eschaton or escape
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EscatologiaTRANSCRIPT
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Eschaton or Escape? Paul's Two Ages Vs. Plato's Two World Michael S. Horton ©1999, 2000 Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals
Imagine the world's inhabitants living in an underground cave their whole lives, never
having seen the out-side, necks and legs chained, only able to look at one wall in front of
them. Behind and above them is a catwalk on which figures are moving. Because of a fire
at the opening of the cave, the imprisoned people can see projections of these figures on the
wall in front of them. "Look, a dog!", one exclaims. Another shouts, "There is a man!" But,
of course, they are but shadows dancing across the wall as the real dog and the real man
traverse the catwalk. If only they could escape their chains and step out into the bright
sunlight of the real world. The moral to the story: "The world of our sight is like the
habitation in prison, the firelight there to the sunlight here, the ascent and the view of the
upper world is the rising of the soul into the world of mind."1
As Western thought advanced, Plato's dualism (i.e., his "two worlds") created a pattern for
a variety of philosophical systems. Even Augustine, who was converted from Gnostic
Manichaeanism (a very dualistic form of Platonic thought), never managed to shake off
Plato's influence. Throughout the Middle Ages, the progress of the soul from this
supposedly false world of appearances which we experience with our senses to the real
world which we know with our rational soul, became the goal of contemplation. Just as the
vision of the Beautiful itself (the eternal Idea or Form) rather than beautiful things (the
temporary particulars which pass away) dominated Platonism, so for Aquinas the goal of
Christian experience was the Beatific Vision. Seeing God with the inner eye was superior
to anything that could be seen with the outer eye. This inner/outer, above/below,
heaven/earth, eternal/temporal, spirit or soul/body, intellect/senses dichotomy runs
throughout Western thought. In fact, it's the reason why modern theology could get along
fine with a "Christ event" which had profound implications for one's individual encounter
with God while denying the historical reality of the resurrection. In Rudolf Bultmann's
memorable words, "But the 'Christ after the flesh' is no concern of ours."2 Already, during
the Enlightenment, Lessing had issued his famous announce-ment that he could not get
across the "ugly, broad ditch" which separated the "accidental truths of history" from the
truths of reason in the matter of Christianity. Resurrections occur in space and time, leaving
historical traces. But how could truths in the realm of appearance have the kind of certainty
possessed by truths of reason?
Modern theology--including so-called "dialectical theology" (Bultmann, Barth, Brunner)--
took Christianity out of the realm of history by making it a purely existential affair in the
moment of crisis and decision. In this way, it is certainly close to Plato's "two worlds," but
far from Paul's "two ages."
Julius Schneiwind, a leading theologian of this century, engaged in a discussion with
Bultmann on these very points, sometimes coming close to accusing the Marburg
theologian of outright gnosticism in his division between historical events and the historic
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(i.e., individual-existential) encounter. Schneiwind responded: "The eschatology of the
early Church is not just a vague belief in the transcendent or in immortality," but a definite
day of judgment toward which history is moving. "The New Testament knows nothing of
an ascent of the soul," either individual or corporate. "Each individual is involved with the
rest of mankind in the stream of human history, in the time-process, and in this present age
Š Such an eschatology begins with resurrection rather than with transcendence, with the
day of judgement rather than with immortality."3
Whatever Christian philosophy has made of "transcendence" and "immanence," "above"
and "below," and the like, it is impossible to attribute the cosmological literalism to
Scripture, as Bultmann wishes to do. Schneiwind adds:
Hence the New Testament is right and Bultmann wrong: eschatology is ultimate history.
There is a synteleia, a completion of this aeonŠThe eschatological wrath of God is at work
already here and now. The kingdom of God has already dawned in Christ Š Here we have a
profound critique of our popular ideas about time, as Luther saw when he said that in the
sight of God the whole history of man from Adam down to the present moment happened
"as it were but yesterday."4
This tendency to divide the world into "good" and "bad" spheres is tempting. For one thing,
it keeps us from having to face up to the real dichotomy, the real antithesis, which is
"righteousness" versus "unrighteousness." In other words, we would have to say that the
real source of alienation in the world and in our own lives is due to our rebellion and not to
some supposed hostility between the alleged eternal/ invisible/spiritual/unchanging realm
of perfection and the temporal/visible/material/changing realm of appearances. The Gnostic
myth of an innocent spirit "thrown" mercilessly into history (not to mention, into a physical
body) may help us think good thoughts about ourselves, but at the end of the day it is still
that: a myth, and it doesn't really explain anything.
