Abiding in Him - Costi Hinn

Justification By Faith In Ambrosiaster’s Commentary On Romans: A Response To Dongsun Cho

By Peter J. Dubbelman

[Peter J. Dubbelman is an associate pastor at Apex Baptist Church in Apex, NC, and a PhD student in theological studies at Southeastern Theological Seminary.]

Abstract

This article defends the thesis that Ambrosiaster, in his Commentary on Romans, both grounded salvation in a baptism that established the catechumen’s union in Christ (which included justification sola fide) and recognized the descent and ascent of the Son as both a movement of reconciliation and a movement of revelation. Within this framework of soteriology, Ambrosiaster knew justification sola fide as both a forensic and a sanative event. Therefore, he did not strictly separate Paul’s presentation in Romans of justification from sanctification, though he understood the former primarily as a one-time event.

To some degree, this thesis diverges from Dongsun Cho’s last two essays on Ambrosiaster (2012 and 2014). There is much to commend in Cho’s two essays. However, I present here what Cho did not say about portions of Ambrosiaster’s doctrine of justification in Romans in emphasizing other aspects of this doctrine. I argue that Ambrosiaster’s view of justification sola fide is misunderstood if it does not also include the opportunity for dehumanized humanity to be saved, healed, and reunited to the Creator by Jesus Christ, who is the source and embodiment of the new creation, and the model for the Word becoming flesh in the redeemed, who are the body of Christ.

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Prior to Erasmus’s condemnation of him (1527), Ambrosiaster was widely quoted within Western Christianity.[1] He influenced the likes of both Augustine and Pelagius, served as a forerunner to a method of scriptural commentary that Western Christianity accepted, wrote the oldest extant Latin commentary on Romans (late 370s to early 380s), and, as I soon note, took a pro-Nicene/Constantinople Creed (315/381) and pre-Chalcedonian Creed (451) stance that influenced his understanding of justification.[2] Maurice Wiles states he may be “the most important exegete” of all the Latin Fathers.[3] Gerald Bray builds upon this thought, “Ambrosiaster must be regarded as one of the greatest of the ancient biblical commentators, whose work can often stand alongside that of modern scholars.”[4] Yet despite Ambrosiaster’s recent acclaim, David Hunter laments, “Of all the latter Latin Fathers, Ambrosiaster is perhaps the most neglected and in need of further study.”[5] This neglect includes Ambrosiaster’s doctrine of justification being discussed sporadically and inconclusively over the last century, by both Catholics and Protestants.[6]

Dongsun Cho, by way of two articles published in 2012 and 2014, has had the last word in this conversation as it concerns Ambrosiaster’s doctrine of justification.[7] By the present study I modestly hope to contribute to this discussion, primarily by dialoguing with Cho’s written thoughts on this topic.

Cho’s 2012 article concluded that “there is a significant theological consensus between Ambrosiaster and the Reformers on justification: the gratuitousness of grace, the rejection of good works as a necessary constituent of justification, and a distinction between justification and sanctification.”[8] He began his 2014 article with a crystallization and progression of this thought by stating, “Ambrosiaster already taught a Reformational doctrine of justification prior to Augustine in the fourth-century Latin Christianity.”[9] In both articles, Cho is clear that Ambrosiaster, in contrast to Augustine, did not “see the renewal of human nature as another qualification for justification.”[10]

There is much to commend in Cho’s studies. He has provided a helpful survey of scholarship to date on Ambrosiaster’s understanding of justification;[11] he has effectively connected him with the Latin patristic tradition that joins faith in Christ with the forgiveness of sin(s) and removal of guilt;[12] he has correctly surmised that for Ambrosiaster justification before God was understood as distinct from justification before the world;[13] and he has noted extensively and accurately that Ambrosiaster understood sola fide (by faith alone) as the appropriate human response to the gospel—from the beginning to the end of the Christian’s life—and something that was apart from “the works of the law” (lex factorum).[14]

My argument here is not against a Reformed perspective of justification, per se. Nor do I challenge here much of what Cho wrote in his 2012 and 2014 articles, but rather what he did not say about portions of Ambrosiaster’s doctrine of justification at the expense of emphasizing other aspects of it. As such, I do not seek here to present only examples within Ambrosiaster’s commentary on Romans that support, as per Cho, a “Reformational doctrine of justification.” Rather, in defense of the thesis presented below, I attempt to answer the question: What does Ambrosiaster fully teach about justification sola fide in his Commentary on Romans (ACR)?

Some definitions are in order, since the meaning of what Cho labels a “Reformational doctrine of justification” varies amongst scholars. If I understand him correctly, he stands within a Reformed perspective of justification sola fide: (1) This perspective knows justification as a once-and-for-all event that grants a new and permanent status, the outward situation of being in a relation of peace with God. It is therefore not a process.[15] Here, the soteriological emphasis of justification is eschatological and not sanative. It is extra nos (outside us),[16] and its atonement metaphor is primarily forensic and therefore foremost an answer to people’s guilt and condemnation rather than their state of death.[17] (2) This view recognizes a close connection between justification and sanctification but maintains a definite separation between these two separate acts of grace by way of Calvin’s duplex gratia (double grace).[18]

Does Ambrosiaster teach a “Reformational doctrine of justification” as just described? Given the above quotes by Cho, I perceive he would say, “Yes.” Quite a while ago, Protestant Alexander Souter and Catholics Robert Eno and Johannes Quasten very briefly asserted the opposite perspective.[19] We cannot here undertake an exhaustive discussion of Ambrosiaster’s entire extant literature to address this question. Perhaps this thesis will suffice: Ambrosiaster, in his Commentary on Romans, both grounded salvation in a baptism that established the catechumen’s union in Christ (which included justification sola fide) and recognized the descent and ascent of the Son as both a movement of reconciliation and a movement of revelation. Within this framework of soteriology, he knew justification sola fide as both a forensic and a sanative event. Therefore, he did not strictly separate justification from sanctification, though he understood the former primarily as a one-time event.

If this thesis is true, an aspect of Ambrosiaster’s view of justification fits within Cho’s “Reformational doctrine of justification” (i.e., justification as forensic and sola fide). Ambrosiaster’s understanding of justification as a whole, however, is more clearly identified with that held by other theologians (some of whom are Reformed and Neo-orthodox), whose theological distinctions from Cho’s “Reformational doctrine of justification” are soon noted below.

This thesis is defended in four main sections: First, in “Baptism and Justification,” I argue that in ACR baptism was understood by Ambrosiaster as the all-encompassing dynamic within which the many parts of salvation were understood, including justification. Second, in “Justification as More than Forensic,” I showcase examples in ACR where justification included a sanative aspect. Third, in “Faith as More than Forensic,” I contend that in ACR the faith that justifies included for Ambrosiaster a faith in Christ’s incarnation and divinity. Fourth, I propose an area for further study in “Excursus: What about Romans 3:24 §§1–2?” and suggest my thesis may provide a step toward solving a textual criticism dispute related to Ambrosiaster’s commentary on Rom 3:24. In a fifth section, “Conclusion,” I provide a summary of this study and briefly share the larger soteriological implications of Ambrosiaster’s view of justification presented here.

I. Baptism And Justification

For the church fathers, baptism was indisputably connected both to the mission and message of the church as well as entrance into their communities.[20] Most of these fathers, according to Steve McKinion, knew it as “the bath of regeneration” and some as the “means of individual salvation.”[21] For Ambrosiaster, “The power of God [i.e., the gospel] is that which invites people to the faith and grants salvation to everyone who believes; it forgives sins and justifies” (Rom 1:16 §2). The reception of this gospel for him is inextricable from baptism. He elaborates on these thoughts:

The apostle proclaims that what we receive from the gift of baptism is greater [than lex factorum (the works of the law); cf. Rom 4:4 §1], because he declares not only that we receive the forgiveness of sins, but also that we are justified and made children of God, so that this blessedness possesses perfect glory and security. (Rom 4:7–8 §4)[22]

[Christ] arose from the dead in order to grant us the grace of justification [gratia nos iustificationis donaret] … so that we might be worthy of being called children of God. Those who were baptized before his passion received only the forgiveness of sins.… But after his resurrection those who were baptized before, as well as those who were baptized afterward, were all justified [omnes iustificati sunt] through the accepted formula of the Trinitarian faith (see Matt 28:19), after the Holy Spirit, who is the sign for believers that they are children of God, had also been received. (Rom 4:23–25 §§2–2a)

Ambrosiaster, it appears, not only fits squarely into the baptismal perspective expressed by the fathers but also understood baptism to grant salvation, to forgive sins, and to justify the catechumen. For he declares, “from the gift of baptism … we are justified and made children of God.” Many others within patristic theology also connected justification sola fide and baptism, for example, Hermas, Irenaeus, Justin Martyr, Cyprian, Methodius, John Chrysostom, Ambrose, Augustine, and Basil of Caesarea.[23]

For Ambrosiaster, the terms and concepts related to Cho’s view of “a Reformational doctrine of justification” are clearly identified with Ambrosiaster’s understanding of baptism: “Sins are forgiven and covered and not reckoned without toil or any work through baptism” (Rom 4:8 §3). He additionally declares, “The old self has been renewed through baptism … so that we know what we ought to do” (Rom 13:12; cf. 9:29 §1). For by baptism, “a soul having been released from the coupling with the flesh, rises again in it” (Rom 7:5 §2); unbelievers, once “subjected to sin,” become “the baptized … [who] have been set free from sin” (Rom 8:3 §1). Here, for Ambrosiaster baptism is “the spiritual bath” of regeneration (Rom 6:2 §1); “at that point we die to all our sins, so that, having been renewed and having put off death, we may be seen to rise again to life, reborn.… This birth renews a person in the mind” (Rom 6:3) and allows the believer to transition from their “state of sin” (7:23 §1).

In ACR, baptism also identifies with cleansing and incorporeality:

We who have been baptized … may follow this life into which Christ has risen.… Now by continuing in the commands of Christ we do not revert once again to our former way of life.… This, in fact, is why baptism is celebrated with water, that just as water washes [abluit] away dirt from the body, so too we may believe that through baptism we have been spiritually cleansed from every sin and have been renewed. For what is incorporeal is cleansed [abluatur] invisibly. (Rom 6:4 §§2–3; 6:5)

Ambrosiaster, it seems, connected many of the terms typically identified within a Reformed “order of salvation” (ordo salutis) to baptism, namely, calling, regeneration, faith, repentance, and justification.[24] For him, by baptism sins are forgiven and a believer, by way of a cleansing by the Spirit, transitions from a state of death to one of life. The sixteenth-century European reformers informally valued what is known today as an ordo salutis (the term was not used until the eighteenth century); however, it appears that Ambrosiaster—perhaps as a precursor to Karl Barth’s, Gerrit Berkouwer’s, Herman Ridderbos’s and more recently Simon Gathercole’s criticism of ordo salutis—emphasized baptism as the all-encompassing dynamic within which many of the parts of salvation are understood (and maybe even overlap).[25] For him, one of these aspects of baptism included justification.

With respect to baptism one more point, already hinted at above, should be made. By way of baptism, the Christian is now able to heed the voice of “the spiritual physician [medicus spiritalis; who] says: Take my yoke upon you … my burden is light” (Rom 6:19 §2; see also Rom 9:17 §2). Here, “the Holy Spirit is given to the one who has been baptized—that is, purified [purificato]” (Rom 8:10 §3); “ill-disposed people”—like David “in the affair of Uriah”—are “no longer sinners,” because they “have been washed” (Rom 3:5 §§1–3). This sanative aspect of baptism is developed by Ambrosiaster in the next section of his commentary and identified by him as incorporated within his doctrine of justification. It also is in conflict with Cho’s view that Ambrosiaster “does not use medical process imagery in his exegesis of justification.”[26]

In summary, Ambrosiaster’s commentary on Romans presents a view of justification that is incorporated within a baptism that purifies and regenerates. In contrast to Cho’s view of Ambrosiaster’s “Reformational doctrine of justification,” Ambrosiaster also understood that by “the gift of baptism” the believer received “the forgiveness of sins.” His disregard of an ordo salutis and his incorporation of justification and purification within the act of baptism stands in contrast with Cho’s opinion that Ambrosiaster presented “between justification and sanctification … a systematic categorical division.”[27]

II. Justification As More Than Forensic

Contrary to Cho’s conclusion, Ambrosiaster’s understanding of justification included a sanative aspect. Cho states,

Ambrosiaster does not use medical process imagery in his exegesis of justification.… He describes justification as a legal liberation from two things. First, justification liberates believing sinners from their legal obligation to “pay off their debts to God” who is the divine judge. Those who believe in Christ receive mercy, not wrath, from God.… Second, justification liberates believing sinners from the penalty of eternal punishment immediately and completely when they believe in the promised Messiah.[28]

This thought by Cho is supported by a summary made by Bray with respect to Ambrosiaster’s view of justification by faith: “Where other ancient writers tend to think in intellectual terms, and regard the sinful state of fallen man as confusion and blindness, Ambrosiaster prefers to speak of guilt, of which the sinner is fully aware and for which he alone is responsible.”[29] Bray continues, “Ambrosiaster, by contrast [to Origen], eschews medical imagery.”[30] Bray wisely contrasts Ambrosiaster’s use of “medical imagery” with that of others. This is far different than saying, “Ambrosiaster does not use medical process imagery in his exegesis of justification.” With Cho, I agree that in ACR Ambrosiaster taught that justification sola fide involved mercy in place of wrath and a release “from the penalty of eternal punishment”;[31] however, beyond what was stated in the previous section and against Cho’s above insistence, Ambrosiaster also recognized a sanative aspect to justification. Four examples may sufficiently supply the necessary evidence to support Ambrosiaster’s understanding of justification as containing a sanative, purifying element.

