclusions that I have suggested, Philo’s willingness to apply temple imagery to synagogue worship confirms that he sees no inherent conflict between the two. Donald Binder concludes after an exhaustive examination of the textual and archeological evidence that “it is … incorrect to categorize the Temple as ‘the place of the cult’ on the one side, and the synagogue as ‘the place of the scroll’ on the other…. the synagogues formed in miniature what the Temple courts constituted on a grander scale.”[16]

Liturgical evidence also supports the conclusion that the synagogue was considered an extension of the temple. The ʿAmida or Eighteen Benedictions is one of the fundamental elements of the synagogue service. According to Kohler’s study of the origins of the Benedictions, “throughout the Eighteen Benedictions there is noticeably a spirit antagonistic to the priesthood and its functions in the Temple.”[17] Yet, there is strong evidence that the Benedictions owe their origins to the Temple worship. Kohler accepts the argument of Joel Muller that the Eighteen go back “to the eight benedictions recited by the high priest on the Day of Atonement in connection with his reading from the Torah.”[18] Indeed, the very Benediction in which Kohler detects an animus toward the priests (the “blessing of the priests”), was followed by the Aaronic blessing of Numbers 6, which was “daily recited in the Temple.”[19] Further, Benediction 17 is titled abodah, a term used throughout the Pentateuch for the labors of the Levites at the tabernacle, and, according to Elbogen, this benediction “was recited in the Temple at the time of the offering of the sacrifices.”[20] In reciting the Eighteen Benedictions, then, synagogue worshipers were performing a liturgical act that had its roots in the temple.

For centuries, it was believed that there was a synagogue located on the Temple mount during the post-exilic period. This conclusion has been challenged, but this challenge actually strengthens the case being made here. According to Mishnah Tamid, lots were cast each day in the so-called “hall of hewn stones” to determine which priests would participate in the sacrifice, and after the sacrifice the priests returned to the chamber to recite the Ten Commandments and the Shema. Lotswere cast a second time to determine who would offer incense. This was not, Sidney Hoenig has argued, a synagogue service disconnected from the sacrificial worship; rather, “utilization of this Chamber in the morning for the casting of lots and the recital of the Shema was closely associated with the procedure of the morning sacrifice.”[21] The Shema is well-known as one of the key features of synagogue worship, but here we find it intertwined with temple sacrifices.

Reading and teaching of the law, the chief practices of the synagogue, were likewise part of the second temple service. Following the exile, lay interest and participation in the temple service increased, so that it came about that sacrifices could only be offered in the presence of representatives of the people. Like the priests, these representatives were divided into twenty-four courses, with each group spending a week every half-year at the temple “standing over” the sacrifices. Elbogen describes the activities of the maʿamadot [“standings”] as follows:

During this week of service the representatives of the people would hold four services each day (Morning, Additional, Afternoon, and Closing of the Gates), consisting of prayer and the reading of the Torah; likewise those who remained at home held daily assemblies for the same purpose…. In the morning the sacrifice and the service occurred together; out of the midday service the Additional Service was created; in the afternoon the second daily sacrifice, that of late afternoon …, originally corresponded to the Evening service, but after the time of the sacrifice was changed, there arose out of it two prayers, one before the sacrifice at the ninth hour (Acts 3:1) … and the second at evening when the Temple gates were closed.[22]

This lay-oriented Temple worship included blessings from the priests, possibly Psalms, recitation of Scripture, and prayer, and Elbogen concludes that the daily prayer in the synagogue was an abbreviated form of the Temple maʿamadot. According to Elbogen, the synagogue service was constructed from the following sources:

From the assemblies in the time of the Babylonian exile it drew the reading and explication of Scripture; from the liturgy of the priests it drew the confession of faith and the Priestly Blessing; from the Song of the Levites it drew the psalms; and from the maʿamad services, the petitions. The most important contribution was made by the maʿamadot, for through them prayer was first transferred to any location and was held regularly every weekday.[23]

In short, one of the fundamental sources of synagogue worship was the lay worship held daily at the temple.