Furthermore, it leaves this world to the devils. If this is just the realm of shadowy
appearances, like those images on the cave's wall which the prisoners mistook for the real
thing, why not scurry off into some monastery and contemplate the Eternal? In the wake of
the Enlightenment, pietism often took this route, surrendering the public realm of history,
culture, politics, and life in general to others while the believer sat in a corner or with a
small group of true believers and enjoyed private experiences. This was the religious world
in which most liberal theologians were reared and it was the religious world which most
critics of Christianity came to regard as feeble. Among the latter, Ludwig Feuerbach (1804-
72) figures prominently. Feuerbach said that Christianity is a projection of the self, and
"heaven" is a projection of the self's longing for immortality.5 Freud would make these
ideas central to his psychoanalysis.6
But no one agreed with this thesis more than Friedrich Nietzsche. Listing six stages in "the
history of an error," he describes "How the 'Real World' Finally Became a Fable." First, the
real world was "attainable for the wise man, the pious man, the virtuous man." But then it
was said that the real world was "unattainable for now, but promised to the wise man, the
pious man, the virtuous man ('to the sinner who repents')." In its third stage, the fable said
that the real world is "unattainable, unprovable, unpromisable, but the mere thought of it
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[is] a consolation, an obligation, an imperative." Here is the Kantian stage, in which
modern liberal theology developed. Eventually, the "real world" becomes totally irrelevant.
Not even an obligation, the ethical residue finally evaporates and nothing is left. "The real
world--we have done away with it: what world was left? The apparent one, perhaps? Š But
no! With the real world we have also done away with the apparent one!"7 Elsewhere, he
wrote, "I hate that overleaping of this world which occurs when one condemns this world
wholesale. Art and religion grow out of this. Oh, I understand this flight up and away into
the repose of the One."8
Much of modern secularism is due to the fact that the "other world" of Plato's
transcendence was swallowing up "this world" of historical existence. At first, Descartes
sought to carve out a little space for the self free from God. This space was the res cogitans,
the disembodied mind, conscious of itself through thought. But as the gap grew wider,
resentment grew as well: modern man envied the mastery of that God who existed in and
for himself. Eventually, then, Nietzsche announced the arrival of the Anti-Christ and the
Over-Man. God is dead and now the Superman must take his rightful place of mastery over
history. Feuerbach, Marx, and Nietzsche had all called Christianity "Platonism for the
masses," and now at last they had exposed the "true world" as false. Without this "true
world" as the measure of "this world's" truth or falsehood, "this world" died as well. In
other words, this world can no longer be seen as a representation or projection of a pure
heavenly realm if the latter does not really exist after all. John Lennon's song Imagine
expresses well the eschatology of a post-Nietzschean age.
In the brief space we have here, I would like to put Plato and Paul in the ring together, to
see the ways in which the Apostle to the Gentiles turns Greek philosophy on its head by
using its own vocabulary in a remarkably subversive way. The goal will be to see how
Paul's eschatology can reshape our thinking in an age of false dualisms and how it can offer
a fresh alternative to both Platonism (modernity) and the postmodern announcement that
there is no God, no self, and no such thing as history or meaning.
Paul's Two-Age Model The first thing that is striking about Paul's eschatology is that he does not invent new
terminology for it. He picks up the existing vocabulary in Greek culture and then uses it in
highly subversive ways. He will use spirit/flesh, above/below, heavenly/earthly
terminology, but with an entirely different meaning than its typical usage. In Greek thought,
as we have seen briefly, such "dualisms" (making two things opposites) are generally
ontological. That is, they are concerned with the essence or substance. An adopted father or
mother may be a parent in as full a sense as a birth parent, but only the latter is a parent of
the child ontologically and not just legally and experientially. The Greeks were very
interested in the "being" or essence of everything. So, especially in Plato's thought, eternity
is not just distinguished from time, but is opposed to it. The soul must transcend the body
and the realm of the senses to attain union with the eternal One. Things change in the
temporal realm of history and appearances, but things are permanent in the eternal realm of
the spirit above. This super-spirituality, this mysticism, is precisely what came to identify
modern Christianity (as it had much of medieval religion).