(1) With respect to chs. 1–8 of Romans, Ambrosiaster states, “Above [Paul] seems to speak against the Jews, who think they are justified on account of the law.… Through their unbelief [they] deprive themselves of this everlasting and salutary benefit” (salutari beneficio; Rom 9:1 §§1–2). This salutari beneficio was grounded by Ambrosiaster in his view of the Son’s “extraordinary love for the human race, and the glorious stature of Christ and the unending promised reward” (Rom 9:1 §2)—“the promised reward” understood in teleological terms as conformity “to the image of the Son” (Rom 8:29 §§1–2). He later described these same Jews as those who “were blinded by their unbelief to the point that they could not be healed [ut curare non possent]” (Rom 11:11 §1; cf. 8:7 §2). Further, Christians, who “have been freely justified,” have also “been purified [purificati] by God’s gift” (Rom 12:1–2 §1b). These, then, are a few examples, among the others in this study, that identify justification with healing and purification, contra Cho’s “does not.”

(2) When commenting on Rom 7 Ambrosiaster states,

Adam built a ladder by which the plunderer climbed up to his children, had not the merciful Lord, moved by compassion, granted his grace through Christ, so that the human race, having been restored by the forgiveness of sins which it had received, may thereafter behold sin overwhelmed and condemned. That is to say it has been relieved and purified of evil [potest enim exonerates malis et purgatus], it is able to resist the adversary through the power it has received against him when it is helped by God.… One has been delivered from these [i.e., “a whole group of sins”] … by the grace of God through baptism. (Rom 7:24–25 §§1a–3)[32]

For Ambrosiaster the restoration between God and a person happens by the gift of the forgiveness of sins that relieves guilt (so also noted by Cho); however, this reconciliatory effect of “forgiveness of sins” also equates in the above quote with the purification of the soul. Here, the soul is dedicated to God, and by the power of the Spirit is able to fight against sin by the “grace of God through baptism,” which we remember also concerned for Ambrosiaster the justification of the soul. It appears, therefore, for Ambrosiaster, the baptized, justified soul—which is “purified of evil”—is now free, recalled to good habits, and able to reject evil suggestions with the help of the Holy Spirit (see also Rom 7:24–25 §5).

(3) Ambrosiaster’s comments on Rom 5 ground his understanding of justification as necessary for all and granted through the forgiveness available through Christ. He declares “it is impossible not to sin” and all are guilty of sin (Rom 5:14 §3; 5:20 §2e; cf. 3:23 §§1–3), but “the grace of God through Christ justified people … granting them forgiveness of sins … the gift of God’s grace not only forgives them but also justifies them” (Rom 5:16 §§1–2). These sentences need context, lest they are misunderstood.

For Ambrosiaster, the justified believers of Rom 5 also include “those who grasp the grace of God toward them. The ungrateful are those who refuse God when he calls them and reject the grace of God, so that they remain in a state of error and evil disposition [ut in proposito erroris et malignitatis permaneant]” (Rom 5:8 §2). How did Ambrosiaster understand this “state of error and evil disposition”—this inherent quality of mind and character—as removed for the justified? He explains, “The meaning above, then, is that … grace will reign all the more through the abundance of the gift of God that leads to life through the one person Jesus Christ.… Grace which justifies … grace which grants life through Christ, reigns!” (Rom 5:17 §2). This is “the life which comes from faith … the life to come” (Rom 1:17 §4). Ambrosiaster continues,

The seeds of righteousness were somehow implanted in nature itself.… Just as a newborn dies unless it has the nourishment by which, having been fostered, it matures, so too the natural capacity for righteousness does not readily develop, but becomes diseased [aegrotat] and gives in to sins that overcome it, unless it has something to be mindful of and to revere. It is overwhelmed by the habit of transgressing so that it does not develop fruit, and in this way it is extinguished. (Rom 5:20 §2b) 

Sin reigned by seeing its work lead sinners to death.… Grace, too, reigns in those who are obedient to it, when those to whom it granted mercy conduct themselves rightly, becoming heirs of eternal life through Christ. (Rom 5:21 §1–1a)

For Ambrosiaster, the nature of each person “becomes diseased,” because its natural capacity for righteousness has given in to sin. The “seeds of righteousness … implanted in nature itself … [do] not readily develop” because human nature is diseased. However, the “grace which justifies” “removes the state of error and evil disposition,” because it now “has something to be mindful of and to revere.”

We cannot fully discuss here Ambrosiater’s understanding of quasi in massa.[33] This much need only be stated toward the substantiation of the point of this section, that Ambrosiaster recognized the unsaved as diseased and given to a faulty epistemology.[34] He identified the grace that justifies and reigns through Christ with mercy, eternal life, and a diseased nature that changes. For he knew a salutari beneficio to justification that purified a person of evil by correcting a person’s wrong epistemological foundation.

(4) For Ambrosiaster, before Christ “every kind of covetousness worked in humankind” (Rom 7:8 §1). But for the person in Christ this condition of unsaved humanity (i.e., “a disordered state of nature”; 8:20 §1) changed. Why? He believes, “We are debtors of him who justified us, who were fouled by fleshly vices but then cleansed [ablutos] by the bath of the Spirit, who made [fecit] us children of God” (Rom 8:12 §1). For Ambrosiaster, “sinners … are restored through repentance, so that, no longer sinners but those who have been washed, [they] are deemed worthy to receive the promise” (Rom 3:5 §2). This promise is “of eternal life … through faith in Christ,” as noted in Rom 3:3 §1a. He elaborates,

The Spirit of God does not know how to sin; he was given for the purpose of justification, to justify by means of his assistance. Therefore, since he does not know how to sin, he is life.… The sinner will hurt himself, not the Spirit whom he received. Nor will the Spirit, who seeks to justify, be responsible [for a sinful life], he is the sign of justification in a person [iustificationis his est in homine], so that by that which dwells in him the justified person may appear [appareat] to be a child of God. (Rom 8:10 §§1–1a)

To summarize this fourth point, the justified are “cleansed” and “have been washed.” Because justification for Ambrosiaster had a sanative aspect, the Christian actually is able to serve God from within. The Spirit, who dwells in a Christian and who “seeks to justify,” is the sign of the cleansing “bath of the Spirit.” This Spirit is “the sign of justification in a person.” This indwelling Spirit makes the justified child of God actually “appear,” by way of their lifestyle, to be justified.[35]

John Behr understands that “the most important soteriological model which nourished [patristic theology] … was that of healing and salvation through sharing, solidarity, and exchange.” Neo-orthodox theologian Thomas Torrance had a similar perspective.[36] Given the thoughts of this section and the one preceding it, ACR may very well fit within this understanding of patristic soteriology and showcase Ambrosiaster’s explication of a justification that is more than forensic. The above view of Ambrosiaster’s doctrine of justification with its sanative, purifying element is left out by Cho’s explanation of it. If this view of Ambrosiaster’s doctrine of justification is true, the faith that justifies must also, as understood in ACR, be more than a faith that is defined strictly by forensic terms.

III. Faith As More Than Forensic

I argue in this section that Ambrosiaster’s understanding of a faith that justifies also included a faith in Christ’s incarnation and divinity which operated within a binding connection between his Christology and soteriology. This understanding of faith fitted squarely within the majority interpretation of both the Nicene and Chalcedonian creeds. After establishing this viewpoint, I support this view in two subsequent sections, “Context Matters” and “Two Cases in Point.”

For Ambrosiaster sola fide has as its object more than a forensic aspect grounded in Christ’s penal substitution. The term sola fide was not extraordinary in either the Latin or Greek fathers. It was used by Origen, Hilary, Basil of Caesarea, Jerome, Chrysostom, Ambrose, Marius Victorinus, Augustine, Cyril of Alexander, and Bernard of Clairvaux.[37] Hans Küng correctly notes the question with respect to sola fide is not “the formula itself but the meaning of the formula.”[38]

In both of his articles about Ambrosiaster, Cho appropriately defends the view that “Ambrosiaster continuously presents the exegetical defense of sola fide in Latin Christianity.”[39] This is true. Cho has also helpfully connected an aspect of sola fide to Ambrosiaster’s willingness to take a “legal approach to justification.”[40] This is also true, but it is not the only way Ambrosiaster understands justification. Three examples from ACR illuminate an aspect of Ambrosiaster’s view of sola fide that had more than a forensic element to it.

(1) In his commentary on Rom 4 Ambrosiaster states, “After the apostle showed that no one can be justified before God through works of the law [lex factorum], he makes the point that not even Abraham could merit anything according to the flesh” (Rom 4:1). “Accordingly, there is no need for the law when an ungodly person is justified by faith alone before God [per solam fidem iustificatur apud deum]” (Rom 4:5 §2). “The apostle is not speaking against the law, but he gives faith precedence over the law because those who could not be saved through the law are saved by the grace of God through faith” (Rom 4:15 §1). “Those who had been sinners through transgression of the law have now been justified” (Rom 4:15 §2). “[Faith] conveys one common gift. We obtained it because we believe. Once we believe that Christ is the Son of God, we are adopted by God as children” (Rom 4:23–25 §1). Indeed, Ambrosiaster understood the ungodly to be justified by faith alone; however, one aspect of this faith by which this justification is obtained is a faith “that Christ is the Son of God.”

(2) While commenting on Rom 3:20 Ambrosiaster states,

The reason [Paul] maintains that people are in no way justified before God is not that they did not keep the law of righteousness according to its commandments, but that they refused to believe the revelation of the mystery of God, which is in Christ [sacramentum mysterii dei, quod in Christo est]. (Rom 3:20 §1; cf. §4)

Justification is explicitly described here by Ambrosiaster in terms of those who believe in “the mystery of God, which is in Christ.” That is, Ambrosiaster’s object of faith is not here forensic in nature nor is its emphasis rooted in penal substitution. Rather, he explicitly unites justification and a person’s belief in the revelation of God’s mystery, which is in Christ, the incarnate One, the Son of God.[41]

(3) For Ambrosiaster, the gospel revealed the “mystery of God,” which is Christ. The justified “discover the mystery of the creator” (8:20 §1a). Within this proclamation of “the gospel of God,” sola fide enabled the believer to both “receive forgiveness of sins and become a child of God” (Rom 1:1 §5a) in the manner of Jesus Christ, who “increased in age and wisdom [proficiebat aetate et sapientia] (Luke 2:52), which certainly befits a human being” (Rom 1:1 §3). How should we understand “become a child of God” in the manner of Christ? Ambrosiaster sets the base line for this answer in this pericope, “He who was Son of God according to the Holy Spirit … was made Son of God according to the flesh of Mary, as in the verse: And the Word was made flesh (John 1:14). As a result … he is true God, so also was he a true human being.… [God] made him visible and corporeal … so that by his passion he might wash people from sins, death having been vanquished in the flesh” (Rom 1:3 §2). By way of the incarnation (i.e., the Word becoming flesh) Jesus Christ was and is the “true human being.” Belief in the Son’s incarnation for Ambrosiaster, was, as we have seen, part of his understanding of justification by faith. Two subpoints further establish this view and answer how Ambrosiaster understood what it meant to become a child of God in the manner of Christ.

(a) Concerning the ungodly, Ambrosiaster says “a cloud of error has covered their heart” (Rom 1:21 §3; cf. 1:24 §2; 2:1). They are unbelievers, who “disregard the meaning of the law, which has to do with the incarnation and divinity of Christ” (Rom 2:23). In his commentary on 1 Tim 1:15–16, Ambrosiaster further states, “He, in order to wash man of his sins, came from heaven to earth and took the flesh of sin, mingled with earthly reality in order to render man heavenly.”[42] As is the case of those who understand salvation as theosis (cf. 1 Pet 1:4), Ambrosiaster appears to make here an indissoluble link between Christology and soteriology.

(b) Ambrosiaster states that for the unredeemed “there is a veil around the heart that one who has turned toward God will cut away (see 2 Cor 3:16), because faith removes the cloud of error and bestows perfect knowledge of God in the mystery of the Trinity” (Rom 2:28–29 §2). This “circumcision of the heart means castrating the festering wound of error [amputetur putredo error] so that, after the truth has been revealed, the heart may be able to acknowledge that God the creator is the Father of Christ Jesus.… In this way God’s truth could be fulfilled. For he had promised that he would grant mercy” (Rom 15:8 §2).[43] God’s gift of mercy is grounded in a Trinitarian faith that addresses the “festering wound” of a person’s heart.