Finally, meals, feasts and holidays were also sometimes celebrated in the synagogues. Josephus and Philo both speak of Gentiles throughout the world observing Yom Kippur. Synagogue worship appears to have included observances of the fast of Yom Kippur, and there is also evidence that the Feast of Tabernacles was celebrated in the synagogues of the diaspora. An inscription from Berenice refers to an assembly in the synagogue for Booths, and Philo describes one event when the feast was deprived of cheer because one of the Jewish leaders was being held in prison. There is no explicit evidence, but the bits of evidence make this a plausible inference: The Jews of the diaspora considered that they had fulfilled their obligation to appear before the Lord on annual feasts so long as they celebrated feasts in the synagogue.[24]

A final line of evidence is archeological. In a number of cases, synagogues were adorned with mosaics that employ imagery from the temple. The synagogue excavated at Beth Alpha, for example, was decorated with a mosaic that depicted the temple courtyard with an altar, the temple veil, the lampstands of the holy place, and the ark of the covenant.[25] The paintings on the walls of the Dura-Europos synagogue likewise highlight the synagogue’s connection with the temple. As explained by Joseph Gutmann, the paintings depict scenes of the Mosaic tabernacle, the ark’s crossing of the Jordan, the Shiloh sanctuary, and the temple of Solomon. In short, the paintings tell a connected story, the history of the ark of the covenant. That this is not simply a reminder of a lost artifact of Jewish devotion is evident from the fact that “the flat biblical ark-box … is always depicted in Dura as a tall yellow Torah ark-chest with rounded top.”[26] The ark of the synagogue thus stands in continuity with the ark of the temple.

Further consideration of the purpose and theology of the Torah-ark provides additional support for this conclusion. Like the Torah-ark, the ark of the covenant contained a copy of the law (see Exod 25:16, 21; 1 Kgs 8:9). Placement of the Torah-ark also emphasized its association with the temple and its ark. The Torah-ark did not have a permanent location in some early synagogues, but the Tosefta indicates that the Torah-ark would be carried to a position near the synagogue entrance with its back toward the “sanctuary,” that is, the Jerusalem temple.[27] In later synagogues, the Torah-ark was housed in a recess in the “holy wall” that was nearest Jerusalem, which was often the wall most distant from the synagogue entry.[28] This orientation must be linked with the fact that the Torah was considered a sacred object, and its reading and study the most holy activity of synagogue worship. The Torah was the locus of the divine presence, the Shekinah that filled the most holy place of the Jerusalem temple. Thus, a worshiper entering a synagogue would be moving toward an ark containing the Torah, and this ark was considered the most holy thing in the tabernacle. Surely, Jews familiar with the layout of the temple would recognize that their entry to the synagogue replicated entry into the temple court.

The directional orientation of the synagogue entrance confirms the point. Every sanctuary in Scripture was oriented on an east-west axis, with the entryway to the east. Anyone entering the temple court from outside would be moving west, and the priests moved west as they entered the holy place and most holy place to carry out their ministry. Synagogues were not always built on an east-west axis, but it was common for the entry to the synagogue to be on the eastern wall. Indeed, t. Meg. 4:22 stated that “Synagogue gates should open toward the east as did the gates of the tent of meeting; for it is written, ‘round the tent of meeting … those that pitch on the east side toward the sunrising’” (Num 2:2–3).[29] Landsberger provides evidence that this requirement was literally followed in many synagogue constructions. Doorways were put in the eastern wall even if the Torah-ark was not located in the western wall. At Irbid in Galilee, for example, the entry to the synagogue was on the east, while the Torah-ark was located on the southern wall, which was the wall facing Jerusalem.[30] Some synagogues, then, were not only oriented toward the temple city, but were built, as much as practical, on the model of the temple.[31]

It is true that many of the synagogues unearthed by archeologists were built after A.D. 70 Thus, itmay be that synagogues began to be constructed, oriented, and adorned according to the design of the temple only after the temple had been destroyed. Binder, however, argues fromthe literary evidence that the synagogues’ appropriation of the functions and theology of the temple was taking place before A.D. 70, and the archeological evidence of later synagogues is in close continuity with earlier conceptions of the synagogue.[32]

The literary, liturgical, and archeological evidence presented above is sufficient to establish that the synagogue was understood in continuity with the temple, rather than as a competitor with it or an institution that embodied a radically different form of Judaism. In the next section, I will briefly examine a few New Testament passages to show that the apostolic church, like the members of the Jewish synagogue, saw herself as a continuation of the temple.