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But Paul is the enemy of such "Platonism for the masses." Sure, he uses spirit-flesh
terminology. But instead of it being an ontological opposition between "that which is
spiritual" and "that which is physical," it is the Holy Spirit set in opposition to humanity in
its fallen condition. Against the Greek ontological dualism, the New Testament sets its own
eschatological dualism. In other words, the antithesis is not between different aspects of
God's creation, but between the totality of God's creation as it is under the dominion of sin
and the totality of God's creation as it is under the dominion of righteousness. So, Paul's list
of dualisms includes the following: Adam vs. Christ, Old Aeon ("this present evil age") vs.
New Aeon ("the age to come"), death vs. resurrection, law/bondage vs. gospel/liberty,
futility/decay vs. hope/ renewal, lawlessness ("fruit of the flesh") vs. righteousness ("fruit
of the Spirit"), judgment/ wrath vs. justification/ adoption, vision/ demand for signs vs.
voice (preaching)/faith in promise, covenant of works (Adam, Moses) vs. covenant of grace
(Abraham, Jesus). But these are not unrelated, fragmented alternatives to the ontological
dualisms. They are all united by a common eschatological theme and are all divided under
the heading of "in Adam" versus "in Christ." Because of his death and resurrection, Jesus
("the firstfruits") has ushered in "the age to come," and as this promised consummation
invades the present reality of death and despair, it continues the resurrection-work by
beginning from the inside (i.e., the regeneration of the "inner man") out (i.e., the final
resurrection of the body).
First, we need to be reminded that this "Pauline eschatology" does not originate with Paul.
It is foreshadowed in the Pentateuch and historical books, anticipated by the prophets, and
announced by Jesus. Those who forsake all for the kingdom "receive a hundredfold now in
this age Š .and in the age to come eternal life" (Mark 10:30). Jesus speaks of judgment "at
the end of the age" (Matt. 13:40) and refers to those who will not be forgiven "either in this
age or in the age to come" (Matt. 12:32). He distinguishes between "those who belong to
this age" and those who have "a place in that age and in the resurrection from the deadŠ."
(Luke 20:34-5). In fact, the latter are "children of the resurrection" who can never again die
(v. 37). He refers to "the children of this age" and "the children of light" (Luke 16:8), and
teaches that "the harvest is the end of the age" (Matt. 13:39-40). The disciples themselves
asked Jesus to reveal "the sign of your coming and of the end of the age," which Jesus
explained in terms of the arrival of false messiahs (Matt. 24:3-5). The writer to the Hebrews
reminds readers that through the ministry of Word and Sacrament, they have "been
enlightened, and have tasted the heavenly gift, and have shared in the Holy Spirit, and have
tasted the goodness of the Word of God and the powers of the age to come" (Heb. 6:4-5).
But this two-age model actually becomes the structure of Paul's thought. The two ages are
repeatedly invoked, even when they are not always set in intrinsic opposition (1 Cor. 1:20-
2:8; Eph. 1:21; 2:2-7; 2 Tim. 4:10; Tit. 2:12-13). Satan is "the god of this world," not in any
Gnostic sense (i.e., author or ruler of physical creation), but inasmuch as he is the serpent in
God's garden who corrupts Adam and his progeny. "World" here is not kosmos, the usual
term for "world," but "aion," usually translated "age." Do you see how he turns these old
Greek dualisms on their head? By using their older categories and then replacing them with
eschatological rather than ontological content, he radically subverts pagan dualism.
Election is something which "God decreed before the ages" (1 Cor. 2:8), but is executed "in
this present age," and will be consummated "in the age to come" (Eph. 1:21).
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It becomes clear that this two-age model is concerned not with two worlds or realms, but
with two ages, one inferior to the other not for any ontological reasons but for ethical-
eschatological ones. One age is characterized by rebellion against God's reign, the other by
God's universal shalom. That which happens in the present is not simply for that reason
(i.e., being "present") evil, for God's providence or common grace is actively upholding all
things and restraining evil. And the powers of this age do not have the last say: God, by his
Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead and was then poured out on the rest of Jesus' body, is
raising those spiritually dead to life and is seating them with Christ in heavenly places. It is
clear that Paul is describing believers here and now, prior to their death. Their being seated
with Christ in heavenly places, then, is not ontological (i.e., rescuing them from the created
world--Plato's realm of appearances), but eschatological (i.e., rescuing them from the
powers of darkness and arraying them in Christ's righteousness).