From these three examples, we note an aspect of sola fide that had more than a forensic element to it. Yes, in ACR justification concerned the granting of “mercy” and the “forgiveness of sins.” Ambrosiaster’s understanding of a faith that justifies, it appears, also included a faith in Christ’s incarnation and divinity which operated within a connection between his Christology and soteriology. As such, it identified with two important creeds in his day, namely, the Nicene homoousios (of the same substance) that insists on an unbroken connection both between the immanent-Trinity and the economic-Trinity and between God’s being and action. Further, though Ambrosiaster’s concepts are not as developed as what would be formulated in the Chalcedonian Creed, he also emphasized the hypostatic union of the one Person, Jesus Christ—fully God and fully man (e.g., Rom 1:3 §2; 8:10 §3a)—such that God’s divine revelation had ontological reality in the believer’s life.[44]

A person in Adam “consequently” lived in a “state of sin,” for “all sinned in Adam as in a lump” (Rom 5:12 §3); however, those in Christ conform to the image of the Son, the “true human being.” By way of the doctrine of the incarnation, which Ambrosiaster likened in ACR in Johannine terms to the Word becoming flesh, he understood that the sinful nature of the justified could change. On this matter, Ambrosiaster stood both on the foundation established much earlier by Irenaeus and shoulder-to-shoulder with Athanasius.[45] Similarly in our times, the neo-orthodox views of Karl Barth reflect a comparable view. One of Barth’s adherents, Thomas Torrance, insisted that this view is biblical and paramount.[46]

The incarnation was universally understood by the Latin and Greek fathers during the first five centuries as God penetrating into space and time and appropriating humanity’s sinful nature that was alienated from God and turned in upon itself.[47] Ambrosiaster’s theology of ACR fits within this understanding. Here, Jesus Christ, by way of his oneness with God, embodied the very self-communication and self-giving of God to humanity such that salvation could take place in the inner depths of the justified person and reconciliation with God could involve the primary essence of the new human being that constitutes the new creation in Christ. Here, for Ambrosiaster, the redeemed believer, who “receives forgiveness of sins and becomes a child of God” (Rom 1:1 §5a), is so because “God has deigned to adopt human beings as his children in accordance with the model of the Son … [who] was born, not made, before all of creation” (Rom 8:29 §3). Thus understood, the atoning union between God and humanity is also an incarnational union, where, as noted in Rom 15:8 §2, the believer—once in a “festering wound of error” [amputetur putredo error]—is redeemed, healed, and sanctified by his or her union with Jesus Christ. And, Jesus Christ not only mediates reconciliation between God and humanity, but constitutes it. Minus this aspect of salvific faith that is rooted in the incarnation, Christ’s atonement is typically understood primarily by way of external, forensic concepts. This, however, was not the case for Ambrosiaster. For him, the faith that enabled the believer to “receive forgiveness of sins and become a child of God” included a belief in the “incarnation and divinity of Christ” that brought about real change.

Ambrosiaster, it appears, knew a non-forensic aspect of sola fide for the justified, namely, a “Trinitarian faith” (see also Rom 4:23–25 §§2–2a) that has as its object not only faith in the forgiving, merciful Judge but also faith in Christ’s incarnation and divinity. Unless I have misunderstood Cho, this latter aspect of faith is not explicitly emphasized within his understanding of Ambrosiaster’s view of justification. In fairness to Cho’s work on the topic, he mainly attempts “to show that Ambrosiaster virtually anticipated the Reformation understanding of justification by faith alone” with its forensic aspect of justification sola fide.[48] This forensic element is indeed an aspect of Ambrosiaster’s view of justification. We misunderstand his full understanding of justification sola fide, however, if it does not also include the opportunity for dehumanized humanity—a dehumanization that occurred in the fall—to be saved, healed, and reunited to their Creator by Jesus Christ, who is the source and embodiment of the new creation, and “the model” for the Word becoming flesh in the redeemed, who are the body of Christ. Both of these aspects of sola fide are important in ACR: forgiveness and real change in Christ. Toward this latter point, we remember Ambrosiaster’s recognition of the unsaved as diseased and given to a faulty epistemology; what begins a person’s rectification toward the imago Dei is the gift of God in Christ. A further explanation of the historical context in which Ambrosiaster wrote further supports this view.

1. Context Matters

Both the early fathers’ and the sixteenth-century European reformers’ concepts of faith were shaped by the different battles they fought. Additionally, their understandings of sola fide are best known from the creeds they birthed and their commentaries that surrounded the creeds. Like the fathers, the European reformers equally asked what God did in Christ, albeit within the context of the Roman Catholic Church’s emphasis at that time on indulgences. For these reformers, the ontological questions concerning Christ had already been decided, and with respect to the larger issues at hand this discussion was not paramount.[49] Justification sola fide, for them, did not primarily concern a faith in Christ’s incarnation, the taking upon himself the likeness of flesh to redeem humanity from within. Luther’s view of justification provided peace with God and remedied his quandary, namely, a God he could not please, a system of poenitentia (remorse, penance) he could not master. It also arguably birthed a catechetical, agonizing-euphoric, law-gospel dialectic of iustitia Dei (righteousness of God) that is first wrath then forgiveness, a Christian who is simul iustus et peccator (at the same time righteous and a sinner), and a justification metaphor that is primarily forensic.[50]

Ambrosiaster’s comments on Romans are not without evidence of an objective reading of iustitia Dei, that is, a reading of iustitia Dei as “the imputed righteousness of Christ,” as so understood by Cho. But there is more to Ambrosiaster’s view of this term. McGrath understands that Ambrosiaster knew this term subjectively, that is, as related to God’s faithfulness to keep his New Covenant promise.[51] Ambrosiaster comments, “The righteousness of God pardoned those whom the law held fast as guilty.… The law … had said long ago that this would happen, that the one who would save humankind was going to come.… What appears to be mercy is called the righteousness of God because it originates from a promise, and when a promise of God is fulfilled, it is called the righteousness of God.… This righteousness of God consists in the manifestation of Christ” (3:21 §1–3:22 §1a; so also similarly with respect to Rom 1:17 §§1–3; 10:3). Ambrosiaster, it appears, understood iustitia Dei as a plenary genitive.

For Luther, the Christian is simul iustus et peccator.[52] With respect to justification he shifted, as Volker Leppin states, “the frame of reference from ontology to eschatology,” for “he no longer viewed matter and form as essential foundations of all reality, as Aristotle had, but presented humankind, understood in future eschatological form.”[53] Calvin followed him in this perspective of justification.[54] This view of justification now represents the majority opinion within Reformed theology as the fundamental truth of the gospel.[55]

Like the reformers, Ambrosiaster’s theology exemplified both the orthodoxy and the arguments of his day; however, in contrast to the reformers, his theology was contextualized by recent encounters with Arianism and Gnosticism. Further, he wrote when Apollinarianism was raging in Eastern Europe.[56] In summary, his thoughts were infused with the concepts crystalized in the Nicene Creed and his opposition to those who resisted its theology.[57]

Yes, for Ambrosiaster and his peers, as for the sixteenth-century European reformers, the key theological issue concerned what God did in Christ. But at this juncture of the development of Christian theology, the crucial dispute for Ambrosiaster—unlike for the European reformers—was Christ’s divinity and humanity. Today’s interpreters of Ambrosiaster’s thoughts must incorporate his context, as compared to the context of the reformers, into their explication of Ambrosiaster’s view of justification. Ambrosiaster’s historical, theological context provided for him two key aspects of theology within one event: the descent and ascent of the Son as both a movement of reconciliation—where evil is defeated by the atonement of guilt and the forgiveness of sins—and a movement of revelation—where the Son’s humility reveals and makes available to the justified person the path of obedience that redeems humanity. The Christian is called to join his or herself to this Christ event—one marked by death and resurrection, self-denial and exaltation. Here for Ambrosiaster, justification is still always sola fide and not by works, but the soteriological image of a vicarious, forensic sacrifice (though not absent) is also not pitted against an incarnational, Christus Victor one. Ambrosiaster had both elements in his understanding of justification. For justification sola fide involved for him a “Trinitarian faith” and a view of soteriology that was grounded foremost in the believer’s union with Christ by way of baptism. In like manner, though minus the association of justification with baptism, Reformed theologians John Murray and Michael Horton root the ground of the “great exchange” not in justification but in union with Christ “as an umbrella motif covering all the elements in the application of redemption.”[58]

If we say with Cho, “Ambrosiaster already taught a Reformational doctrine of justification prior to Augustine,” then the thoughts of contemporary Reformed theologians, whether they represent an orthodox or neo-orthodox view of the sixteenth-century Reformation (such as Murray and Horton or Barth and Torrance), should be part of this conversation. For Murray and Horton’s “union with Christ” is akin to Ambrosiaster’s understanding of water baptism, and Barth and Torrance’s challenge of Calvin’s “as if” righteousness is akin to Ambrosiaster’s justification by faith that concerns the start of the restoration of fallen humanity to the imago Dei.[59] Cho, however, defends his view of Ambrosiaster’s “Reformational doctrine of justification” minus the evidence in ACR that would support the viewpoints of these four twentieth- and twenty-first century theologians.

Cho correctly states that for Ambrosiaster, “‘Faith alone’ in Christ brought to an end the mandate to keep both the ritual and moral law as a way of justification. All this legal liberation and justification occur only by faith.”[60] His very next sentences read,

Although Ambrosiaster does not explicitly expound the role of faith in the union between Christ and believers, all his arguments presuppose it. In his comment on Gal 1:4 Ambrosiaster refers to union with Christ by faith in an indirect way: “But Christ not only made us alive again but also united us to himself by forgiving our sins so that we would be called the sons of God by faith.”[61]

The above aspect of Ambrosiaster’s understanding of justification sola fide (i.e., as an event that is more than forensic) could explain what Cho believes Ambrosiaster “presupposes” but does not explicate, namely, the “role of faith in the union between Christ and believers.” However, this view of faith by Ambrosiaster was not strictly extra nos nor only forensic and therefore not exactly representative of Cho’s argument that “Ambrosiaster already taught a Reformational doctrine of justification.”

2. Two Cases In Point

In this third main section, I have highlighted areas within ACR that portray justification sola fide to include also as its object of faith a belief in Christ’s incarnation and divinity. I have also explained how the contextual setting of Ambrosiaster, as compared to that of the sixteenth-century European reformers, caused him to frame differently his view of the faith that justifies. Here, in conclusion of this third main section, I demonstrate that Ambrosiaster’s explication of Rom 8:1–4 and 2:14–15 supports a view that he understood justification by faith as more than forensic.

If one knows the condition of humanity before Christ as “sick,” as did Ambrosiaster, then the tendency is to know atonement through therapeutic terminology. If one knows it only in terms of “guilt” or a “violation of God’s laws,” then the tendency is to know atonement by way of language that is forensic. Ambrosiaster’s understanding of justification had both elements in it. It was driven by anthropology, the “violation of God’s laws,” and Trinitarian theology, as was the case with other fathers, for example, Athanasius, Gregory of Nyssa, and Augustine. With these fathers, Ambrosiaster additionally championed a “soteriological model … of healing and salvation through sharing, solidarity, and exchange,” where a person’s justification was recognizable!

Only through this “soteriological model,” brought about by the Christian’s union with Christ in baptism, can we understand what Ambrosiaster meant in saying, “There will be no condemnation for those who are Christians, who keep the law of God with a devout soul [devotione animi]” (Rom 8:1).[62] Who is this devout soul? Ambrosiaster continues his explication of Rom 8:1–4,

Having been discharged from the terms of the law, we have become friends of that same law. For the justified are friends of the law. But how is righteousness fulfilled in us, if not when forgiveness is granted for our sins, so that, after sins have been removed, one may appear justified [iustificatus appareat] serving the law of God with his mind?… The devout soul, which is spirit, does not consent to the wish of sin. (Rom 8:4 §§1a–2)

Perhaps Ambrosiaster could have been clearer about the law in ACR and especially so with respect to justification sola fide. Nonetheless, as in the case of his comments on Rom 8:4, he consistently understood that the Christian “in fact fulfills the law” (Rom 9:31§1; cf. 6:17–18 §§1–2). This is true, because like Christ, who shows and makes the way for the Christian to descend and ascend, believers can also now love even their enemies. When “forgiveness is granted,” a Christian’s life is such that “one may appear justified” and this “devout soul” is known as “the justified,” who is a “friend of the law.” How is this possible?

Ambrosiaster wrote, “The law of the spirit [Rom 8:2] was written spiritually on tablets of the heart … so that it may make the entire person spiritual” (Rom 7:6 §5; cf. 3:31 §3; 7:5 §2; 15:8 §1). Similarly, by way of the lex fidei (law characterized by faith) “faith in Christ [is not] inimical to the law,” but for him is foretold when “the prophet Jeremiah prophesied saying … I will accomplish a new covenant” (Rom 3:31 §§1–3). This perspective allowed for Ambrosiaster to conceive of the Gentiles of Rom 2:12–16, who “do the law,” as “Christians who are uncircumcised,” “believing Gentiles.” By their belief in Christ, they have the law transferred to their “conscience,” “mind” (conscientia, mens; Rom 2:13–14; 2:15–16 §1). For Ambrosiaster, Jesus both “demonstrated” by the cross and “taught” during his life (Rom 13:10 §2a) this “overflowing and perfect righteousness” of not hating but loving an enemy (abundans et perfecta iustitia; Rom 13:10 §1–2). He states, “This is heavenly justice” (Rom 13:10 §2a).