II

Given the argument of the previous section, even if the New Testament writers consistently described the church as a “new synagogue,” the temple and its worship would not be excluded from consideration. As it happens, however, this is not the pattern of the New Testament writers. Only one New Testament writer speaks of the church as a synagogue, and he does that in only one passage. James warns against favoritism to the rich within the συναγωγή ( Jas 2:2). James is clearly referring to Christian gatherings, rather than to a meeting of a Jewish synagogue. Chapter 2 opens with a warning not to “hold your faith in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ with personal favoritism” (2:1), and then immediately moves on to describe a scenario in which a rich man and a poor man enter the “synagogue” (2:2–6).[33] Apart from this passage, however, no other New Testament writer describes any gathering of the church as a “synagogue,” though this usage is found in the writings of the apostolic fathers and other early post-apostolic texts.[34] The unique usage in James is doubtless related to his setting and audience—a Palestinian Jew, writing to the twelve tribes of the διασπορά (1:1).

Temple language, by contrast, is frequently applied to the church or to her members. In 1 Cor 3:16–17, Paul reminds the Corinthians that they are the ναὸς θεοῦ. In this passage, the corporate dimensions of the metaphor are in view. Paul is defending his role as the master builder of the church, and warning others not to build with worthless materials that will finally be consumed (vv. 10–15). Here, the temple is the church as a corporate body, and not the individual members. It is evident that this is not “mere metaphor” for Paul, since he applies the entire theology of holy space to the church. The temple was the dwelling-place of God, and it was this indwelling that consecrated it as holy space (see Exod 29:43). According to Paul, the Spirit present among believers constitutes the church as the temple, that is, as holy space (cf. v. 17: ὁ γὰρ ναὸς τοῦ θεοῦ ἅγιός ἐστιν). Further, just as violations of holy space were fiercely punished under the old covenant,[35] so in the new, “If any man destroys the temple of God, God will destroy him.” Paul applies the same theology to the individual believer in 1 Cor 6:19–20: Because the Spirit dwells in the believer, he is individually a ναὸς τοῦἐν ὑμῖν ἁγίου πνεύματος (v. 19). Because the believer is consecrated, he is not to allow any pollution (specifically sexual pollution) to defile his body.

In Eph 2:19–22, the church is again described in terms of the temple, and again Paul draws on the Old Testament temple theology to expound on the “mystery” of the gospel (see Eph 3:4–6). Addressing the Gentile Ephesians, Paul reminds them that they are no longer “strangers and aliens” (2:19). These terms have political overtones, and thus suggest that the Ephesians are no longer excluded from the “commonwealth of Israel” (v. 12: τῆς πολιτείας τοῦ ᾿Ισραὴλ).

In vv. 19–22, however, the imagery is not immediately political, but instead operates in the realm of temple access and exclusion. The Ephesians were ξένος in the sense that they were excluded from the “household” of the holy ones, the consecrated people of Israel. Previously, they were the “strangers” who would be put to death if they came near (Num 1:51; 3:10). No longer excluded, the Gentiles believers are being constructed εἰς ναὸν ἅγιον ἐν κυρίῳ (v. 21). Again, Paul draws on the temple theology of the Old Testament by adding that the community formed in one man from Jews and Gentiles is a dwelling-place (κατοικητήριον) for the Spirit (v. 22). Practically, Paul moves from this to exhort the Ephesians to unity; if the church is the holy temple, destroying the unity of the church is a pollution of holy ground, an act of sacrilege (see 4:1–9).[36]

These passages demonstrate that Paul not merely employs the “imagery” of the temple, but applies the whole theology of holy space and sacrilege to the new temple of the church. Paul’s teaching here should be called a “temple ecclesiology” rather than simply a literary employment of “temple imagery.”

If the church is the temple, it stands to reason that her worship is a new covenant development of temple worship. Other New Testament writers, assuming the temple ecclesiology that Paul develops explicitly, describe Christian worship in terms of sacrifice. Peter, having reminded his readers that they are a “spiritual house for a holy priesthood,” goes on to explain that their purpose is to offer up πνευματικὰς θυσίας (1 Pet 2:5). Similarly, the writer of Hebrews urges his reader to θυσίαν αἰνἐσεως (Heb 13:15). In both passages, the verb used is ἀναθέρω, which is used frequently in the LXX to describe sacrificial procedures (see Gen 8:20; 22:2; Exod 24:5; 29:18; Lev 2:16; 3:5; etc.).