But this is not merely an individual reality. In other words, the eschatological category
transcends the preoccupation with an individual experience of conversion. Salvation has
appeared in Christ: that is why "all things are made new." This usually gets translated into
purely individual, mystical categories, as if Paul had in mind nothing more than making me
new inwardly. But, as theologian Herman Ridderbos notes, the Spirit-flesh contrast is not to
be seen "first and foremost as an individual experience, not even in the first place as an
individual reversal, but as a new way of existence which became present time with the
coming of Christ. Thus, Paul can say in Romans 8:9, 'But ye are not in the flesh but in the
Spirit.' This being in the Spirit is not a mystical, but an eschatological, redemptive-
historical category."9 He is doing this now, not just at the end of the age. In the resurrection
of Christ, the age to come has dawned in "these last days." It is not "this world" of matter,
transience, contingency, etc., that is set against "the other world" of pure eternal spirit and
apathetic bliss, but "this world-age" of sin, injustice, and judgment in opposition to "the age
to come" in which righteousness dwells forever.
We see this pattern clearly, for instance, in Romans 8. In verses 1-25 alone, we find much
of that list I offered above (viz., the dualisms of Pauline eschatology). "In Christ" there is
"no condemnation," since the era of the Spirit of Christ ("life in Christ") "has set you free
from the law of sin and death." The Law, because of the weakness of our sinful hearts,
could not save, but God has done this by sending his Son (vv. 5-8). Because of this, "the
sufferings of this present age"--which are hardly dismissed by some false optimism--"are
not worthy of being compared with the glory about to be revealed to us" (v. 18). And what
is that glory? Escape from this world to the realm of eternal spirit? Nothing could be further
from Paul's mind, since he identifies that "glory about to be revealed to us" as the
resurrection of our bodies. But that is not all! Included in our physical restoration will be
the resurrection of the entire creation. While Platonism and its sundry offspring
(gnosticism, modern existentialism, etc.) have sought to locate the sense of human
alienation from the natural world in the ontological inferiority of the body to the soul (and
therefore sought to escape from history), Paul locates the alienation in human rebellion. In
fact, it is not even nature's fault, he insists in very clear terms (vv. 19-20). Instead of nature
enslaving the human self, it's the other way around!
But God's resurrection-consummation will be so thorough that the physical world will share
in the resurrection of the Church on the last day. Because of this we hope, despite our
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present sufferings (vv. 24-25). It is not a resignation to the present condition of the world or
our own sinfulness, or our suffering; nor is it a false triumphalism about the future. Rather,
it is a certain hope based on the fact of Christ's resurrection. His resurrection did not merely
vindicate his saving work for this fallen world; it began that saving work. This is why Paul
uses the organic metaphor of a harvest, with Jesus as the "firstfruits." His resurrection is not
separate from that of the whole people of God, but is the beginning of that cosmic renewal.
Concerning 2 Corinthians 4:16, where Paul speaks of the outer man decaying while the
inner man is being renewed daily (cf. Rom. 7:22; Eph. 3:16), Westminster Seminary
theologian Richard Gaffin writes, "In effect, then, Paul is saying: the resurrection of the
inner man is past; the resurrection of the outer man is still future (cf. v. 14). This should not
be understood, however, in the sense of an anthropological dualism. Rather, the dual aspect
of the whole man is in view."10 The dualism, once more, is eschatological rather than
ontological, since the whole person lives "in Christ," "in the Spirit," dominated by the age
to come, and yet is still present in "this evil age" which once was the believer's habitat.
It is in a similar context that Paul says, "Old things are passed away; behold, they are
become new" (2 Cor. 5:17). It is because the Messiah has come, not because an individual
has had an experience, that everything is new: the future (i.e., "the age to come") has
dawned in Christ. This is what is meant by his "appearing," his "revelation." He is the
turning-point in human and cosmic history. Jesus Christ is "the new thing," the new reality
which has burst on the scene. As Ridderbos says, the manifestation of Jesus "in these last
days" is "not, in the first place, made known as a noetic [intellectual] piece of information,
but has appeared as an historical event."11
So What Are We Waiting For? So far, we have seen that Paul's use of traditional terms in Greek dualism (Spirit/flesh,
heavenly/earthly, invisible/visible, above/below) is very nontraditional: he eschatologizes
and "Christologizes" them until they are no longer ontological oppositions. Contrary to
what many of us were raised to believe, the Spirit/flesh antithesis, for instance, is not the
war between one's spirit/soul (connected to the eternal realm, the "true world" of Plato) and
the physical body (bound to the realm of fading shadows, the "apparent world"). Paul is not
calling us to transcend our earthly existence and become obsessed with contemplating
heaven in general, the spiritual in general, the eternal in general, or transcendence in
general. He is not even calling us to contemplate God in general. Rather, he is urging us to
raise our attention above the temporary (not "the temporal" as opposed to "the eternal")
state of things in this age (viz., in rebellion and decay) to the permanent condition of things
in the age to come (viz., restoration in Christ). It is God's mercy, which he has minted in the
form of promises--those gold coins bearing the visage of Jesus Christ--which contrasts
setting our minds on "things above" as opposed to setting our sights low, gazing at our own
miserable performance and our own "felt needs."