This interpretation of Rom 2:12–15 and Rom 8:1–4 is not typically held by those who hold to the “Reformational doctrine of justification” as described above.[63] Ambrosiaster’s forensic and sanative view of justification sola fide undergirded his understanding of Rom 2:12–16 and 8:1–4. It may also challenge a textual choice by Cho.

IV. Excursus: What About Romans 3:24 §§1–2?

Ambrosiaster writes with respect to Rom 3:24,

They are justified through his grace. (1) They are justified freely [iustificati sunt gratis], because they do nothing nor render anything in return, but they are sanctified by faith alone [sola fide sanctificati] as a gift of God. 

Through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus. (2) The apostle bears witness that the grace of God is in Christ because by the will of God we have been redeemed by Christ so that we, having been set free, might be justified, as the apostle also says to the Galatians: Christ has redeemed us by offering himself for us. (Rom 3:24 §§1–2)[64]

Arguably Ambrosiaster presented here justification as the complete course of grace for a Christian and as a subsequent stage consequent to redemption.[65] However, Cho’s translation of Rom 3:24 §1 varies significantly from my above translation of it because of a variance in the text he has accepted for the first sentence of Rom 3:24 §1. He used for his text recensions α and β, which in this case are identical to recension γ except for one major distinction: in place of γ’s sanctificati, α and β have iustificati.[66] By this choice, Cho eliminated a possible conflict between his translation of Rom 3:24 §1 and his view that Ambrosiaster held a “Reformational doctrine of justification.” He translated Rom 3:24 §1 as, “They [i.e., believers] are justified freely, neither because they have labored nor because they have made a repayment, but by faith alone they are justified by the gift of God.”[67]

Cho acknowledges a “general theological unity of all three versions [i.e., recensions],” but in this instance confesses to “arbitrarily” choosing which recension he uses.[68] With respect to choosing between textual variations, the accepted wisdom is that as a rule the harder reading is preferred, the chosen recension should match the style and vocabulary of the author throughout the work, and the choice of text should best explain the origin of the other(s).[69] For those who choose recension γ of Rom 3:24 §1 (contra Cho), there is cause to substantiate all three of these reasons. If the rules are true ones, perhaps “arbitrarily” choosing between recensions is not necessary.

With respect to the first general rule of governance for the choice of a text, recension γ represents for Protestants the harder reading of the two; nonetheless, Protestants Bray and de Bruyn chose recension γ for Rom 3:24 §1. Why they did so is not specifically explained by them beyond perhaps my assumption that they have included themselves within the majority opinion that γ typically represents revisions done by Ambrosiaster.[70]

With respect to the second general rule, I have argued above that Ambrosiaster (a) presented in his commentary on Romans a sanative aspect to justification; (b) explained both justification and sanctification to have occurred freely by the Spirit; (c) did not maintain a strict division between justification and sanctification. Further, Ambrosiaster states,

To complete our justification [nobis iustificationis proficeret], when the Savior arose, he invested his commandments with authority (see Matt 28:20) so that by following them we might grow in the qualities through which we, having attained glory, may shine radiantly in the kingdom of God based on the pledge that we who have been justified cannot be held by death [qua iustificati a morte teneri non possumus]. (Rom 4:23–25 §§2a–3)

One notes here that iustificati is a perfect passive participle. That is, an understanding here of iustificati as a past event with ongoing ramifications is within reason. This is especially so if Ambrosiaster’s phrase “to complete our justification” indicates how the reader is to interpret this participle. Cho is correct, Ambrosiaster rejects “good works as a causative element to justification.”[71] In the above quote of Rom 4:23–25 §§2a–3 Ambrosiaster’s use of the perfect passive participle iustificati in tandem with his mention of what is necessary “to complete our justification” does not violate this perspective on good works, for his understanding of the entire salvific event is sola fide. Conceivably Ambrosiaster understood his use of sola fide sanctificati in Rom 3:24 §§1–2 as parallel to his thought of Rom 4:23–25 §§2a–3. If this is true, the phrase sola fide sanctificati of Rom 3:24 §1 γ may represent the initial purification of the heart (i.e., regeneration) where the truth of what is accomplished for those justified becomes a full reality sola fide as the Christian pilgrimages to that day. Keeping in mind the viewpoints presented in this point and the above three main sections of this study, we see that Rom 3:24 §1 γ does conceptually match the style and vocabulary of Ambrosiaster. Therefore, with Metzger’s second rule in mind, it is possible to consider γ as a textual option for Rom 3:24 §1.

With respect to the third general rule of governance for the choice of a text, Ambrosiaster’s tendency to revise his commentary on Romans toward the thoughts of the Nicene Creed may support a change of iustificati to sanctificati in Rom 3:24 §1. Theodore de Bruyn completes his thirty-four-page section, “The Transmission and Editions of the Commentary,” with this conclusion:

Unless there are strong reasons to suspect an interpolation, it is best to proceed conservatively and begin by assuming that additional comments introduced into a later version are from Ambrosiaster. It is to be expected that the process of revisions would not be seamless, particularly if Ambrosiaster is emphasizing a difficult or disputed point or if he is reacting to the view of others.[72]

De Bruyn has further wisdom to share: He admonishes the exegete to “proceed conservatively” when making textual choices, which is very different from Cho’s “arbitrarily.” Elsewhere de Bruyn also states, “Ambrosiaster was aware of contemporary developments in trinitarian theology, to the point of introducing new terminology [in his recensions] to express the coeternal and consubstantial divinity of the Holy Spirit.”[73] The change of iustificati in Rom 3:24 §1 recensions α and β to sanctificati in recension γ is not unjustifiable within this view of Ambrosiaster’s editorial process, for this possible revision by Ambrosiaster emphasizes the Spirit’s place within the economic Trinity. It is additionally justifiable when this possible revision by Ambrosiaster factors in his theological, Nicene context as described especially in the third full section of the present study.

In sum, Metzger’s advice on which recension to use bolsters Bray’s and de Bruyn’s choice of text for Rom 3:24 §1 γ over Cho’s Rom 3:24 §1 α and β. It may also clear up Nick Needham’s confusion about Bray’s translation of Rom 3:24 §1.[74]

V. Conclusion

Like most church fathers, Ambrosiaster linked Christology and soteriology to provide pastoral and practical advice. To that end, he understood the descent and ascent of the Son, which provided salvation by way of a “Trinitarian faith,” as both a movement of reconciliation and a movement of revelation. He knew this salvific event—which included a forensic, sanative aspect to justification—as grounded in the sacrament (sacramentum) of baptism that established the catechumen’s union in Christ and began new creation life. For Ambrosiaster, this sacramentum outwardly displayed an inward reality: the seed of Christ is planted in the believer’s heart sola fide in the sacramentum mysterii dei quod in Christo est; the Christian, who is dead in Christ and has the law written on his heart, now rises to walk in newness of life.

Ambrosiaster further believed that by “the incarnation of the Son of God for the salvation of humankind” (Rom 1:2 §3) Jesus Christ became the “true human being” (Rom 1:3 §2). The Son became a man in order to reconstitute humanity’s infirm condition and provide a pathway of grace sola fide into a radical new way of living for the justified by way of the new creation that reunited God and a person. As noted, Cho correctly highlighted several aspects of Ambrosiaster’s understanding of justification; however, this above summarized view of Ambrosiaster’s understanding of justification appears by this author to be absent in Cho’s rendering of it.