In Heb 13, the notion of “sacrifice” is not limited to the offering of praise in formal worship. The whole chapter is an expansion of the exhortation in 12:28 to offer λατρεύωμεν εὐαρέστως to the God who is a consuming fire. The various ethical exhortations in 13:1–17 are forms of sacrifice in a “liturgy” that embraces the whole of life (see 13:16; also Rom 12:1; Eph 5:2; Phil 2:17; 4:18). In 13:14, however, sacrificial terminology is applied to formal acts of worship and praise. The qualifying phrase διὰ παντὸς is often translated “continually,” but it can mean “in all sorts of times and circumstances” or “regularly” just as easily as it means “in all times and circumstances.” The use in Luke 24:53 is particularly relevant, because it speaks of the disciples’ “continuous” worship in the temple, which clearly means “regular” participation in temple worship (see also Mark 5:5; Acts 10:2; Heb 9:6). Heb 13:15 thus is the positive side of the warning in 10:25; it is an exhortation to persevere in meeting with the assembly for praise and thanksgiving, whether that leads to persecution and opposition or not. Even if θυσία in Heb 13:15 is to be understood in a broader sense, 1 Pet 2:5, embedded as it is in a passage clustered with references to the temple and the priesthood, refers to a specifically liturgical sacrifice.

The New Testament also employs the imagery of the temple worship to describe the particular elements of Christian worship. The passages above indicate that praise and thanksgiving are conceived as a form of sacrifice, and the offering of prayer is associated with the ascent of incense in Rev 8:3–5. Apostolic writers also describe word and sacrament, the basic foci of Christian worship, in sacrificial terms. In Heb 4:12, the word of God is pictured as a sword that pierces to the heart of the hearer, but the writer goes further to say that the sword of the word divides even ἁρμῶν τε καὶ μυελῶν. If this is merely an attempt to provide a vivid description of the power of the word, it must be said that the image fails.[37] References to bones and marrow being cut by a double-edged sword place us in the realm of sacrificial imagery. The word is the cutting sword that dismembers us so that we may offer ourselves as sacrifices in praise and thanksgiving and prayer.

New Testament writers also explain the significance of the Lord’s Supper in sacrificial terms. The mere fact that the Supper involves eating the “body” and drinking the “blood” of a sacrificial victim is enough to establish the connections with temple worship. Separation of body and blood also points to a sacrificial background. Further, when Jesus speaks of the blood of the Supper as being “poured out for many for forgiveness of sins” (Matt 26:28), he is alluding to the blood “poured out” on the altar for the “atonement” and cleansing of Israel (see Lev 16:19). Paul too sees an analogy between the temple sacrifices and the Supper, arguing that the bond created between Israelite worshipers and the altar is similar to the bond formed between the Lord and those who partake of his table (1 Cor 10:18–22).

Indeed, the inclusion of the Lord’s Supper as a central event of Christian worship is conclusive proof that early Christian worship did not derive from the synagogue service. Teaching, prayer, and even fellowship meals took place in the ancient synagogue, but the one thing that never happened in the synagogue was the sacrifice of a victim. Blood was never poured out in the synagogue; that blood is present in Christian worship is proof that Christian worship is modeled on the temple.

III

Several sets of issues may be addressed by way of conclusion. First, the question of resources for a Reformed liturgical theology needs to be addressed. As I have shown, both the synagogue and the early church derived their categories for self-understanding and their understanding of worship from the temple.

Both Jewish and Christian writers speak of their assemblies (or places) for worship as “sanctuaries,” their prayers and praise as “sacrifice,” and the New Testament writers at least describe the elements of worship in terms of sacrificial procedures (the word that divides, the sacrificial meal). Further, it is clear that the apostles were willing to draw ecclesiological and liturgical conclusions from these parallels. The apostolic example thus gives ample warrant for Reformed liturgists to examine the temple and sacrificial texts of the Old Testament for guidance concerning Christian worship. Especially in the light of the explosion of interest in the Levitical system among Old Testament scholars in the last few decades, fresh insights will surely be gained from such a study.

A second set of implications has to do with the ecumenical import of this discussion. Protestants have traditionally gravitated toward the synagogue as the model for Christian worship, in large measure as a means of highlighting the centrality of the Word. Catholic and Orthodox liturgical theologies have tended toward the temple, with its elaborate ritual and sacrificial character. If temple and synagogue are in fact two modes of the same form of worship, this conflict is weakened, if it does not dissolve altogether. Protestants must learn to see the synaxis as a sacrificial procedure, while Catholics must learn to see that their templar worship now takes the form of a worship equally “centered” on Word and Sacrament. Major differences between Catholic and Protestant worship remain, but a fuller recognition of the continuity of temple and synagogue will make it possible to address those differences more honestly.