In the light of this, that contrast appears between what theologians call the "already" and
the "not-yet." As we have seen, this tension pulsates throughout Paul's thought, as we see
especially in Romans 8. In Romans 6 and 7, Paul had already made the point that we have
been baptized into the new world of which Jesus is the sun. This has brought real renewal,
so that we cannot live in sin. We are "in the Spirit" and are no longer "in the flesh," in the
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light rather than darkness, in Christ rather than Adam. Our definitive sanctification (i.e., our
being declared holy and set apart by God once and for all) is the basis for our progressive
sanctification. But then the reality of indwelling sin hits us in the middle of our celebration
over the reality of the new birth. Chapter seven is dedicated to unveiling this sad fact in
familiar detail. When we get to chapter eight, the Apostle has broadened the scope to
include the entire creation and the cosmic dimensions of regeneration-resurrection. Living
in "these last days" should determine our stance: "Put on Christ," Paul says. "And do this,
knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep; for now our salvation is
nearer than when we first believed. The night is far spent, the day is at hand. Therefore let
us cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light" (Rom. 13:11-14).
Everything that we see right now tells us that decay is normal, sin is "only human," evil is
"the way things are," and death is natural. But none of this is true. Decay, evil, and death
are all ultimately due to the bondage into which the first man and his descendants have
plunged the human race because of willful disobedience. Just as "the new creation" is not to
be understood first and foremost in an individualistic sense, but as the eschatological
turning point for the whole created order which began with the resurrection, so our own
rebirth of the inner man (i.e., regeneration) is linked to the rebirth of not only our own outer
man (i.e., bodily resurrection), but to the new world. Thus, things that have been separated
in our thinking can no longer be divorced, much less set in opposition: the cross and
resurrection, atonement and regeneration, justification and sanctification, soul and body,
heaven and earth, individual and corporate, even human and nonhuman. Not even can a
"Time versus Eternity" dualism remain as Platonic residue within Christianity. As biblical
theologian Geerhardus Vos observes, while God transcends time, "Paul nowhere affirms
that to the life of man after the close of this aeon, no more duration, no more divisibility in
time-units shall exist." That would constitute the deification of the inhabitants of the future
aeon.12
For Paul, there is no escape from the historical drama--into the past, present, future,
eternity, or any other "beyond," including heaven. The vertical and horizontal planes meet
in promise and then ontologically in the very person of Jesus Christ. He incarnates "the age
to come" and brings it with him, beginning with his resurrection as "the firstfruits" until he
has finally completed the work of salvation when he comes again. We are not waiting for
"the great escape," but for "the great return"--the coming again of the God-Man who will
finish what he started. Just as this future glorification of believers has implications for our
individual growth in Christian maturity (Paul's indicatives driving the imperatives), so this
future cosmic restoration, when not only believers but "the whole earth will be full of his
glory," should drive our concern for and involvement in the world during "this present evil
age." Just as our own small gains in holiness in this life do not relieve us of the
responsibility of constantly striving for that which is up ahead, our contributions to the
justice, goodness, and beauty of creation may not, for their meagerness, be considered
unimportant to the Alpha-Creator and Omega-Consummator who has brought us out of
darkness into his marvelous light.
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Dr. Michael Horton is the Chairman of the Council of the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals, and is
associate professor of historical theology at Westminster Theological Seminary in California. Dr. Horton is a
graduate of Biola University (B.A.), Westminster Theological Seminary in California (M.A.R.) and Wycliffe
Hall, Oxford (Ph.D.). Some of the books he has written or edited include Putting Amazing Back Into Grace,
Beyond Culture Wars, In the Face of God, and most recently, A Confessing Theology for Postmdern Times.