Notes

1. Joshua Papsdorf, “Ambrosiaster’s Theological Anthropology” (PhD diss., Fordham University, 2008), 3–23.
2. Ambrosiaster, Ambrosiaster’s Commentary on the Pauline Epistles: Romans, translated with notes by Theodore S. de Bruyn, with an introduction by Theodore S. de Bruyn, Stephen A. Cooper, and David G. Hunter, Writings from the Greco-Roman World 41 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2017), xxxi. Henceforth ACR. Unless otherwise noted, references from Ambrosiaster’s commentary on Romans are quoted from ACR. The same format used in this book to note paragraph divisions is adopted in this article. On rare occasions very slight modifications from ACR are made to accommodate placement in a sentence. Italicized words within these quotes from Ambrosiaster’s commentary are original. In this article, the Latin behind these English translations is given for two reasons: (1) to enhance the reader’s comprehension of what is translated in ACR; (2) because I have slightly altered the English translation found in ACR.
3. Maurice Wiles, The Divine Apostle: The Interpretation of St. Paul’s Epistles in the Early Church (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), 11.
4. Gerald Bray, introduction to Commentaries on Romans and 1–2 Corinthians, by Ambrosiaster, ed. and trans. Gerald Bray, Ancient Christian Texts (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2009), xix.
5. David Hunter, “Fourth Century Latin Writers: Hillary, Victorinus, Ambrosiaster, Ambrose,” in The Cambridge History of Early Christian Literature, ed. Frances Young and Lewis Ayres (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 309. So also noted by Gerald Bray, “Ambrosiaster,” in Reading Romans Through the Centuries: From the Early Church to Karl Barth, ed. Jeffrey P. Greenman and Timothy Larsen (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2005), 21.
6. Within Protestantism, see Alexander Souter, A Study of Ambrosiaster, Texts and Studies: Contributions to Biblical and Patristic Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1905); Thomas Oden, The Justification Reader, Classic Christian Readers (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002); Bray, “Ambrosiaster”; Daniel Williams, “Justification by Faith: A Patristic Doctrine,” JEH 57 (2006): 649–67. Within Catholicism, see Robert Eno, “Some Patristic Views on the Relationship of Faith and Works in Justification,” in Justification by Faith, ed. George Anderson, Lutherans and Catholics in Dialogue 7 (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1985), 111–30; Johannes Quasten, “Ambrosiaster,” in The Golden Age of Latin Patristic Literature, vol. 4 of Patrology (Notre Dame, IN: Christian Classics, 1986), 180–89; Desmond Foley, “The Christology of Ambrosiaster, Part 1,” MilS 39 (1997): 27–47; Desmond Foley, “The Christology of Ambrosiaster, Part 2,” MilS 40 (1997): 31–52.
7. Dongsun Cho, “Ambrosiaster on Justification by Faith Alone in His Commentaries on the Pauline Epistles,” WTJ 74 (2012): 277–90; Dongsun Cho, “Divine Acceptance of Sinners: Augustine’s Doctrine of Justification,” Perichoresis 12 (2014): 163–84.
8. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 290.
9. Cho, “Divine Acceptance of Sinners,” 163.
10. Cho, “Divine Acceptance of Sinners,” 167; cf. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 281.
11. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 277–81.
12. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 278, 283–84.
13. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 281.
14. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 281. See, for example, ACRRom 1:11 §2; 1:16–17; 3:24 §1; 4:5 §§2–3 (3x); 2:12 §1a; 3:24 §1; 9:28; 10:8 §2; 11:32 §1.
15. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 290. See also Douglas Moo, The Epistle to the Romans, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 298–99; Michael Horton, “Traditional Reformed View,” in Justification: Five Views, ed. James Beilby and Paul Rhodes Eddy (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2011), 83–111.
16. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 284. So also Cho, “Divine Acceptance of Sinners,” 167. For John Calvin, righteousness “is not in us” but rather by way of a forensic understanding of justification imputed to us “as if it were our own” (John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John McNeill, trans. Ford Lewis Battles [Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1960], 3.11.23 [p. 753]).
17. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 284–85; Cho, “Divine Acceptance of Sinners,” 164–67.
18. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 285, 290; see also Horton, “Traditional Reformed View,” 105–11; John Calvin, Commentaries on the Epistles of Paul to the Galatians and Ephesians, Calvin’s Commentaries (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2005), 152–53. With respect to Calvin’s duplex gratia, see Calvin, Institutes, 3.16.1 (p. 798); also John Calvin, Commentary on the Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the Romans (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1947), 277 (comment on 8:2).
19. Alexander Souter, The Earliest Latin Commentaries on the Epistles of St. Paul (Oxford: Clarendon, 1927), 80; Eno, “Some Patristic Views,” 115–17; Quasten, “Ambrosiaster,” 187–89.
20. Steven A. McKinion, ed., Life and Practice in the Early Church: A Documentary Reader (New York: New York University Press, 2001), 5–7.
21. McKinion, Life and Practice, 6.
22. Latin excerpts are taken from Ambrosiaster, Commentarius in epistulas Paulinas (ad Romanos), ed. Heinrich J. Vogels (CSEL 81/1). In Rom 4:8 §4, ACR does not have the word “because”; however, by way of “quia” in all three recensions of this text (α, β, and γ), my insertion of “because” is not unreasonable in this sentence: “… quae ex dono baptismatis consequimur, quia non solum remissionem peccatorum accipere nos, sed et iustificari et filios dei fieri profitetur …”
23. Joseph Lightfoot and J. R. Harmer, eds., The Apostolic Fathers, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1989), 203, 257–58, 276; John Behr, The Way to Nicaea, vol. 1 of Formation of Christian Theology (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2001), 34–35; Nick Needham, “Justification in the Early Church Fathers,” in Justification in Perspective: Historical Developments and Contemporary Challenges, ed. Bruce McCormack (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006), 34–35.
24. For variations of a typical Reformational understanding of ordo salutis, which includes regeneration, faith, repentance, justification, adoption, sanctification, see A. T. McGowan, “Justification and the ordo salutis,” in Justification in Perspective, 147–63.
25. Sinclair Ferguson, “Ordo salutis” in New Dictionary of Theology, ed. David F. Wright, Sinclair Ferguson, and J. I. Packer (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 1988), 480; Bruce Demarest, The Cross and Salvation: The Doctrine of Salvation (Wheaton: Crossway, 2006), 36–40; Simon Gathercole, “The Doctrine of Justification in Paul and Beyond: Some Proposals,” in Justification in Perspective, 219–41.
26. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 284.
27. Cho, “Divine Acceptance of Sinners,” 180.
28. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 284; italics added.
29. Bray, “Ambrosiaster,” 26.
30. Bray, “Ambrosiaster,” 28.
31. See, for example, Rom 1:29–32 §3a; 5:21 §§1–1a; 6:15 §§1–2; 8:15 §1.
32. I have translated enim in this quote as “that is to say” instead of de Bruyn’s “once.”
33. Ambrosiaster states, “All sinned in Adam as in a lump [quasi in massa] … corrupted by sin … all sinners derive from him, because we are all from him” (5:12 §3); see also Rom 7:14 §2–4; 8:3 §2; 9:21 §1; 11:16. Ambrosiaster’s understanding of anthropology is most recently discussed in Papsdorf, “Ambrosiaster’s Anthropology.”
34. How Ambrosiaster believed this faulty epistemology was corrected is further expounded by what follows.
35. For similar thoughts associated with abluō (wash, purify), see Rom 1:3 §2; 1:7 §2; 4:13 §1; 6:4 §§2–3; 6:5; 12:1–2 §1a.
36. Behr, Way to Nicaea, 75; Thomas F. Torrance, Incarnation: The Person and Life of Christ (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2015), 62.
37. Hans Küng, Justification: The Doctrine of Karl Barth and a Catholic Reflection, trans. Thomas Collins (Edinburgh: Nelson, 1964), 281; Needham, “Justification,” 29–30, 40–41.
38. Küng, Justification, 281.
39. See, for example, Cho, “Divine Acceptance of Sinners,” 165.
40. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 284.
41. For more on Ambrosiaster’s perspective of “the mystery of God, which is the mystery of Christ,” see Rom 1:1 §§1–5a; 1:16 §§1–4; 10:9–10 §1; and Cooper, introduction to ACR, lxxxi–xcvi.
42. CSEL 81/3:256–57, as quoted in Foley, “Christology of Ambrosiaster, Part 1,” 30.
43. With one minor exception, this quote is from Ambrosiaster, Romans and Corinthians, 109. I have translated amputetur putredo error as noted, replacing ACR’s “cloud” with “wound”—a translation more consistent with the use of nebus (cloud) elsewhere in Ambrosiaster’s comments on Romans (e.g., Rom 1:21 §3; 2:28 §2); putredo is used only here in ACR.
44. See also Foley, “Christology of Ambrosiaster, Part 1”; Foley, “Christology of Ambrosiaster, Part 2.”
45. Irenaeus states, “The word of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, through his transcendent love, became what we are, that he might bring us to be even what he is himself” (Irenaeus, preface to Against Heresies, Book 5 [ANF 1:526]). Athanasius, On the Incarnation, ed. John Behr, Popular Patristics 44a (Yonkers, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2011), 19–25, 69–73, 167.
46. Thomas F. Torrance, The Mediation of Christ (Colorado Springs: Helmers & Howard, 1992), 113. See also Torrance, Incarnation, 56–82, 105–81. Barth’s and Ambrosiaster’s views of natural law differ (cf. Rom 3:20 §4).
47. Torrance, Mediation, 10, 39–40.
48. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 281, 282–90.
49. For both Luther and Calvin, righteousness “is not in us” (i.e., it is extra nos), but rather by way of a forensic understanding of justification it is imputed to us; see Martin Luther, Lectures on Galatians, 1535: Chapters 1–4, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan, Luther’s Works 26 (St. Louis: Concordia, 1963), 234; Calvin, Institutes, 753. See also Volker Leppin, Martin Luther: A Late Medieval Life (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017), 122–23; and Dennis Biefeldt, “Ontology” in The Oxford Encyclopedia of Martin Luther, ed. Derek Nelson and Paul Hinlicky (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017), 1–21, which suggest further development of this idea, given the recent research by the Finnish School on Luther.
50. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 280.
51. Alister McGrath, Iustitia Dei: A History of the Christian Doctrine of Justification, 3rd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 72.
52. This phrase has been interpreted differently over the last 500 years. For a current, well-researched discussion of simul iustitia et peccator in light of the Joint Declaration between the Roman Catholic Church and the Lutheran World Federation on the doctrine of justification (JDDJ), see Timo Laato, “Simul Iustus et Peccator Through the Lenses of Paul,” JETS 61, no. 4 (2018): 735–66 (cf. Carl Trueman, “Simul peccator et justus: Martin Luther and Justification,” in Justification in Perspective, 73–98). Laato states, “The notion of simul iustus et peccator genuinely renders the core of the Pauline soteriology and anthropology”; for Laato, it means “Christians are ‘sinners (on account of evil desires) and righteous (for the sake of Christ) at the same time’” (pp. 764, 766). As argued here, this view of simul iustus et peccator as understood by Laato is not contrary to the statements found in ACR; neither Luther nor Calvin, however, would consistently define justification in sanative terms nor ever as related to a work of Christ in nobis (in us).
53. Leppin, Martin Luther, 122–23; also Phillip Cary, “Luther and the Legacy of Augustine,” in Remembering the Reformation: Martin Luther and Catholic Theology, ed. Declan Marmion, Salvador Ryan, and Gesa Elsbeth Thiessen (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2017), 37–54. This view is clearly annunciated in Martin Luther, “The Disputation Concerning Justification, 1536,” in Career of the Reformer 4, ed. H. T. Lehman, trans. Lewis Spitz, Luther’s Works 34 (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1960), 145–96.
54. Karla Wübbenhorst, “Calvin’s Doctrine of Justification: Variations on a Lutheran Theme,” in Justification in Perspective, 99–118; Joel Edward Kok, “The Influence of Martin Bucer on John Calvin’s Interpretation of Romans: A Comparative Case Study” (PhD diss., Duke University, 1993), 1–4, 169–74.
55. McGowan, “Justification,” 163.
56. Bray, “Ambrosiaster,” 24.
57. Quaestiones veteris et novi testamenti 97, 122 (CSEL 50:171–87, 369), as referenced by de Bruyn, introduction, lxxvii n. 2, lxxxiv n. 31. Unmarked phrases and concepts from this creed are scattered prolifically throughout ACR, for example, in Rom 1:1 §§2–3; 1:3 §2; 7:5 §1; 8: 3 §1; 8:7 §2; 8:29 §3; 9:33 §2–3; 10:9–10; 14:11 (so also understood by de Bruyn, introduction, lxxxii–xxxiii; lxxxvii n. 40).
58. Michael Horton, Justification, New Studies in Dogmatics 1 (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2018), 40; cf. John Murray, Redemption Accomplished and Applied (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 170; for a list of others, see Horton, Justification, 37. So also Richard B. Hays, The Faith of Jesus Christ: An Investigation of the Narrative Substructure of Galatians 3:1–4:11, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), xxix–xxxiii.
59. For example, Barth understood Rom 8:4a to include the creation of the “existential new man (Karl Barth, Epistle to the Romans, 6th ed. [New York: Oxford University Press, 1968], 282). Further, Barth states, “There is no room for any fears that in the justification of man we are dealing only with a verbal action, with a kind of bracketed ‘as if,’ as though what is pronounced were not the whole truth about man. Certainly we have to do with a declaring righteous, but it is a declaration about man which is fulfilled and therefore effective in this event, which corresponds to actuality because it creates and therefore reveals the actuality. It is a declaring righteous which without any reserve can be called a making righteous” (Karl Barth, The Doctrine of Reconciliation, Part 1, ed. G. W. Bromiley and Thomas F. Torrance, trans. G. W. Bromiley, CD IV/1 [Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2010], 95 [4.1.58.2]).
60. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 285.
61. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 285.
62. Recension α translates Rom 8:1 as “keep the law of God from the heart [animo],” recension β as “keep the law of God conscientiously [sollicite].” All three of these recensions (recension γ is quoted above) conditionally identify the state of “no condemnation” with the inner being of a person. Arguably Ambrosiaster’s Latin version of Romans was the Vetus Latina (Old Latin) referred to as I-type (de Bruyn, introduction, lvii n.1). In the case of Rom 8:1 the Vetus Latina mirrors the NA28, which in most English translations reads, “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus.” The Vulgate added the phrase “qui non secundum carnem ambulant” (who do not walk after the flesh).
63. For example, for Douglas Moo these Gentiles are “very unlikely” Christians, and the “man” in Rom 2:27 is an “allusion” (Moo, Romans, 150, 174); so also Stephen Westerholm, Justification Reconsidered: Rethinking a Pauline Theme (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013), 41. For Thomas Schreiner, Rom 2:15 references non-Christian Gentiles, but 2:27 denotes a reference to actual Gentile Christians, who have a “new heart” (Thomas Schreiner, Romans, BECNT 6 [Grand Rapids: Baker, 1998], 137–45).
64. This translation is my own but is almost identical to that of de Bruyn and Bray. It is based on recension γ for 3:24 §1 (ACR, 69; Ambrosiaster, Romans and Corinthians, 29).
65. So also understood by de Bruyn, Cooper, and Hunter, introduction to ACR, xcvii–cxiv.
66. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 281n21. The first sentence of recension γ for 3:24 §1 reads, “Iustificati sunt gratis, quia nihil operantes neque vicem reddentes sola fide sanctificati sunt dono dei.”
67. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 281.
68. Cho states, “I follow Papsdorf’s position on the general theological unity of all three versions even when I have to choose one of the three arbitrarily” (“Ambrosiaster,” 282n21).
69. Bruce Metzger, The Text of the New Testament: Its Transmission, Corruption, and Restoration, 3rd ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 207–10.
70. Recension γ (early to mid 380s) represents a later recension than α and β (late 370s to early 380s).
71. Cho, “Ambrosiaster,” 288.
72. de Bruyn, introduction to ACR, lv.
73. Theodore de Bruyn, “Ambrosiaster’s Revisions of His Commentary on Romans and Roman Synodal Statements about the Holy Spirit,” REAug 56 (2010): 45–68.
74. Needham states, “For some reason, in Bray, 101, the first occurrence of the phrase justificati sunt in this passage has been translated ‘justified’ whereas the second has been translated ‘made holy.’ This obscured Ambrosiaster’s meaning. Perhaps the translator was working from a variant text” (Needham, “Justification,” 40n44).

A SERIOUS WARNING - Losing the Anointing by David Wilkerson

The Lord’s Anointed In The Books Of Samuel

By Greg Goswell

[Greg Goswell is Academic Dean and Lecturer in Biblical Studies (Old Testament) at Christ College, Sydney, an affiliated college of the Australian College of Theology.]

Abstract

In the book of Samuel a messianic ideal is set forth in the persons of Saul and David, though it is also made clear that both leaders fail in their performance. The key aspects of the ideal are already present in the Song of Hannah (1 Sam 2:1–10): there is a strong bond between Yhwh and “his anointed,” the person anointed derives power from God, and he owes obedience to God. In the subsequent narrative, these three key features are developed along the following lines: the anointed one is pictured as fighting the Lord’s battles, the standard of behavior expected of him is nothing less than perfection, and the person of the Lord’s anointed is inviolate. These recurring motifs amount to a significant theological pattern and have the effect of fostering the hope of the coming of one who would fulfill this ideal, though that aspiration is not explicitly stated in the book.

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Whatever view is taken of the concept of the Messiah in the OT, an essential starting point for thinking on this subject is the book(s) of Samuel, though this way of approaching the subject is not obvious to all.[1] The reason usually given is that those referred to under the title “the Lord’s anointed” (and variants on this title) and the persons who are anointed in Samuel are historical figures (notably Saul and David) and are reigning kings rather than eschatological figures. On that basis Joseph Fitzmyer quickly surveys and dismisses the passages in Samuel that will be the focus of my study, in each case declaring that they are devoid of messianic connotation; furthermore, he sums up his brief study by saying that they do not even hint at messianic expectation.[2] My argument to the contrary is that Saul and David are depicted as messianic figures in such a way that their position and roles presage a royal personage promised by God. Though the book of Samuel is not explicit concerning the prospect of a future ideal ruler in the Davidic line, the experiences of Saul and David present a messianic paradigm that helps to shape what God’s people are to expect to see in the coming messianic figure.