Notes

1. See Gregory Dix, The Shape of the Liturgy (2d ed.; San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1945), 36: “The synaxis was in its shape simply a continuation of the jewish synagogue service of our Lord’s time, which was carried straight over into the christian church by its jewish nucleus in the decade after the passion.” Also, Eric Werner, The Sacred Bridge: The Interdependence of Liturgy and Music in the Synagogue and Church during the First Millennium (London: Dennis Dobson, 1959), 2: “right at the outset it should be remembered that it was not the Temple but the Synagogue which set the pattern for the divine service of the primitive Christian community.” Frank C. Senn, Christian Liturgy: Catholic and Evangelical (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997), 68: Senn notes that “Historians of liturgy commonly assume that early Christian assemblies were patterned on the model of the Jewish synagogue,” though he hedges his conclusions to some degree.
2. Some of the evidence adduced to show the continuity of temple and synagogue has been challenged. Werner (Sacred Bridge, 22–23) suggests that the “closest link” between the two was the “Temple-Synagogue” which, he claims, existed in the temple precincts in the first century. But the texts cited in support of this conclusion do not point to the existence of a synagogue on the temple mount (see Sidney B. Hoenig, “The Suppositious Temple-Synagogue,” in Joseph Gutmann, ed., The Synagogue: Studies in Origins, Archaeology and Architecture [New York: Ktav, 1975], 55–71). More generally, Senn (Christian Liturgy, 68) notes that little is known about first-century synagogue worship.
3. Werner, Sacred Bridge, 20.Werner’s whole discussion (pp. 17–26) is strangely schizophrenic. He acknowledges several types of continuity between temple and synagogue and observes that the synagogues took over many functions of the temple. When he assesses early church history, however, he concludes that Christian liturgy began from a synagogal base, and only later, when the Jerusalem temple no longer posed a challenge to the church, “borrowed many elements from the Temple,” though not from the real temple “but from its stylized image, existing only in the minds of Christian theologians” (26). If, however, the synagogue is itself continuous with the temple, then the temple affected Christian worship from the beginning, though perhaps only indirectly.
4. See the careful summary by Roger T. Beckwith in The Study of Liturgy (ed. Cheslyn Jones et al.; New York: Oxford, 1978), 39–51. Also Paul Bradshaw, The Search for the Origins of Christian Worship: Sources and Methods for the Study of Early Liturgy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), ch. 1. Beckwith avoids distorting polarizations by refusing to draw grand conclusions about which Jewish institutions were “most” influential on early Christian worship, and Bradshaw, while acknowledging the importance of temple and sacrificial terminology in Christian liturgical writings, especially after the fourth century, deliberately limits his discussion to forms of prayer, elements of synagogue worship, and meal-prayers.
5. Hughes Oliphant Old, Worship (Guides to the Reformed Tradition; Atlanta: John Knox, 1984), 43.
6. Terry L. Johnson, ed., Leading in Worship (Oak Ridge, Tenn.: Covenant Foundation, 1996), 8 n. 7.
7. Girardeau’s treatise is available online at www.fpcr.org. Here is a more recent statement from Orthodox Presbyterian pastor William Young: “The principle in question may be stated simply by the proposition … ‘The Holy Scripture prescribes the whole content of worship.’ By this is meant that all elements or parts of worship are prescribed by God Himself in His Word. In other words it has equal application to the Old and the New Testament. This principle has universal reference to worship performed by men since the fall. It is also universal in that it is regulative of all types of worship, whether public, family, or private”; or, more simply, “(What Scripture does not command it forbids.) ‘The silence of Scripture is as real a prohibition as a positive injunction to abstain’ “ (Frank J. Smith and David Lachman, eds., Worship in Presence of God [Greenville, S.C.: Greenville Seminary Press, 1992], 75–76).
8. Note again the appeal to the “simple” worship of the synagogue.
9. In part, the debate has to do with the lack of evidence. In his classic study of Jewish worship, Ismar Elbogen suggests that the music of the synagogue was affected by “the song of the Levitical choir in the Temple of Jerusalem,” but admits that this is speculative. Elbogen also concludes from the Talmud that “the collapse of the independent state [of Israel] made the dominant mood of the times one of depression, that the joy went out of music, and that in general every kind of music was prohibited” ( Jewish Liturgy: A Comprehensive History [trans. Raymond P. Scheindlin; Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1993], 381). Thus, the synagogue worship may originally have included instrumental music, which was later removed. On the other hand, see Werner, Sacred Bridge, 42 n. 4.