I. A Book About David? The Contribution Of Titrology

The usual English title of the book(s) of Samuel, derived from the Vulgate Liber Samuelis, coincides with the Hebrew naming of the book(s) (שׁמואל) after the first of its three main characters, Samuel, Saul, and David, whose interconnected lives and fates are recounted. The lives of Samuel, Saul, and David are intertwined in such a way that they follow a similar pattern, with each foreshadowing and reflecting the others as the narrative progresses.[3] This pattern is introduced to the reader in Hannah’s Song (1 Sam 2:4, 7–8). The pattern could be called the “rise of the lowly, fall of the mighty,” with Samuel, Saul, and David each enjoying a rise and then suffering a fall.[4] A partial climax in that history is found in Samuel’s (falsely supposed) farewell speech in 1 Sam 12, but Samuel is not accepting retirement, and he says he will continue to pray for and instruct the people and their king (1 Sam 12:23). He has important roles in 1 Sam 13, 15, and 16, and he is mentioned again in 19:18–24. Samuel’s death notice only comes in 25:1, and even then he returns one more time to haunt Saul (1 Sam 28). Samuel, in effect, superintends the career of Saul from its beginning to its end. Samuel is not featured at all in 2 Samuel, but his epochal role in anointing Saul and David is justification enough for the joint-book to be named after him. This encourages a reading that sees the messianic theology of the book as reflecting the concerns of prophetic circles. On that basis, it comes as no surprise that there are important roles for prophets in 2 Samuel, especially Nathan (chs. 7, 12) and Gad (ch. 24).[5]

On the other hand, Antony Campbell sees the book(s) of Samuel as being about David and orientated toward David (and his dynasty) from the beginning. It is true that Samuel is less visible after he has anointed David, which prompts Campbell to assert that “Samuel’s life-work is finished by 1 Sam 16:13.”[6] If that conclusion is accepted, a more appropriate title for the book would be “David,” although this possibility may have been excluded by the fact that the name “David” was early used as a way of referring to the book of Psalms.[7] A contrary viewpoint is provided by Diana Edelman, who understands the book of 1 Samuel as a “narrative about Saul,”[8] and certainly it concludes with the death of Saul (ch. 31). Perhaps nothing is to be gained by adjudicating what is likely to be a perennial dispute among scholars, for the good reason that there is a special interest within the book in the persons and personal characteristics of all three protagonists, and the theology of the book will only be accurately discerned if all three characters are given their proper place. Later OT texts strongly link messiahship to the Davidic tradition (e.g., Isa 7, 9, 11; Jer 23; Ezek 34), but the fact remains that the book of Samuel does not see the David-connection as all that needs to be said when presenting a messianic theology.

Notice of a significant death, that of Saul (2 Sam 1:1: “After the death of Saul”) is the trigger for the division of the larger book into two (1 and 2 Samuel) in the Greek canonical tradition (cf. Josh 1:1; Judg 1:1; 2 Kgs 1:1; 1 Chr 29:28).[9] It marks the beginning of the new era of David, yet it breaks the “Rise of David” sequence that began in 1 Sam 16, and the spectre of the house of Saul continues to hang over David throughout 2 Samuel in the persons of Ishbosheth, Michal, Mephibosheth (and Ziba), Absalom (the handsome competitor who seeks David’s life), and Shimei. On that basis, it is not clear that the book’s partition can be justified. Viewing 1 Sam 31 as an endpoint, however, turns 1 Sam 9–31 into a story about Saul and not a section detailing the rise of David (which does not end until 2 Sam 5). With regard to the division into the two books of Samuel, in the folio Bomberg edition of 1518 the numeration of the chapters begins anew at 2 Sam 1 (and at 2 Kgs 1, Neh 1, and 2 Chr 1), but the division is not recognized in the text itself (with separate book titles).[10] The book’s name, together with the point at which the unified book is divided (the changeover of Saul to David), highlights the leadership issue. It must not be forgotten that the first messianic figure on show in the book is Saul (see below).

The alternative names given in the Greek (and Latin) tradition for the books of Samuel, namely the (first and second) books of “Reigns” or “Kingdoms,” is approved by some commentators as “more apposite.”[11]The connection of the books Samuel and Kings is broadly accepted, and their linkage in the Greek Bible as Kingdoms 1–4 shows that many ancient readers saw their obvious relation as a history of kingship from its rise to its demise. This title highlights the transition to kingship that is plotted in the book of Samuel and throws the focus upon Saul and David as the first two kings. The book of Samuel gives a theological authorization to human kingship in Israel, yet the book is also alive to the dangers of this institution (e.g., the failure of Saul and the portrait of a faulty and inept David in 2 Sam 11–20). The title “Kingdoms” does not, therefore, have to be understood as a naïve endorsement of kingship as a trouble-free institution. If a messianic ideal is set forth in Samuel, it is also made plain that both Saul and David fall short of that ideal.

II. The “Anointed” Texts

The present study is not as such a word study, though every use of the root משׁח in the book of Samuel, both as a noun and a verb, will be examined.[12] What is immediately obvious from a survey of nominal uses of the root is that the noun (משׁיח) is always determined, either by a pronominal suffix, “his anointed” (1 Sam 2:10; 12:3, 5; 16:6; 2 Sam 22:51) or “my anointed” (1 Sam 2:35), where the suffix refers to Yhwh. Related are those instances where the noun is part of a Hebrew construct chain, usually “the Lord’s anointed” (1 Sam 24:6 [MT 7] [2x], 10 [MT 11]; 26:9, 11, 16, 23; 2 Sam 1:14, 16; 19:21 [MT 22]) and once in a poetic passage, “the anointed of the God of Jacob” (2 Sam 23:1). This practice is by no means an unusual occurrence in the OT; for example, in the Psalter the expressions that come closest to “the Messiah” are “his anointed” (e.g., Ps 2:2; 18:50), “your anointed” (132:10), and “my anointed” (132:17), with the personal pronoun referring in each case to Yhwh, and the titular designation “Messiah” is not found.[13] This construction suggests a strong bond between Yhwh and the person anointed and also implies the exalted position enjoyed by the royal figure (cf. the deferential way in which God and Saul are paired in the speech by the prophet Samuel in 1 Sam 12:3 and 5).

The verb “to anoint” (משׁח) is used some fourteen times. These verbal occurrences make the point that the person (Saul or David) was anointed by Yhwh (1 Sam 10:1; 15:17; 2 Sam 12:7), by the prophet under divine instruction (1 Sam 9:16; 15:1; 16:3, 12, 13), or by the people through their own representatives (2 Sam 2:4, 7; 3:39 [probably]; 5:3, 17; 19:10 [MT 11]).[14] Regarding the last category, except in the case of Absalom (2 Sam 19:10 [MT 11]), the action of the people is not out of step with God’s purposes and reflects popular knowledge that David was the one whom God wished to be their ruler (cf. the claim made by the Northern tribes in 2 Sam 5:2b: “and the Lord said to you, ‘You shall be shepherd of my people Israel, and you shall be prince over Israel’”). There may be an element of flattery or of pious embellishment in what they say, in an effort to talk David into accepting their offer of the throne, though they do claim to be in step with God’s revealed will. Even though this is an unsubstantiated quotation, it is credible for it does sound like the way God himself speaks, as demonstrated by comparison with what God is quoted as saying to Samuel before his meeting with Saul in 1 Sam 9:16. There we see the phrase “my people Israel” as well as another divine idiom, “prince” (נגיד) in preference to “king” (מלך).[15] In both cases, the wording attributed to God shows that in condoning the appointment of a human king, God is not giving up his crown rights over his covenant people.

III. The Speeches Of Hannah And Abigail

The Song of Hannah (1 Sam 2:1–10) as the theological overture for the book prepares for all that follows. In particular it anticipates the rise of kingship as an indigenous Israelite institution. It is matched by David’s hymn in 2 Sam 22 (supplemented by “the last words of David” in 2 Sam 23:1–7), forming a poetic and theological inclusio around the canonical book. The link between the two poems is not just by means of shared vocabulary but also by plot development, for the poem by Hannah, the mother of Samuel, is echoed by David, who is anointed by Samuel.[16] The final note of this imbedded poem is “he [Yhwh] will give strength to his king, and exalt the power of his anointed [משׁיחו]” (2:10b).[17] This is the first use of “anointed” in the book, and it sets trends that nothing subsequent in the canonical book disputes or corrects. The parallel of “his king” and “his anointed” makes it plain that a royal figure is in view (the same expressions are found in parallel in 2 Sam 22:51 and are explicitly linked to “David and his descendants”), though the term is not limited to kings in the OT.[18] The point made is that the Lord’s worldwide rule guarantees the success of his anointed king, who is dependent on God for strength. In keeping with the rest of the poem, in which Hannah generalizes on the basis of her own experience of providence and depicts the Lord as a God who regularly puts down the proud and exalts the humble (vv. 4–8), and in which human might cannot guarantee success (v. 9), we are told that it is the Lord who gives strength to his king (as he did to Hannah),[19] and the Hebrew pronominal suffixes on “his king” and “his anointed” stress that he derives power from God and owes obedience to him. God “will exalt the horn [קרן] of his anointed” (2:10b), and at the end of the joint-book, in a poetic synoptic passage to Ps 18, David praises Yhwh as “the horn [קרן] of my salvation” (2 Sam 22:3), acknowledging that it is God who gave him victory over his enemies and claiming that this is because David is “blameless before him” (22:24).

The next use of the noun משׁיח in the book of Samuel is found in a long speech in which a prophetic figure (“a man of God”) announces God’s rejection of the priestly line of Eli (2:27–36). God says to Eli that he will raise up a replacement priest, who will walk to and fro before “my anointed [משׁיחי]” (2:35). This text assists a proper evaluation of what was earlier said by Hannah, who foretells the rise of kingship before the actual introduction of kingship into the Israelite constitution (2:10b). The startling announcement by Hannah need not be viewed as a secondary accretion,[20] but is to be viewed as a prophecy, though not explicitly designated as such in the biblical text. This construal is supported by 2 Sam 23:1–7, which links to 1 Sam 2:1–10 to form an envelope around the canonical book of Samuel, for “the last words of David,” in which he is recorded as calling himself “the anointed of the God of Jacob” (23:1), claim to be inspired speech (23:2: “The Spirit of the Lord speaks by me, his word is upon my tongue”),[21] such that Hannah is depicted as predicting the future rise of kingship before the institution was introduced in Israel. A reading of the book of Samuel in its canonical shape must identify the anointed one foretold by Hannah as David (with Saul as his messianic predecessor). But does this historical fulfilment exhaust the prophecy of Hannah? Perhaps not, for the heightened theology of the poetic frame leads some scholars to posit that the book of Samuel has a messianic flavor.[22]

1 Samuel 25 opens with the long-delayed death notice of Samuel (25:1), and Abigail takes his place, as shown by her speech to David in which she says things that only a prophet would know.[23] Abigail in 25:28 expresses the same two features found in 2:10b in what amounts to an important conceptual verse: “the Lord will certainly make my lord a sure house [נאמן בית],[24] because my lord is fighting the battles of the Lord; and evil shall not be found in you as long as you live.” As she explains, David is given victories by God, on behalf of whom he fights in “the Lord’s battles” (cf. 17:37; 18:17), and it is God who preserves David from sinning by incurring blood-guilt, in the present instance achieving this through the timely intervention of Abigail herself. Abigail prevented David from taking personal vengeance and falling into sin, as David himself acknowledges (25:32–34). Surrounding the account of the sparing of Nabal are two other instances of David’s restraint, where he spares Saul (chs. 24 and 26), and these stories create bookends around the Abigail story.[25] As was the case with Hannah, a woman expresses the theological concerns of the narrative that is at pains to depict a successful and faultless David.

IV. A Messianic Paradigm

Saul’s experiences provide a model of what is involved in being the anointed one.[26] We see the pattern of Saul as God’s choice (9:16), Saul’s anointing (10:1), his endowment with the Spirit of God (10:10; 11:6), and public proof of his charisma as provided by his victory over God’s enemies, the Ammonites (ch. 11).

In line with this theological schema, the same pattern recurs in the experience of David as God’s choice (16:1–3), an anointing with oil at the hands of Samuel (16:13a), Spirit-endowment (16:13b), and victory over God’s enemies, this time the slaying of Goliath the Philistine (ch. 17). In other words, this messianic paradigm is seen for a second time in the person of David.[27] Knierim goes as far as to the claim that a messianic theology lies behind the structuring of all of 1 Sam 9–31.

According to Knierim, what is on display is a prophetic-theological understanding of the place and role of the king, for both Saul and David are anointed at the hands of Samuel,[28] and this action is in line with later anointings by Elijah and Elisha (1 Kgs 19:16; 2 Kgs 9:3, 6, 12).[29] Indeed, in each case the prophet is explicitly instructed by God to anoint a particular person,[30] and the wording used by the prophet on these occasions makes it clear to the appointee that it is God who is anointing him (e.g., 1 Sam 10:1: “Has not the Lord anointed you to be prince over his heritage?” [RSV modified in line with the MT]; cf. 15:1, 17).[31] Knierim reads this emphasis as a prophetic corrective to older views, the point being that the anointed one is not authorized to rule by the people, but by Yhwh,[32] and so the one anointed must follow the instructions of God via his prophet. Certainly, the cause of Saul’s downfall is that he listened to the people rather than to divine instruction mediated through his prophet (13:13; 15:20, 24).