10. Baruch Levine notes that the phrase is built from a root meaning “to proclaim” or “to summon,” and thus indicates that “on an occasion so designated, the community is summoned for worship and celebration” (Leviticus [The JPS Torah Commentary; Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1989], 154). See also Gordon Wenham, The Book of Leviticus (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1979), 301.
11. In the following pages, I am heavily relying on Donald D. Binder, Into the Temple Courts: The Place of the Synagogue in the Second Temple Period (SBLDS 169; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 1997).
12. Josephus, J.W. 7.44-45 (Thackeray, LCL).
13. Cited in Binder, Into the Temple Courts, 396.
14. De specialibus legibus, 3.171-72.
15. Ibid., 1.272.
16. Binder, Into the Temple Courts, 404.
17. Kaufmann Kohler, “The Origin and Composition of the Eighteen Benedictions with a Translation of the Corresponding Essene Prayers in the Apostolic Constitutions,” in Contributions to the Scientific Study of Jewish Liturgy (ed. Jakob J. Petuchowski; New York: Ktav Publishing, 1970), 72. Kohler’s article was first published in 1924.
18. Ibid., 57.
19. Ibid., 72.
20. Elbogen, Jewish Liturgy, 50.
21. Hoenig, “The Suppositious Temple-Synagogue,” 56–57. For further description of the activities in the hall of hewn stone, see Elbogen, Jewish Liturgy, 189–90.
22. Elbogen, Jewish Liturgy, 190–91.
23. Ibid., 191.
24. See Binder, Into the Temple Courts, 415–26.
25. Joseph Gutmann, “Programmatic Painting in the Dura Synagogue,” in Synagogue (ed. Gutmann), 210–32. Oddly, in the light of the evidence he presents, Gutmann suggests that the Judaism of the period of the Dura synagogue was “a radically new type of Judaism” that “substituted prayers within the synagogues for sacrifices at the Temple” (217).
26. Ibid., 495-98. Binder discusses the argument of John Wilkinson that the zodiac design that is prominently in the center of the mosaic is the table of showbread, with the twelve signs standing in for the twelve loaves. Though the “courtyard” picture also shows Abraham preparing to sacrifice Isaac, the presence of several sacrificial animals suggests that it is designed to represent the temple court.
27. Franz Landsberger, “The Sacred Direction in Synagogue and Church,” in Synagogue (ed. Gutmann), 242–43. Landsberger translates קדשׁ in the Tosefta as “sanctuary,” and concludes that it refers to the Jerusalem temple.
28. Ibid., pp. 243-45.
29. Quoted in ibid., 246.
30. Ibid., 246-51.
31. A final minor piece of evidence may also be noted. Many ancient synagogues had courtyards surrounding them, which often contained fountains or cisterns to enable worshipers to cleanse themselves before entering worship. These courtyards replicated the temple courtyard, which contained the great bronze sea on the backs of twelve bulls.
32. Binder, Into the Temple Courts, 493–98.
33. The purpose of the “assembly” is less evident. See R. N. Ward, “Partiality in the Assembly: James 2:2–4, ” HTR 62 (1969): 87-97, for the argument that the “gathering” mentioned in James 2 is not a worship service but a gathering to deliberate and pass judgment on community concerned. Ward’s article is cited and discussed in Douglas J. Moo, James (TNTC; Leicester: Inter-Varsity Press, 1985), 89–90.
34. See the citations in Ralph P. Martin, James (WBC 48; Waco: Word, 1988), 61. For texts, see J. B. Lightfoot, The Apostolic Fathers (5 vols.; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1989), 2:345.
35. Jacob Milgrom, Studies in Levitical Terminology: The Intruder and the Levite. The Term ʿAboda (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1970).
36. Though Peter does not use the term ναός, his description of the church as a “spiritual house for a holy priesthood,” in which to offer “spiritual sacrifices” (1 Pet 2:5) clearly alludes to the temple, which is often called “the house” in the Old Testament (e.g., 2 Sam 7 passim; 1 Kgs 6–9 passim).
37. Owen suggested that the purpose of the image was to highlight the word’s power to discern the inner recesses of the human heart, but surely there are less confusing ways to make this point, and the point would be redundant in any case, given v. 13 (Hebrews [7 vols.; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991], 4:360–61). Bruce is no more successful when he cites A. B. Davidson’s claim that joints and marrow are “attributed to” the soul and spirit (The Epistle to the Hebrews [NICNT; rev. ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1990], 113). The idea that this image communicates the “thoroughness” of the word’s operation is accurate, but it fails to explain why this image is used.