1. The Victorious Messiah

The anointed one is pictured in the book of Samuel as he who is fighting the Lord’s battles, and it is Saul’s defeat of the Ammonites that proves to his detractors that he is the God-appointed savior of Israel.[33] The rude question, “How can this fellow save us?” (1 Sam 11:27 [root ישׁע]) sets up the issue to be resolved in the textual unit that covers 10:26–11:13, and the sudden eruption of the Ammonite crisis gives Saul the opportunity he needs to show what he is capable of doing.[34] The aim of the unit is to show that Saul was wrongly despised, for he is the God-ordained savior of God’s people. Later, in 11:13, Saul hails his victory as the “salvation” (תשׁועה) won by the Lord. The section runs from 10:26 (after the dismissal of the assembly) to 11:13 (a climactic statement by Saul). Through the use of sequences similar to the book of Judges, Saul is portrayed as a judge-like deliverer: the distress (11:1–4), his possession of the Spirit (11:6), the mustering of the tribal levy (11:7–8), and the annihilation of the enemy (11:11). Indeed, Saul enjoys considerable success against the enemies of Israel (14:47–48). The other side of the coin is that Saul’s ineptitude as a military commander in the face of the Philistine threat in Sam 14 is a sign of his rejected state, and this may also be the explanation for his fear in 17:11 and 28:5.[35] As summarized by Knierim, “The function of the anointing charisma is that Yahweh grants victory to the anointed, and through him to the people.”[36]

The motif of military success is especially prominent in the presentation of David, starting with his defeat of Goliath, and in that uneven contest David confesses his reliance on God’s help for victory (1 Sam 17:37–40, 45–47, 48–51). This is only the first of many triumphs (cf. 18:5: “And David went out and was successful wherever Saul sent him”), such that he rivals his master Saul in his military achievements, both in the estimation of the people (18:7) and in reality (18:30). The explanation of David’s outstanding success was that “the Lord was with him” (18:14; cf. 16:18b). Later, in the supposed service of Achish, David continues to defeat and destroy the enemies of Israel, especially the Amalekites (27:8–12; 30:17–19). After the death of Saul, David gets the better of the forces of Ishbosheth (2 Sam 3:1), and David’s military successes are one of the reasons stated by the Israelite tribes for why they wish him to reign over them (5:2: “it was you [not Saul] that led out and brought in Israel”). The two decisive victories over the Philistines in 2 Sam 5:17–25 cause David to think that his fighting days are over and that it is a time of “rest” (7:1), but he is mistaken (7:11a: “and I [God] will give you rest”).[37] In line with this way of reading the text, the placement of 2 Sam 8 is apposite for it follows in chronological sequence after ch. 7 and provides a listing of David’s victories (8:1a: “After this…” [אחרי־כן ויהי]).[38] On that basis, God’s promise of rest from enemies in 7:11a can be viewed as foreshadowing the developments described in ch. 8,[39] which records the victories of David (“And the Lord gave victory to David wherever he went” [8:6, 14]). In line with this reading, the superfluity of references to David by name in ch. 8 emphasizes the exaltation of the king and his military triumphs.[40] Many scholars discount the chronological connector at 8:1a and suggest that ch. 7 is in reality later in time than ch. 8,[41] but the temporal succession is confirmed by the promise of a great name (7:9b: “and I will make for you a great name, like the name of the great ones of the earth”), which is fulfilled in the victories of ch. 8 (esp. v. 13: “so David won a name for himself”). This chapter is, therefore, the highpoint in the presentation of the messianic ideal of the Lord’s anointed as a military victor.

2. The Messiah Must Be Perfect

The standard of God for his anointed is very high, in fact he is required to be faultless.[42] Saul’s apparent reluctance to become leader of God’s people establishes him as a sympathetic character in the eyes of the reader (9:21; 10:22; 11:5), and his hesitancy in accepting the role may be due to a realization of its inherent difficulty (how was he to please both God and the people?). Saul sins and is rejected by Yhwh. One sin is enough to ensure Saul’s judgment (ch. 13), and he is told that his kingdom will not continue (13:13–14). The reader is provided with two examples of Saul’s disobedience to a prophetic command. The account of the repeat offence is not superfluous (ch. 15), but clarifies any ambiguities in the first, for it confirms Saul’s guilt and shows that his disobedience is not an aberration, but a character trait. In this way, it justifies Yhwh’s harsh judgment.[43] In 1 Sam 14, Jonathan acts as a foil for Saul, showing the attitudes and actions that Saul should display, but does not (e.g., his trust in God’s ability to give victory [14:6]). Samuel’s sorrow over the rejection of Saul is another sign of the sympathetic treatment of the first king by the narrator (15:35; 16:1), but Saul is not rejected by God for no reason, and God’s choosing of David need not be seen as unfair favoritism.[44]

In contrast to Saul, David repeatedly passes the test, for he does not sin by taking action against Saul, as Jonathan points out when defending David to his father (1 Sam 19:4–5: “Let not the king sin against his servant David; because he has not sinned against you”). In this matter, David also claims to be without guilt (20:1, 8). He twice spares Saul’s life, and these occasions give David the opportunity to declare his innocence (24:9–17; 26:18), and for Saul himself to confirm David’s mercy (24:17–19; 26:21). In the intervening narrative, David recognizes Abigail as God’s agent in preventing him from incurring blood-guilt by slaying Nabal (25:32–34). In a highly ironic twist on this theme, Achish is convinced of David’s blamelessness (29:3, 6, 9), even though the reader knows that David has been playing him for a fool (27:8–12). Later, David is shown to be innocent of the deaths of Saul, Ishbosheth, and Abner (2 Sam 1:15–16; 2:5; 3:28, 39; 4:9–12).[45]

After this long record of faithfulness, David’s position is confirmed by way of covenant in 2 Sam 7, [46] God promising to treat his house differently to that of Saul (7:14–15: “When he commits iniquity … but I will not take my steadfast love from him, as I took it from Saul, whom I put away from before you”). However, from this point onwards David can virtually do nothing right (2 Sam 10–20),[47] with David failing both as a father and as a king. David’s private failings, particularly his failings as a father, impact his public role and success as king.[48] It could be argued that his sin of taking Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite, is worse than any sin committed by Saul (ch. 11), a sin replicated in the sexual misdemeanours of his sons Amnon, Absalom, and Adonijah. It is Nathan the prophet who confronts David with his sin (ch. 12), just as it had been Nathan who communicated the gracious promise of God (ch. 7). The two chapters stand in stark contrast with each other.[49] Would David’s heinous sin or God’s gracious promise have the final say over David’s life? David’s response to Nathan’s confrontation differs sharply from that of Saul when confronted by Samuel in a comparable situation. Saul tried to excuse what he had done (1 Sam 13:11–12; 15:15, 20–21, 24), whereas David is quick to confess his sin (2 Sam 12:13a), but this cannot fully explain the immediate offer of mercy (12:13b). Despite David’s faults, God remains true to his covenant pledge of 2 Sam 7, and the narrative logic of the book implies that this is the only reason David is maintained as king and not rejected as was Saul. Due to the covenant that God made with David, messianism in the OT from this point on is irrevocably linked to the election of David and his descendants.

3. The Messiah Is Sacrosanct

The person of the Lord’s anointed is sacrosanct,[50] such that Saul enjoys immunity and his anointing is of an indelible character. On that basis, due to the fact that the king is “the Lord’s anointed,” David refuses to kill Saul. David shows this restraint, despite the urging of others, and his response to those who urge him to act against Saul provides the opportunity for the motivation of his behavior to come to light (24:6 [MT 7], 10 [MT 11]; 26:9, 11, 16, 23),[51] and this is also David’s voiced explanation for his violent reaction to the Amalekite who claimed to have killed Saul (2 Sam 1:16). It is not necessary to judge David’s actions as ultimately self-serving, that is, David, with an eye to the future, does not want to create a dangerous precedent, and so he refrains from attacking Saul, for, as the Lord’s anointed, he too wants to enjoy a similar immunity from attack.

On the first occasion that David has an opportunity to dispatch Saul (1 Sam 24), he only goes as far as to cut off “the skirt [כנף] of Saul’s robe” (v. 4 [MT 5]), but even that action is afterward a matter of regret to him (v. 5 [MT 6]), though the piece of cloth is held up as visible proof that David has had Saul in his power and refrained from killing him (v. 11 [MT 12]). Earlier, the tearing of “the skirt of [Samuel’s] robe” (15:27–28) was used by Samuel as a sign and portent of the loss of the kingdom by Saul (cf. 1 Kgs 11:30–31), such that the action of David, consciously or unconsciously, here plays the same symbolic role.[52] Fokkelman views the “robe” (מעיל) motif as referring to monarchy, and he links the incident to Jonathan stripping off his “robe” (same Hebrew term) and giving it to David, the dynastic successor to Saul renouncing his right to the throne in favor of David (18:4).[53] At the same time, another nuance of “skirt, hem, wing” (= penis) may be at work in the present narrative (cf. Deut 22:30 [MT 23:1]; 27:20),[54] such that the cutting off (root כרת) of Saul’s offspring is also hinted at in the action of David. This interpretation is supported by the assurance of protection (reusing the root כרת) asked of David by Saul in this chapter (24:21–22 [MT 22–23]; cf. the similar request by Jonathan in 20:14–17).

On the second occasion that David has Saul in his grasp (1 Sam 26), he steals Saul’s “spear” (26:12), an object that earlier in the book was a symbol of his royal authority, for, on several formal occasions, Saul was depicted as seated and holding his spear (18:10; 19:9; 22:6). Additionally, the spear was the weapon that was used by Saul more than once against David in an effort to kill him (18:11; 19:10). Therefore, in taking Saul’s spear, David not only disarms him, he can be understood to symbolically strip Saul of his authority to rule. David suggests an arrangement whereby the spear may be returned to Saul (26:22), leaving the removal of Saul from office to God’s prerogative, which is where it belongs, for there is a protective taboo around Saul as the Lord’s anointed. Without actually physically harming Saul, David’s action subtly indicates what he hopes God in due time will do. David will leave it to God to “smite” (root ًâَ) Saul (26:10), using some other agency than David (age, disease, or falling in battle), just as the demise of Nabal was attributed to God smiting him (25:38 [using the same Hebrew root]),[55] and God’s action against Nabal may have encouraged David to leave matters in God’s hands.[56]

The Philistine menace was a major reason for the move to make Saul king. In 1 Sam 7 they are the threat, and the request by the elders for a king is so that he may “go out before us and fight our battles” (8:20).[57] Yet in their every appearance in the narrative the Philistines assist the rise of David.[58] The victory of 1 Sam 14 is Jonathan’s and not Saul’s. David’s successes against the Philistines (including Goliath) advance him at Saul’s expense in terms of public perception and popularity (18:7). Saul’s attempt to use the Philistines to destroy David misfires and David becomes his son-in-law (18:20–29). The Philistines recognize David’s kingship early in the story (21:11: “Is not this David the king of the land?”). David finds a refuge from Saul among the Philistines (ch. 27), and finally Saul is slain in the battle against the Philistines on Mount Gilboa (ch. 31). Most notable for our purposes, it is the Philistines themselves who prevent David’s involvement in that fateful battle (ch. 29),[59] whereas if he had fought alongside the Philistines, he would have been implicated in the death of Saul.

V. Conclusions

A messianic ideal is set forth in the book of Samuel in the persons of Saul and David, but it is also made clear that both leaders fail in their performance. That fact might foster the hope of the coming of one who would fulfill this ideal, though that aspiration is not explicitly stated in the book. The key aspects of the ideal are in evidence as early as the Song of Hannah: the strong bond between Yhwh and “his anointed,” the person anointed derives power from God, and he owes obedience to God. In the subsequent narrative, these three key features are developed along the following lines: the anointed one is pictured as fighting the Lord’s battles, the standard of behavior expected of him is nothing less than perfection, and the person of the Lord’s anointed is inviolate. Several factors suggest that the messianic theology of the book of Samuel does indeed have implications for the future. One factor is the repeated sequence of events to be found in the book, whereby the experiences of Saul are replicated in those of David, suggesting that they are an established pattern and therefore provide a model both for the present and the future. Another factor is that the book depicts a theological ideal, but this would have little point if it were never to be realized, and so this also implies the prospect of a future messianic individual. Yet another factor is that the messianic theology of the book is propounded by prophetic figures (notably Samuel) or others speaking like prophets (Hannah and Abigail), and we would not expect a major disjunction between earlier and later prophecy in which messianic predictions are to be found (e.g., Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel).

Notes

1. This material is often overlooked in treatments of the messianic theme; see, for example, Walter C. Kaiser Jr., The Messiah in the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1995); John Day, ed., King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar, JSOTSup 270 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998); Stanley Porter, ed., The Messiah in the Old and New Testaments (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007).
2. Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The One Who Is to Come (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 13–16. Susan Gillingham gives the references to an anointed one in eight psalms the same kind of treatment (2:2; 18:50 [MT 51]; 20:6 [MT 7]; 28:8; 45:7 [MT 8]; 84:9 [MT 10]; 89:38, 51 [MT 39, 52]; 132:10, 17); see Susan E. Gillingham, “The Messiah in the Psalms: A Question of Reception History and the Psalter,” in King and Messiah, ed. Day, 209–37, here 212–20.
3. The use of this narratival technique in the book of Samuel is emphasized by Moshe Garsiel, The First Book of Samuel: A Literary Study of Comparative Structures, Analogies and Parallels (Ramat-Gan: Revivim, 1983).
4. T. R. Preston, “The Heroism of Saul: Patterns of Meaning in the Narrative of the Early Kingship,” JSOT 24 (1982): 27–46. Preston points out that the first instance of the pattern, however, is Eli and the fate of his priestly house (p. 29).
5. Stanley D. Walters, “Reading Samuel to Hear God,” CTJ 37 (2002): 62–81, suggests that the title “Samuel” is a hermeneutical guide, alerting the reader to the prophetic outlook of the narrative, so that, as Walters states, “Royal ideology must be subservient to prophetic ideology” (p. 68).
6. Antony F. Campbell, 1 Samuel, FOTL 7 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 25; cf. A. Graeme Auld, I and II Samuel: A Commentary, OTL (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2011), 2: “This is a book about David: all the other personalities are there so that we may see and know David better.”
7. See, for example, 2 Macc 2:13–15, Heb 4:7, and 4QMMT (= 4Q397) line 10 as reconstructed in Elisha Qimron and John Strugnell, Qumrân Cave 4.V: Miqsat Ma‘ase ha-Torah, DJD X (Oxford: Clarendon, 1984), 59.
8. Diana Vikander Edelman, King Saul in the Historiography of Judah, JSOTSup 121 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991), 11; cf. W. Lee Humphreys, “The Tragedy of King Saul: A Study of the Structure of 1 Samuel 9–31, ” JSOT 6 (1978): 18–27; David Jobling, “What, if Anything, Is 1 Samuel?,” SJOT 7 (1993): 17–31, here 25.
9. R. K. Harrison, Introduction to the Old Testament (London: Tyndale, 1969), 719, maintains, “In both Greek and Latin Bibles Samuel and Kings were regarded as one continuous history, divided for convenience into four sections.” We cannot follow him in his estimation of the divisions as arbitrary.
10. G. F. Moore, “The Vulgate Chapters and Numbered Verses in the Hebrew Bible,” in The Canon and Masorah of the Hebrew Bible: An Introductory Reader, ed. Sid Z. Leiman (New York: Ktav, 1974), 815–20, here 816.
11. For example, Ralph W. Klein, First Samuel, WBC 10 (Waco: Word, 1983), xxv.
12. Cf. K. Seybold, “משׁח משׁיח,” TDOT 9:43–54; DCH 5:515–18, 520–22; Shemaryahu Talmon, “The Biblical Idea of Statehood,” in The Bible World: Essays in Honor of Cyrus H. Gordon, ed. Gary Rendsburg et al. (New York: Ktav, 1980), 239–48, here 246; Shemaryahu Talmon, “The Concepts of māšîaḥ and Messianism in Early Judaism,” in The Messiah: Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity, ed. James H. Charlesworth, First Princeton Symposium on Judaism and Christian Origins (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992), 79–115, esp. 88; J. J. M. Roberts, “The Old Testament’s Contribution to Messianic Expectations,” in Messiah: Developments, 39–51, here 39.
13. Nor, indeed, is it found in the OT as a whole. The two obscure references to “an anointed one” (anarthrous משׁיח) in Dan 9:25 and 26 are hardly exceptions, for there is scholarly disagreement over the referent of these two usages.
14. Ernst Kutsch, Salbung als Rechtsakt im Alten Testament und im alten Orient, BZAW 87 (Berlin: A. Topelmann, 1963), 52–63, argues that only anointing by the people reflected historical reality (derived from Hittite practice) and that it created a bond between the king and the people. This view is disputed by Roland de Vaux, “Le Roi d’Israël, Vassal de Yahvé,” in Bible et Orient (Paris: Cerf, 1967), 287–301. Vaux cites Egyptian analogies to argue for the anointed king as God’s representative, and he makes the point that anointing would have been at the hands of a single officiant (pp. 300–301).
15. For the two terms, see J. Gordon McConville, God and Earthly Power: An Old Testament Political Theology, Genesis–Kings, LHBOTS 454 (London: T&T Clark International, 2006), 137–38.
16. J. P. Fokkelman, Vow and Desire (1 Sam. 1–12), vol. 4 of Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel: A Full Interpretation Based on Stylistic and Structural Analyses, SSN 31 (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1993), 105–7.
17. Susan M. Pigott, “Wives, Witches and Wise Women: Prophetic Heralds of Kingship in 1 and 2 Samuel,” Review and Expositor 99 (2002): 145–73.
18. It refers to the high priest in Exod 29:7; Num 35:25; other priests in Exod 28:41; 30:30; 40:15; Num 3:3; and prophets in 1 Kgs 19:16; Isa 61:1; Ps 105:15.
19. The parallel is emphasised by Fitzmyer, One Who Is to Come, 13.
20. See the arguments for its originality provided by John T. Willis, “The Song of Hannah and Psalm 113, ” CBQ 35 (1973): 139–54; David Toshio Tsumura, The First Book of Samuel, NICOT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 149–50; A. David Ritterspach, “Rhetorical Criticism and the Song of Hannah,” in Rhetorical Criticism: Essays in Honor of James Muilenburg, ed. Jared J. Jackson and Martin Kessler (Pittsburgh: Pickwick, 1974), 68–74.
21. The connection is noted by Tsumura, First Book of Samuel, 150.
22. Brevard S. Childs, Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture (London: SCM, 1979), 278; James W. Watts, Psalm and Story: Insert Hymns in Hebrew Narrative, JSOTSup 139 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992), 115.
23. These observations are made by Ellen van Wolde, “A Leader Led by a Lady: David and Abigail in 1 Samuel 25, ” ZAW 114 (2002): 355–75, here 355 and 367.
24. The wording echoes 1 Sam 2:35 and anticipates the Dynastic Covenant of 2 Sam 7.
25. Robert Polzin, 1 Samuel, vol. 2 of Samuel and the Deuteronomist: A Literary Study of the Deuteronomistic History (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1993), 205–8.
26. For this and what follows I acknowledge my dependence on Rolf P. Knierim, “The Messianic Concept in the First Book of Samuel,” in Jesus and the Historian: Written in Honor of Ernest Cadman Colwell, ed. F. Thomas Trotter (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1968), 20–51. Knierim focuses on what he sees as the pre-Deuteronomistic stratum in the stories of Saul and David in chs. 9–31, in which “significant parallel traditions have been combined in thematic unities” (p. 25).
27. For typological links between David’s rise and Jesus as the Messiah, see Knierim, “Messianic Concept,” 42–44; and James M. Hamilton Jr., “The Typology of David’s Rise to Power: Messianic Patterns in the Book of Samuel,” Southern Baptist Journal of Theology 16 (2012): 4–25.
28. For the view that the anointings of Saul and David are anachronistic, derived from the anointing of Solomon when this act was an essential element in the coronation ritual, see Tryggve N. D. Mettinger, King and Messiah: The Civil and Sacral Legitimation of the Israelite Kings, ConBOT 8 (Lund: Gleerup, 1976), 203–8.
29. Knierim, “Messianic Concept,” 29.
30. In the case of Elisha, he sends one of the sons of the prophets to carry out the anointing of Jehu that Elijah failed to fulfill.
31. For Knierim, this represents a displacing of older historical traditions that held it was the people who anointed Saul and David (1 Sam 11:15 LXX [“and Samuel anointed (ἔχρισε) Saul there to be king”]; 2 Sam 2:4; 5:3) (“Messianic Concept,” 29).
32. Knierim, “Messianic Concept,” 30.
33. Sam Meier, “The King as Warrior in Samuel-Kings,” HAR 13 (1991): 63–76, here 65.
34. The chapter division at 11:1 is unfortunate. At 10:27b, 4QSama adds a sizable paragraph, the originality of which is defended by Emanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992), 342–44. The addition is incorporated into the text of the NRSV. Yet this approach fails to see that the section in fact begins at 10:26. The 4QSama addition is no evidence of an older, more reliable text, but is better viewed as a different edition of the story. In my judgment, this edition is inferior in literary terms, for no explanation for Nahash’s attack on Jabesh-Gilead is needed; see Alexander Rofé, “4QMidrash Samuel? Observations Concerning the Character of 4QSama,” Textus 19 (1998): 63–74, here 65–67; Terry L. Eves, “One Ammonite Invasion or Two? I Sam 10:27–11:2 in the Light of 4QSama,” WTJ 44 (1982): 308–26; Stephen Pisano, Additions or Omissions in the Books of Samuel: The Significant Pluses and Minuses in the Massoretic, LXX and Qumran Texts, OBO 57 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1984), 91–98, here 97; Edward D. Herbert, “4QSama and Its Relationship to the LXX: An Exploration in Stemmatological Analysis,” in Ninth Congress of the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies: Cambridge, 1995, ed. Bernard A. Taylor, SBLSCS 45 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), 37–55, here 53.
35. David Jobling, “Saul’s Fall and Jonathan’s Rise: Tradition and Redaction in 1 Sam 14:1–46, ” JBL 95 (1976): 367–76.
36. Knierim, “Messianic Concept,” 32–33.
37. R. A. Carlson, David the Chosen King: A Traditio-Historical Approach to the Second Book of Samuel, trans. Eric J. Sharpe and Stanley Rudman (Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1964), 106.
38. Cf. Rachelle Gilmour, Representing the Past: A Literary Analysis of Narrative Historiography in the Book of Samuel, VTSup 143 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 74.
39. The connection is noted by Carlson, David the Chosen King, 115. In the words of Carlson, v. 11a “foretells the victory chronicle of 8:1–14” (p. 116).
40. Robert M. Good, “2 Samuel 8, ” TynBul 52 (2001): 129–38, here 132–34.
41. See, for example, Robert P. Gordon, 1 and 2 Samuel: A Commentary (Exeter: Paternoster, 1986), 236, 242; John Mauchline, 1 and 2 Samuel, NCB (London: Oliphants, 1971), 228.
42. Knierim, “Messianic Concept,” 38.
43. Claire Mathews McGinnis, “Swimming with the Divine Tide: An Ignatian Reading of 1 Samuel,” in Theological Exegesis: Essays in Honor of Brevard S. Childs, ed. Christopher R. Seitz and Kathryn Greene-McCreight (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 240–70, here 253.
44. McGinnis, “Swimming with the Divine Tide,” 248.
45. Cf. P. Kyle McCarter Jr., 1 Samuel, AB 8 (Garden City: Doubleday, 1980), 27–28; Keith W. Whitelam, “The Defence of David,” JSOT 29 (1984): 61–87.
46. Knierim, “Messianic Concept,” 38.
47. Gillian Keys, The Wages of Sin: A Reappraisal of the “Succession Narrative,” JSOTSup 221 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), 150, argues that 2 Sam 1–9 are concerned with the consolidation of David’s power, and so she restricts the next unit to chs. 10–20, the focus being the humanity of David rather than David from “a more public angle.”
48. David M. Gunn, The Story of King David: Genre and Interpretation, JSOTSup 6 (Sheffield: University of Sheffield, 1978), 87–94, views that it is the story of David as king and of David the man, and the interconnection between the political and private themes. David’s roles as father and dynastic founder are inextricably linked, and David’s story is one of struggle to reconcile these interests.
49. For the connections between the chapters, see Frank H. Polak, “David’s Kingship: A Precarious Equilibrium,” in Politics and Theopolitics in the Bible and Postbiblical Literature, ed. Henning Graf Reventlow, Yair Hoffman, and Benjamin Uffenheimer, JSOTSup 171 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1994), 119–47, here 129–30.
50. Seybold, “משׁיח, משׁח,” x50.
51. As noted by Knierim, “Messianic Concept,” 27–28.
52. As noted by Gordon, 1 and 2 Samuel, 179; see also Robert P. Gordon, “David’s Rise and Saul’s Demise: Narrative Analogy in 1 Samuel 24–26, ” TynBul 31 (1980): 37–64, here 55–56.
53. J. P. Fokkelman, The Crossing Fates (1 Sam. 13–31 and 2 Sam. 1), vol. 2 of Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel: A Full Interpretation Based on Stylistic and Structural Analyses, SSN 23 (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1986), 458–59.
54. Cf. André LaCocque, Ruth, trans. K. C. Hanson, CC (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2004), 84. Cf. the euphemistic use of “leg” (רגל) for the same body part a few verses earlier (24:3); see Andrea L. Weiss, Figurative Language in Biblical Prose Narrative: Metaphor in the Book of Samuel, VTSup 107 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 194–97, though she takes another view of “wing” as a metaphor (depicting Saul as a bird fluttering from place to place).
55. As noted by Fokkelman, Crossing Fates, 536.
56. April D. Westbrook, “And He Will Take Your Daughters”: Woman Story and the Ethical Evaluation of Monarchy in the David Narrative, LHBOTS 610 (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2015), 66–67, 73.
57. See the comments on the Philistines and the monarchy in Robert P. Gordon, “Who Made the Kingmaker? Reflections on Samuel and the Institution of the Monarchy,” in Faith, Tradition and History: Old Testament Historiography in Its Near Eastern Context, ed. A. R. Millard et al. (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1994), 255–69, here 257.
58. See the extended discussion provided by David Jobling, 1 Samuel, Berit Olam (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1998), 212–43.
59. Cf. Walter Brueggemann, “Narrative Intentionality in 1 Samuel 29, ” JSOT 43 (1989): 21–35, here 24.